bantayden Chapter 173: A Fair Start
Chapter 173: A Fair Start
Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 2000 Hours
Emma
CURRENT MISSION TIME… T+59 DAYS… 3 HOURS… 27 MINUTES… 43 SECONDS POST-ARRIVAL.
44 SECONDS.
45 SEC...
46…
4—
The seconds ticked on.
While my hand, my very real unarmored hand — its skin now as alien to me as the stretchy nanoprene of my gloves once were — held taut to the physical lever built into the tent’s internal control surfaces.
The files were loaded.
Each byte and every bit transcribed and primed, awaiting my command at the end of an unsteady hand.
…
This whole setup was entirely unnecessary.
Everything was electronic, after all. Yet the physical switches and keys remained — not a remnant of a bygone era or a design driven by nostalgia but a deliberate choice made with the human condition in mind. Decades and centuries of data had made it clear that physical feedback, as anachronistic as it may be, was simply the more effective interface between controller and machine, outperforming anything a touch or holoscreen could ever match by tapping into latent muscle memory.
This was why the lever was even here; just as the controls of vital systems from power plants to battleships were equipped with buttons, wheels, and control columns, all were spring-loaded with finely tuned actuation points.
Because this action would be final.
It needed that resistance, if only to make doubly sure its operator was triply certain of the command they were about to input.
I pulled the lever down—
CRRK
—only to stop a quarter of the way down.
CLUNK!
The mechanism reset, and so did my confidence as my eyes instinctively flicked up to the safety of my HUD, clawing back my report as I was bound for what I promised myself to be the final check-through of its contents.
The information within thankfully covered a month far less involved than the first.
My eyes skimmed past the Handshake Package, the cover letter that I’d spent barely an hour on but poured my entire heart into, skipping it as I knew changing anything now would risk losing its intent.
My gaze then darted leftwards, towards the floating indexes and the contents nestled within.
I scanned them all.
SCOUTING OPERATIONS
RESEARCH LOGS
CROSS-SECTIONAL ANALYSES
AFTER ACTION REPORTS
DIPLOMATIC ACTIVITIES
EXO-REALITY DATAPOINTS
THREAT ANALYSIS REPORTS
EXPERIMENTAL DIRECTIVES UPDATES
EXO-REALITY RESEARCH FINDINGS
LOGGED ACTION INCIDENTS
…
My eyes lingered on the latter, forcing the indexed ‘papers’ within to line themselves neatly across my FOV.
A fact that made me acutely aware of a growing, unnerving dissonance — the lack of that all-encompassing snappiness afforded by the armor’s infosuite.
I pushed that thought aside for now.
Even if the EVI deemed it prudent to log it within my medical status report.
It didn’t take long to line up the — thankfully — paltry sum of incident reports.
A contrast made even more apparent when last month’s logs were lined up behind it.
SECURITY INCIDENTS
I blinked.
TOTAL: 2
And I nodded.
Security Incident M2-01: The Yellowbrick Road Fiasco
There wasn’t much here to parse… it was barely an incident and scarcely counted if it wasn’t for Ping’s insistence on escalating matters as he tended to…
Though its consequences were dire — at least when it came to our sight-seer exchanges — as it led to a series of non-sequitors, pushing back Thalmin’s sight-seer presentation, which he insisted on showing before my own.
Security Incident M2-02: The Racetrack Biting Incident
This one had even less to chew on, its only lasting impact being a rescheduling of Thalmin’s racing match with Qiv, on account of Aquastride biting off her opponent’s left face before the race had a chance to even start…
I quickly moved on from there, reviewing the science, the research, the experimental directives, and quite literally everything, seeing time pass from seconds to minutes.
I was barely halfway through when Thalmin’s voice came through the tent’s internal speakers, his tone on the very edge of sheer and unadulterated excitement.
“Emma? Do you copy?”
“Tent-1 Actual, heard.” I responded.
“Again with your human communication monickers… for a people blessed in infinite creativity, you certainly spend it sparingly when it counts.” He snickered before moving onto his actual point. “We’re due for the Guild Fair in less than half an hour. I would kindly ask that you hasten your pace, if at all possible.”
“Roger that, Dreadwolf Actual.”
“... I said we’d work on our ‘callsigns,’ Blue Knight.”
“Hey, I can’t help it if my name just hits right off the bat, Thalmin.” I offered with a cheeky smile, before ending the call on the prince’s terms.
“Just make haste. I can’t wait to inspect this Fight Club.”
