Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School

“No, Emma. We cannot just ask.” Thacea responded with a look of complete and utter befuddlement. Her features were, for lack of a better term, one that bordered on sheer incredulousness, as if she wasn’t expecting to hear that as my serious suggestion for this very-serious mission. “Or more accurately, I believe it will depend on exactly who it is you wish to ask, Emma.” The princess quickly clarified, placing both of her hands tight against her temples, rubbing them in circular, clockwise motions.

“I mean, I was just hoping to ask the apprentice-” I offered, before the realization suddenly hit me, and I realized with every fiber of my being exactly why Thacea had reacted so viscerally to that proposal.

In fact I could just about see the glint of relief in Thacea’s eyes the moment I realized the massive hole in my otherwise straightforward plan; as if she saw right through me by virtue of my body language and tone of voice alone.

“No, sorry, that’s actually a really really bad idea now that I say it out loud.” I admitted with a heavy sigh. “It’d be giving away the fact that we somehow learned of the existence of the green notebook, not to mention the fact that we somehow, through some inexplicable means, know that it’s in the apprentice’s possession.”

“Which would undoubtedly give away one of your greatest advantages—” Ilunor paused, before making an effort of pointing at my armor’s obscured drone-bay slots. “—your manaless means of subterfuge and espionage.” The Vunerian enunciated every syllable, narrowing his eyes as he did so, as if to catch a stray sight of one of my already-docked drones. “Which at best, could lead to countermeasures being developed for it, thus nullifying one of your greatest assets. Or at worst… leading to the discovery of the drone you left behind in the Dean’s offices.”

“Moreover…” Thacea continued, taking over from Ilunor’s surprisingly valid points. “... should the apprentice be unable to deduce the existence of your manaless means of espionage, she will naturally resort to the most reasonable explanation, the most obvious cause of this breach of information security; the only other person who knows of the green book-”

“-Sorecar.” I completed Thacea’s words for her, prompting her to nod firmly in response.

“Correct. And I probably need not explain the ramifications of either of these possibilities.” The princess concluded, eliciting a sigh from myself and a pat on the shoulder from Thalmin.

“Being direct and forthright is a noble endeavor, Emma. However, given the circumstances through which we discovered this vital piece of information, such a path simply is not viable for the procurement of our artifact.” The lupinor spoke reassuringly, making a point to ‘shake’ my otherwise unshakable shoulder, which the EVI seemed to respond appropriately by at least mimicking some range of motion so as to lessen my otherwise stout and unmovable demeanor.

“I appreciate the input, guys.” I bobbed my head with understanding, before moving forward with another plan, undaunted by the conceptual shortsightedness of the last. “So with the apprentice out of the picture, I guess that leaves only one other option.” I paused for dramatic effect, a small part of me realizing that much to my horror, that the Vunerian’s propensity for theatrics was more than likely rubbing off on me now. “We’ll just have to ask Sorecar for it.”

This proposal sent Thacea into another pensive look of introspection. “There are inherent risks to being so direct, Emma. However, should you wish to approach this matter directly, I believe the man would be our best option moving forward.” The princess acknowledged with a confident nod.

“Do you have any objections to it?” I shot back eagerly, leaning in more than I would’ve out-of-armor, the exaggerated movements something that were becoming second nature to me, despite a nagging part of me feeling a sense of longing to be able to properly emote again.

“Not necessarily objections per se, merely… a cautious concern over Professor Pliska’s spellbound ties to the Academy.” Thacea responded curtly. “I would suggest a roundabout means of procuring the notebook from the man, such that if pressed for answers, he could potentially provide half-truths or indirect answers which may sufficiently satisfy superficial questioning.”

“So… the Princess Dilani treatment then.” I responded cheekily, trying to inject some levity into the situation with a sly little jab at the princess’... overly wordy propensity.

Her reactions however, were once again, something bordering the flustered and the unamused. Though it was perhaps important to note that it did come in that order.