“And I can’t wait to see what Etholin has to offer me in the Merchant’s Club as well, so there’s that.” I nodded, ending the transmission and then turning towards the litany of subheaders still floating aggressively in front of me.
“Right… ok, I’m just overthinking this. Let’s skip to the end, shall we, EVI?”
“Acknowledged.”
FINAL ASSESSMENT AND STRATEGIC OUTLOOK
I took a deep breath.
…
Then jumped right back in.
Social friction has been minimized following the conclusion of the Quest for the Everblooming Blossom. Resultant social accreditation stemming from said Quest, in addition to the natural social stratification-against-time curve (Thacea Dilani, 3047.), has resulted in a quantifiable decrease in ‘Negative Social Events’ (NSEs), and ‘Social Confrontation Events’ (SCE), as the peer group — and by extension myself — have crystalized into an unremarkable position within the social hierarchy. This is possibly encouraged by the Dean’s own interests, though without evidence this point remains speculation. Further aiding in the decrease in the incidence of reported Adverse Events (AE) is the mission operator’s absence in social events, stemming primarily from 2 ongoing operations.
Operation: Bruteforce Breakthrough Operation: Michelin MadnessItem [1] has resulted in a significant expenditure of after-class hours spent in The Library, to facilitate efforts in search of intelligence involving the 30th Manatype without assistance from The Librarian. This follows a failure to establish mutually acceptable terms of exchange, as The Library’s demands for said intelligence were contingent on disclosures which would otherwise compromise standing INFOSEC directives.
Item [2] has necessitated the expenditure of the remaining after-class mission hours on attaining legitimate access into the Academy’s kitchens. Significant time has been invested primarily on navigating the convoluted bureaucracy of the Academy to these ends. Though the priority of this operation remains tentatively secondary to mission-critical operations, Operation Michelin Madness is both adjacent to and directly correlary to multiple assigned Experimental Directives, thus necessitating increased mission hour expenditure.
Whilst current nutrition access remains nominal, and M-REDD operations have reached its practical aims — the decontamination of local foodstuffs to supplement operator nutrition — the Mission Operator remains adamant that the qualitative aspects (i.e. taste) of said foodstuffs is of utmost relevance to maintaining morale. It is thus the expressed intent of Operation Michelin Madness to ascertain the causative factors for all local foodstuffs’ current suboptimal sensory characteristics (otherwise referred to as ‘blandness’ in qualitative assessments).
Mission Operator is expected to gain access to the Academy Kitchens pending approval from aforementioned bureaucratic processes. Expected time: 7-28 Days from time of report.
However, there exists another hypothesis capable of being assessed in the intervening time (refer to EXPERIMENTAL DIRECTIVES UPDATES Page 27, Section 12, Line 3). Mission Operator will attempt collection of non-Academy foodstuffs from Elaseer’s local street food vendors for both quantitative and qualitative assessments, to determine if non-noble cuisine may hold significant deviations from current observed baselines.
…
Open hostilities have reduced in frequency, pending Class Sovereign conflicts between both hostile parties (Auris Ping, Qiv’Ratom).
Though future opportunities for conflict are noted, with impending events including but not limited to:
‘Flight Class’ - Potential Hostilities noted between Airit Airus and Thacea Dilani. ‘Class Sovereign Challenges’ - Potential for social disruption and/or unprompted participation in its affairs. ‘Pen Business Operations’ - Conflict of interest in involved parties. Pending proposal to Lord Etholin Esila. The Impending Black Robe Assignment - Reports of the assignment of a new black robe professor implies increased meddling from the Crown.…
CLOSING NOTES
The Mission Operator shall continue efforts in pursuit of the causative factors behind the ‘30th Manatype Incident’, now classified as High Priority. The return of Apprentice Larial within the subsequent days shall reopen the currently dormant ‘Seekership’ Operations by allowing the temporary acquisition and transfer of the ‘Green Book’ to The Library.If successful, the Mission Operator shall gain access to Inquisitorial titles at the behest of The Library, transforming the strategic landscape for subsequent Scouting and Recon operations for the foreseeable future.