“I erm, meant no offense by that of course! I just meant to say that well, you know, you’re able to… you have an incredible knack for just… well…” I stuttered awkwardly, moving an arm back to once again find itself bonking the backside of my helmet before I could stop myself. “... I just wanted to compliment you on your ability to find really effective social workarounds similar to how you were able to hold that shadowy-faced apprentice for so long during the whole medical wing saga where you kept him busy for hours and well-”

“I understand, and appreciate the roundabout attempt at levity through leveraging positive reinforcement, Emma.” Thacea cut me off before I could go any further, giving me an off-ramp on an otherwise endless highway to ramble town. “I… appreciate the gesture all the same.” She quickly added with a flustered smile.

“Yeah, I couldn’t have put it better, Thacea.” I offered with an awkward laugh, before turning back towards the two unamused onlookers. “With that being said, do you guys have any other ideas or…” I trailed off, awkwardly divesting the floor to the pair.

“Professor Pliska is the most obvious route to take given the circumstances.” Ilunor surmised with a shrug. “Though I doubt the earthrealmer has what it takes to play the game, it is still firmly her responsibility to secure that book. I… would rather not participate in parlaying with the man.”

“I still believe that simply taking the book from the apprentice is the most sure-fire way of going about this, Emma.” Thalmin countered. “At this point, we’re relying on the Apprentice’s trust in the armorer’s ability to create copies of the green book. There could be a thousand different things that could happen between now, and our attempt to request that book from the armorer. It is with that in mind that I suggest a mission to procure the book through more direct means.”

“You have a point there Thalmin.” I acknowledged. “But I still think we should at least try the least invasive option, before stepping up and escalating our game.”

“It’s your personal quest, Emma.” Thalmin responded with a disappointed sigh, as if expecting my opinions to have changed from his urging. “I will not infringe on the way in which you conduct your battles. Though I hope you understand that should things evolve beyond a simple skirmish and into an all-out war, I will not hesitate to act in the best way I see fit.”

“I appreciate the sentiments, Thalmin.” I nodded respectfully and with a smile. “So with all that being said, considering it’s like… nearly twenty-three hundred hours now. Perhaps we should start this mission first thing after class tomorrow-”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

A series of four, distinct, anxiety-inducing knocks threw what should have been a neat conclusion to this straightforward mission preparation right out of the window.

I was, once again, thrown for a complete loop; my mind struggled to decide whether or not I wanted to panic, dread, or simply let loose a series of tired and exhausted cry-laughs at the appearance of yet another unexpected wrench being thrown into the plans.

However, I soon settled on one emotion that perhaps arose out of how frequent these interruptions were becoming — annoyance.

Though it was clear that this late-night house call definitely didn’t elicit that same response from everyone else, as a look of worry descended on all three faces.

“Another compulsory assembly announcement?” I offered through a languished smile.

“Or perhaps the immediate consequences of your overeager eavesdropping escapades.” Ilunor responded darkly and almost immediately, as the already-pale blue of his scales were drained of their color.

A pit quickly formed in my stomach as a result.

Whilst the two others remained still, refusing to respond.

At least, not with words.

As Thacea and Thalmin suddenly stood up at practically the same time, eyes poised towards the door.

“I’ll take it.” Thalmin offered, nodding curtly towards both me and Thacea.

We both glanced at each other for a few short seconds, as the wild flurry of knocks erupted anew.

“You sure, Thalmin?” I stood up, putting my own hat in the ring.

“Yes.” He nodded. “It would be unbecoming of me to allow myself to sit this one out again. So, please, allow me.” The prince urged with a cocksure grin, taking that long walk towards the door… before opening it without much in the way of any fanfare.

There wasn’t a single hint of hesitation at all, only a slight hint of frustration clearly born of tiredness, as the door was swung so fiercely that the figure on the other side of the door actually stepped back out of shock.

“Ah! Well what do we have here then?! A new face to a familiar door?! Prince Thalmin Havenbrock, of Havenbrockrealm if I recall correctly?” The ever-enthusiastic, exceedingly-overdressed, and forever-on-duty Apprentice Ral Altaria Del Narya Sey Antisonzia the Second announced with a somehow tired yet ecstatic fervor.

“Yes.” Thalmin replied bluntly, and with a no-nonsense baritone voice. “Now, did you need something from us? Because I can’t for the life of me think of a good enough reason why you would arrive in the dead of the night to disrupt our points of personal privilege.” The lupinor practically growled at the man, venting his frustrations in a way that clearly showed how done he was with everything.

“I understand and empathize with your grievances, however I must—”

“Just get on with it.” Thalmin interjected, his tone somehow managing to stay perfectly balanced between noble politeness and flat-out aggression.

“Alright, very well, no need to be so informal — I’d appreciate some respect for the uniform… I have a letter.” The man moved to grab a sealed envelope, one with a rather ostentatious looking seal. “From the dean himself, addressed to one Cadet Emma Booker.” The man shot a glance into the room, only to be blocked by Thalmin who took a step forward, more or less taking up the entirety of the open door frame at this point. His height, which stood at a good five or so inches above that of the apprentice, made for a formidable barrier that put the elf at a clear disadvantage. “If you would be so kind as to hand this to her, I will be on my dutiful way, Prince Havenbrock.” The man offered the letter up to the prince… who promptly snatched it with the frustration of a 27th century extrasolar corpo colonist being handed another pile of redundant paperwork.

“I will.” Was Thalmin’s simple response, before stepping back.

“Alright, off I g—” And closing the door with a satisfying CLUNK!

He didn’t go so far as to commit to an Ilunor slam… but perhaps that was for the best.

“A letter from the Dean, huh?” I offered, extending my hand upwards to anticipate Thalmin’s handing over of the ornately decorated piece of mail.

I didn’t even hesitate unsealing it, cracking it open, and clawing at the contents within.

“Let’s see what crap he has in store for us now…” I spoke cautiously, my eyes scanning the instantaneous translation offered by the EVI.

“With sincerest and most… yeah yeah yeah, just get to the point…” I mumbled out with a frustrated huff, my eyes scrolling faster and faster until I finally arrived at the man’s intent.

It was then that I leaned back against the suit, prompting it to mime that motion by more or less assaulting the back of the couch with the force of several tons of metal.

“What is it, Emma?” Thacea urged.

“The dean wants to meet with me. This time, outside of his office and in the courtyard. Though exactly why or for what reason is something that’s left purposefully vague, or completely excluded from this letter. Which makes this entire page-long thing an overly sized, over-glorified memo.” I breathed out another massive sigh before continuing. “I can only hazard two guesses why he’d want to meet face to face though. One — this is a direct followup from Apprentice Arlan Ostoy’s little threat of censorship, more or less fulfilling the promise he made that the matter will be followed up in one way or another. Two—” I breathed out a sigh. “—the man’s going to reveal that he’s caught the drone we left in his office.”

That particular line of thought definitely struck a chord in the rest of the gang, as expressions ranging from anxiousness to concern were found amidst all three.

“That… is most certainly a possibility, provided Sorecar was consulted on the matter of your drone, Emma.” Thacea reasoned. “However, considering the timeline of events, I have my doubts. At risk of undermining our preparation for the worst case scenario through optimistic interpretation, I believe it stands to reason that the man intends to address the former issue rather than the latter.”

“I concur.” Thalmin chimed in. “The Dean may be more spry than he might first appear, but even he cannot operate within this narrow window of opportunity.”

“That checks out, honestly.” I nodded in acknowledgement. “If worse comes to pass then we’ll just have to take the hits as they come. So whether its option A or B doesn’t change much. We’ll just have to wait and see.” A shrug came to me naturally, as I eyed everyone in the group through unflinching lenses. “I think I’ve taken up enough of your guys’ time as is. So… if no one has anything to add, I think it’s high time we call it a night?”