Leveraging the social and political authority/capital offered through the Inquisitorial ‘rank’ by The Library will improve outlooks for ongoing mission critical aims; The Search and Acquisition of Records and Intelligence purged by Professor Mal’Tory. Subject lines include items with growing pertinence to recent developments, including (in order of mission relevancy): i.) “Section One. A Tainted Reality: A Wretched Collection of Historical Affidavits During the Reconciliation and Reformation of Otherwise Lost Realities.”
ii.) “Section Five. The Unfortunate Procedures Against Unruly Realms and the Instances in Which Such Procedures Were Incurred.”
iii.) “Section Two. The Unspoken War and the Treacherous Alliance.”
iv.) “Section Four. A Sordid Account of the Most Bizarre of Newrealmer Arrivals: A Death By Harmonization and the Ensuing Investigation.”
v.) “Section Three. All surviving works from Alaroy Rital.”
The Mission Operator believes intel gathered on aforementioned subject headers purged by Professor Mal’tory will provide invaluable insight into the Nexus’ intentions. Moreover, with recent developments, the preemptive denial of Section One suggests elements within the Nexian leadership anticipated our interest in the material well in advance.
The Mission Operator defers further speculation to the relevant parties privy to this report.
Report Ends.
I stared blankly at the read-only file.
After which—
CLICK-CLACK!
—it was done.
[703.5.77 IAS-PP SYSTEMS
EXOREALITY COMMUNICATION SUITE
PERFORMING POST-TRANSMISSION CHECKS
PENDING…
PENDING…
TRANSMISSION SENT SUCCESSFULLY!]
[CHARGE TIME RESET… 21 DAYS +/- 7 DAYS. SET MODE TO: RECEIVE]
Somewhere in the Nexus
Matriarch Kaelthyr
CRRRKK!
Lightning.
A cramping, sharp, shooting, transient but palpable shattering…
Then… nothing.
My eyes narrowed, craning my head back to a place now a month’s flight behind me.
So it goes…
Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 2020 Hours
Emma
I stared at my hand for a moment.
I clenched my fists, performing fine motor diagnostics without the obstruction of gloves or gauntlets.
And it felt… off.
I knew not to dwell on it.
It was expected in prolonged wear.
This sort of thing was covered extensively in literature, lectures, and open Q&As.
But as one of those guest lecturers pointed out…
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“It’s one thing to be aware of it, but another thing entirely to actually go through it. Understanding the mechanics, the science, and the psychology behind it does soften the blow. It doesn’t prevent the impact from happening, though.”
I guess the ‘impact’ in question finally hit. And no matter how much I tried… I couldn't really shake it.
Still, I didn’t have time to think too much of it.
There was a student club fair to attend…
Sigh.
With a tug and a pull, I brought the stretchy fabric of the undersuit up and over my arms. The motions were more or less automatic now, as I eventually moved to anchor myself to the baggier oversuit before trudging my way to the back of the awaiting armor.
“There are decades where weeks happen, but weeks where decades happen… we’re one for one right now, so let’s see how this next month fares…” I spoke to no one in particular, hopping into the armor and then gliding my way to the airlock doors.
From there, the familiar sight of Thacea’s awaiting presence greeted me yet again, a simple cross of her arms relaying all that I needed to know about the current state of affairs.
“Hey, don’t look at me like that! You’re looking at someone who just made exoreality history… for the third time in a row now. So I think I deserve some slack if I’m, like, 5 minutes late!” I offered with a snarky chuckle, garnering but a passing sigh from the princess, who simply turned around, commanding me forward with a wave of her hand.
Those simple gestures alone were enough to alleviate my lingering anxieties.
While most may have expected more of her princess-ly decorum to have given way over the month — a cock of a hip here or a lean on the wall there — Thacea never did.
I’ve learned through many, many fireside chats, amidst vast and seemingly infinite stretches of bookshelves in our expeditions into the bowels of the library, that as much as there was no Princess Dilani without Thacea, the same was true when applied the other way around.
Thacea, in a similar vein to Thalmin, was inseparable from the title which preceded her identity.
There were quirks beneath the veil, yes. Her little flustered tics, her inclination towards abashment in the form of those stutters, pauses, and head tilts, as well as that indescribable change in her gaze whenever she shifted from the theatre of decorum to meaningful dialogue. Yet these quirks were as very much a part of her as her refinement, etiquette, and her uncanny command of authority was.
Suffice it to say, I liked both aspects of her.
Because without one or the other, she wouldn’t be, well… who she was.
But that was beside the point.
My attention quickly shifted to Thalmin, who, after what felt like an entire week of growing excitement, was now finally back in his Havenbrockian armor.
A sight which I much appreciated, especially given how the school uniform more or less destroyed that princely aura that he otherwise naturally exuded.
“Good to see you in full regalia, mercenary prince.” I grinned widely, reaching for a tight handshake before pulling each other close in a chestplate-to-chestplate chest bump without any outside prompting.