“About time—”

“I have one final matter to address, Emma.” Thalmin spoke up, more or less trampling Ilunor’s little jab and halting him in his tracks. “It pertains to the issue of Auris Ping. The evidence we’ve been able to gather, whilst a major game changer and a milestone for your questline… simply adds more confusion to the theories we have on the man’s actions. If Mal’tory was, and still is in critical condition… then that must mean that Auris Ping is acting independently.”

“Or perhaps he’s acting under another master, the Dean perhaps?” Thacea offered.

“Or maybe he’s just dumb.” I countered, more or less reaffirming my hypothesis from the night of Thalmin’s fateful encounter.

This drew the eyes of the entire group on me, each of them with varying levels of either agreement or complete disregard.

“Honestly, the man’s shown that he’s bullheaded, brash, and completely stuck in his ways. He’s the type to follow through with an idea the moment he thinks of it, no matter the consequences. Heck, he’s shown that he’s more than capable of committing to dumb answers in class even with professors who don’t share his perspective. So honestly? I’d say this is a certified Auris Ping moment. Not to downplay the absolute horror of what you went through, Thalmin. But I just think that the man’s not necessarily the enigma we might think him to be.”

“It’s Rostarion.” Ilunor finally chimed in, standing impatiently with his booted feets tapping the stone and hardwood floors.

This prompted confused glares from the three of us, as the Vunerian simply let out a sigh of frustration. “You must see it, do you not? That little vermin is a trickster! He’s vying for power beneath everyone’s noses and everyone acts none the wiser!”

“Ilunor, just because Rostario took your chair today doesn’t mean-”

“It’s not just about the chair, earthrealmer.” Ilunor seethed with a smoky huff. “It’s a matter of principle, and even disregarding the chair, I sense something… off about him. There’s a scheming underbelly to the soft and plush overcoat, and what’s more, let’s not forget that he’s part of Qiv’s clique.”

“Which is exactly the point, Ilunor. He’s part of Qiv’s group, not Auris Ping’s. The only way for Rostario to have been directly involved is for him to have somehow teamed up against us with Ping’s group. Which, granted, is possible… but I just don’t see it. At least not without more evidence. The offer and argument he gave Thalmin was… reasonable. So unless we see anything contradictory, we’ll have to just wait and see.”

“You’re just enamored by his displays of infantile whimsy. I see right through him, but you seemingly don’t.” Ilunor seethed.

Thalmin considered all of these perspectives with a pensive look, eyeing all three of us before finally giving in with a deflated sigh. “I’ll disregard the Rostario theory for now. However… I believe it won’t do us any harm if we keep our eye on him I suppose.” Thalmin offered a unique compromise for the Vunerian, before pushing forwards. “In any case, we at least have confirmation that the man isn’t under Mal’tory’s spell. Which I’ll take as a tentative win, considering it’s at least a step forward in uncovering the truth behind his actions.”

“Process of elimination, an age-old, but arduous, grinding, taxing process.” I offered, before settling back down into an awkward silence. “So… does anyone have anything else to add?”

The silence continued, prompting me to stand right back up. “Right then, I guess we can consider this ‘meeting’ adjourned.”

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Emma and Thacea’s bedroom. Local Time: 00:20 Hours.

Emma

A good hour or so had elapsed since that meeting.

An hour that I’d spent toiling away at the last vestiges of the seemingly infinite matryoshka doll of a checklist that seemingly had no end.

At least, until it finally did end.

At the end of it, I found myself standing with both arms behind my head, observing the beauty that was The Tent in all of its glory.

Though Tent was hardly the most accurate descriptor for it now, given how far it’d come from that simple pop-up shelter on Day One.

Compound was probably a better term for it, because that’s exactly what it reminded me of at this point. A scaled down version of one of those early lunar hab-sites, or even one of those pioneering underwater hab-stations underneath the icy surface of Europa.

The design team definitely took pointers from it, primarily because it was a tried and tested system that’d worked for nearly a millennium now.

Taking up a good portion of the room… about a quarter of it at this point, was a sprawling maze of wires, tubes, and anchor-points, all neatly contained within modular sections of galvanized and envirosure-coated square composalite. These hardened square rectangular sections of metal created an almost industrial aesthetic as they criss-crossed my requisitioned section of the room, covering the medieval-esque floorboards with an uncaring and utilitarian presence that served only one purpose — the continued survival of the system, for the sake of its sole human occupant.

Two generators dominated the landscape, with a third one hidden and nestled neatly within the tent’s exterior.

Speaking of the tent, it’d probably gone through the least amount of changes throughout the latter part of my assembly process, as the final addition to it — the hygiene module, had already been assembled just last week.

Most of the real work done to the tent was all internal at this point. From printer-fabs, to the armor workbench with all of the unpacked modules, and everything else in between — the tent had become quite full now.

The only other thing that changed the lay of the land aside from the extra generator and the cleanup of the various pipes, cables, and tubes, was the appearance of several key security features.

Namely, the automated security network.

A series of thousands of tiny mechanical eyes lined the exterior of both the tent and the generators, visible as but a simple, flexible, almost cosmetic strip of flexible plastic to the untrained eye — these strips were instead home to a series of cameras that provided an unparalleled view of almost every possible vantage point around the assembled compound.

In addition, several anchor points for dedicated tent defenses were installed between the generators, and at four corners bordering the tent’s perimeter.

To most, these would seem strangely akin to outdoor lawn light fixtures, amounting to just a decently sized black and gray cylinder with nothing to indicate its actual purpose.

Upon detecting a viable threat however, these static defenses would quickly unfurl, revealing simple-but-effective weapons suites designed to neutralize a would-be attacker using anything from a concentrated jolt of electricity, to the laser and kinetic personal-defense armaments present in my suit’s gauntlets.

These made them heavy, of course, reliant on the basic power grid of the tent and thus unable to operate beyond its small perimeter.

But that was the entire purpose behind their existence.

They could move pretty quickly on eight spider-like legs when fully deployed in mobile mode.

But they were ultimately designed to move in order to better neutralize an attacking force, not to act in any other capacity than defense.

Though given the IAS and LREF’s insistence on packing some of the most legendary and versatile workbenches in the tent, I could definitely see the range and operating parameters of the SSDEs (Semi-Static Defense Emplacements) being expanded with a few tweaks here and there…

Regardless, I knew I’d be sleeping more soundly at night with those defenses now fully operational.

And as I stood there, allowing the EVI to run a few final diagnostics using my third mechanical arm to poke and prod at their electrical panels… Thacea finally made her reappearance back into the room from the shower.

Her expressions… said it all, as she just about hid a look of confusion and concern upon seeing what I was up to.

The suit’s third robotic arm quickly retracted as I turned back to face Thacea, her eyes clearly fixating on that anomalous object as it slipped away back into its backpack confines.

“Finishing up your… living arrangements, I presume?” Thacea offered, prompting me to nod sheepishly beneath the helmet.

“Yup, I was.” I nodded.

“I once again wish to express my sincerest sympathies for you having to tolerate such… substandard conditions, Emma. Moreover, it is quite upsetting to see you needing to expend yourself day in and day out, tirelessly, in what is in effect the construction of your own home. Manual labor is quite unbecoming of you, Emma.”

“Heh… I appreciate that, Thacea.” I responded with a confused rub of my head, or helmet, in this case. “But trust me, it’s alright. The training they put me through makes this more or less a walk in the park. An exhausting walk sure, but a walk all the same.” I shot back with a reassuring grin.

“I see.” Was Thacea’s only response as she walked around, seemingly entranced by the workmanship of the prefab and recently-printed components alike. “This truly is oh so very… alien.” She offered. “Your people seem to have perfected what I can only describe as a very… utilitarian means of construction.”