“You’d imagine the thin flowy academy tunics to be the more comfortable of the two to wear… but no. I felt more constricted in that ridiculous outfit than I ever did in any manner of armor or war gear.” Thalmin responded with a confident swagger, placing both fists by his hips.
“I’d be careful with that sort of confidence, Thalmin. We wouldn’t want a repeat of the last time you were in full gear, now would you?” I teased, garnering a frustrated growl from the man.
“Lady Cynthis Mena has yet to have reared up her Nexian-decorated face since then. I don’t imagine she’d have a reason now, during guild fair hours, to try her luck.” Thalmin countered.
“You never know when it comes to ambush predators, Thalmin.” I doubled down. “It’s in their namesake, after all. They strike when you least expect them to.”
“Just as I am about to strike all of you lest we make haste!” Ilunor finally chimed in, his cheeks freshly blued from whatever mixture of powders he’d been experimenting with over the past few weeks.
“I hate to be the one to agree with a Nexian, but he has a point, Emma.” Thalmin concurred. “After all, how else am I going to introduce you to a battle mage and their sight-seer?!”
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Exhibition Hall. Grand Arcade. Central Thoroughfare. Local Time: 2045 Hours.
Emma
The past four weeks had been marked by an increasing trend towards monotony.
Routine had taken hold, even in spite of our great escapades within the library’s innards.
Because as Buddy himself had warned:
“You know I’ll be happy to be your guide, Friend Emma! But be warned, expeditions into the infinite shelves for a single book are often as successful as chasing a single snowflake in an unending blizzard. I’d know, because I’m still searching for that stupid snowflake!!!”
Buddy never did find that snowflake.
Nor did he remember why he was searching for it in the first place.
Thankfully, we didn’t forget our objective.
Even if we ended up — much like Buddy — empty-handed for all of our efforts.
So while searches into the great void entity came up with nothing, what we did find was something Buddy never could given the solitary nature of his personal escapades — camaraderie.
More specifically, a lot of time to reflect and just… talk. Discussions over long walks, flights, campfires and a great deal of other modes of rest and transport within the library’s infinite aisles.
It was… satisfying, in a sense. To finally find a lull in the action to discuss matters adjacent or entirely unrelated to the rigors of existential crises.
In a way, it was making up for the breakneck pace of that first month. A breath of fresh air we all didn’t know we needed until we’d finally stopped sprinting.
The intensifying drudgery of classes certainly helped to foster this much needed monotony too, as each class fed into an infinite feedback loop of school reports blending into monthly reports, as the intel train kept expanding, only to be shipped off today; a day which marked the two month mark of this mission.
And whilst there was nothing to indicate that this arbitrary date was in any way different from the rest of the days during this ‘lull month’... there was just something about tonight — be that the exo-reality comms milestone or the Guild Fair — that made it feel like this era of calm was finally coming to a close.
And strangely enough, if I was reading the mood of the room right, this wouldn’t really be an unwelcome change.
Each of us wanted something to progress for our own ends.
Ilunor for his library debt woes.
Thalmin for that exchange of military presentations and a growing interest in all things Earthrealm.
Me for literally everything I was assigned… and then some.
And Thacea… well… It was hard to say. There was something there, something I couldn’t pin down. Though this probably required a conversation to be had, and at her own pace.
One thing was for certain, though.
She was interested. Be that in an actual alliance or something like it, there was a desire to expand relations.
And I’d be ready to take that on whenever she decides to pull the trigger.
Perhaps this was why the Guild Fair was something all of us were subtly — or not so subtly in Thalmin’s case — looking forward to.
It came just in time to mark the end of the second month, tempting fate to put the scales back into the rhythms of action.
This was in spite of it being, in every sense of the word, a glorified Extracurricular Student Club recruitment event.
Though in typical Nexian fashion, it was souped up to be an event worthy of rivalling circuses and exhibitions.
Because within this particular wing of the Academy were sights, sounds, and spectacles teased for an entire week now.
This coincided with the increased frequency of second, third, and even fourth-year students making their presence known amidst the first-years; a phenomenon which was poised to test Thacea’s social stratification hypothesis, as what was slowly settling into stone for us, was poised to be upset by the whims of those seniors looking down from the proverbial rafters.
All of these thoughts, these considerations, these excitements and anxieties came to a head as those triple-doors opened into a dazzling array of lights, practically turning night to day as the Guild Fair began in earnest with a single deafening announcement.