“I think I mentioned this a few days ago Thacea, but… the worlds and spaces we push to inhabit are usually quite inhospitable. The only place we’ve found little issue inhabiting… is our home planet. Otherwise, our story is one of expansion which consistently pits us against the forces of nature itself. And it seems as if that age-old story seems to follow us wherever we go, even into other dimensions, at that.”

“You nestle yourselves in worlds of your own creation, in artificial structures that stand in cold defiance of everything around them. It would be a hard-sell to most, Emma. Many might look at this—” Thacea gestured at the entire setup. “—and see a phage; a plague. A blight that seeks to expand and turn all into itself.”

“Do you see it that way, Thacea?” I countered curiously, cocking my head as I did so.

“No.” The princess replied without a hint of hesitation.

“So what do you see, if not a phage, a plague, or a blight?”

“I see a functional necessity, a self imposed, but necessary cage that must be erected should survival even be considered a possibility. I see a… regrettable set of circumstances, born from a tenacious spirit that stands in defiance to the hand it is dealt.” Thacea paused, as we both took a few steps towards each other. “I see beauty, beneath the cage.”

A small pause punctuated those final few words, as I stood there, arms by my side, staring down at the princess.

“Well gee, Thacea I… really wasn’t expecting an entire poem there.” I replied awkwardly, trying my best to wrack my head around for an appropriate response to that. “I guess… I guess the feeling’s mutual. The world may see me, and you as well, as something… I don’t know, different? But at the end of the day, I guess we both can see past that. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m just glad you’re on my side in this adventure, Thacea.” I offered, eliciting a small nod from the avinor. “I’m sorry I’ve taken enough of your time as is. It’s high time we both go to bed.”

“And time that you take a shower, Emma.” Thacea shot back, taking me by surprise. “I know not what manaless enchantments are beneath that suit of armor, but since most of your time was spent toiling away, you’ve most certainly been neglecting that aspect of your living. So please, ensure you appoint yourself appropriately before tomorrow’s next engagements.”

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Grand Concourse of Learning. The Observer's Cove. Local time: 0900.

Emma

Breakfast was rather… uneventful this time around. Moreover, there was a distinct lack of anything being out of the ordinary, as more or less everyone was present, save for Mal’tory of course; with his chair being taken up by Larial who got up and left halfway during breakfast along with Professor Belnor.

To that end, our journey to Belnor’s classes were also rather uneventful, save for the strange U-turn around and up onto a second level in the grand concourse of learning I hadn’t noticed before.

We eventually found ourselves walking down yet another long corridor, until we were met face to face with a room that at first threw me off.

The space we soon found ourselves in wasn’t the typical lecture-hall arrangement as was the case with the prior three classes.

No.

What we found ourselves filing into instead was a circular room, all tapered downwards towards what appeared to be an oval room encased in a glass dome.

It took me a few seconds more to realize exactly what this arrangement was.

It was one of those old-school operating theaters.

The ones that were actual, literal, theaters.

The reason for this was made all the more clear as the students now made their way towards what would roughly equate to their usual seats.

Because as I got closer, and saw exactly what was through that glass, the comparisons with an operating theater became all the more apparent.

As I saw the red-robed Professor Belnor, currently hacking away at something on a table.

I found myself inching closer, trying to crane my head to get a closer view, and when I did… I thankfully saw her hacking away at a plant rather than some poor live animal or something.

It took a good few minutes before she got what she wanted, which came in the form of an iridescent fluid drained from deep within the plant’s scale-like bark.

It was around that point that she finally turned to face the quarter of the ‘theater’ that was full, and was promptly taken aback. “Good morning, dear students. You caught me in the midst of an operation. Must’ve lost track of time… hmm. Well, take it all in! As what you witness now shall be a common sight to observe in this time-honored place.” The professor paused, positioning herself with both hands behind her back. “I, Professor Belnor, welcome you all to Potions.”