“WWEEEELLLLLCOOOOMMEEEEEE to the 29,019th STUDENTS’ GUILD FAIR!!!! I count one… Two… THREE… FOUR new newcommeeerrrrrssss!” A disembodied voice echoed from afar, my cameras and sensors eventually honing onto the origins of said voice, zeroing in on what appeared to be a miniature blimp flying overhead the cavernous space.
It was fitting too, considering how the entire hall resembled one of those retired airship hangars from First Era of Dirigibles, what with its wrought iron trusses criss-crossing the ceiling and walls but giving way to a massive glass mural in the middle of said ceiling, one which that stretched for several kilometers in every direction.
“Oh, Sienta, you don’t need to count every student who walks through those doors!” A second voice emerged, coming from the same mini blimp.
“Oh, Niyanti, you know I do!”
“As your cohost, I assure you, you don’t need to, lest we’d be here all night!”
“But Niyanti… that’s precisely the allure of tonight! Because tomorrow… classes are OPTIONAL!”
Several horns sounded at the end of that proclamation, as I realized the upper-yearsmen pair were literally just… repeating what we’d already been informed of.
A quick glance to the massive mural painted on the side of the blimp made it clear why this was the case, however.
JOIN THE PERFORMING ARTS GUILD! SPONSORED BY THE FLYING GUILD! SUPPORTED BY THE ARTIFICING GUILD! AND PAINTED BY THE ARTS GUILD!
It was… an admittedly beautiful mural, depicting the two upper yearsmen in question, dressed in what I could only describe as an exaggerated blend of Victorian and Elizabethan attire, crossing arms in an exchange of drinks, all while holding wands that acted as microphones in their other hands.
If there’s ever one thing I can agree with Ilunor… is that all of us seem to have a yearning for the arts.
With that ostentatious introduction out of the way, our sights were set on the entire exhibition hall in front of us.
A space… packed to the absolute brim, giving off World’s Fair, Circus, Zoo, and Job Fair vibes all packed into a kaleidoscopic mess.
And, unlike most spaces in most Academy events, this one was actually packed.
The turnout seemed to include everyone from our yeargroup.
Moreover, fresh new faces from second, third, and fourth years blended within their midst, most of whom were placed behind stalls, counters, or flat-out boardwalks lining the false-front facades of many pop-up structures set up within this massive space.
It was… genuinely quite impressive.
Though what pushed it over the edge was the nonstop sights and sounds that was yet another real stress test for the EVI’s WAID sensors.
Thalmin seemed ready to bolt.
Whilst Ilunor had already left our side, choosing instead to direct himself to some of the fancier parts of the space. A sign in that general direction made it clear what his goals were.
THIS WAY TO THE GASTRONOMICAL APPRECIATION SOCIETY
I shrugged as I continued on with Thalmin leading the way.
We walked past… a few unassuming stalls at first. A writing club, origami club, miniature model club, wood sculpting club… most of which seemed to consist of a roster of students countable in a single hand.
It was only when we passed these niche, almost single-person clubs that we finally started getting into the good stuff.
With the first stop being something that Thalmin seemed visibly interested in, but merely windowshopped through all the same — the Equitation Guild.
A wooden boardwalk greeted us in this section of the grand hall, as stalls of horses that seemed as expensive as they were rare lined its interior.
Several interested faces even called for the prince’s attention, probably on the account of Aquastride still very much being on everyone’s radar, though Thalmin merely regarded them with a respectful nod and a tip of his nonexistent cowboy hat before promptly departing from that guild.
I took my time to linger for just a bit longer, however.
As my eyes landed on what appeared to be a headless horseman, or at least, one holding a flaming head within the crook of their—
“Emma, come on! We’re nearly there!” Thalmin urged as I was dragged regardless of my growing curiosities.
We sped by several other clubs, one of which caught my attention more than others, as it seemed like it was—
“Ah, I see the first year newrealmer golem is interested in returning to its fold?” A slimy, amphibian second-yearsman chimed in, confirming exactly what this workshop was and likewise reinforcing the direction of things to come when it came to these second-years…
The ridicule was still there.
Though hopefully because of the year gap, there’d be less of it, especially when there were more important matters on the agenda.
Moving on from that, we eventually landed on what appeared to be a circus tent.
An ominous black facade mimicking a castle’s tower stood in front as the entrance to this structure, as several grunts, groans, and the occasional sound of fists THWUMPING into punching bags escaped from within.
“Ahh. The mercenary prince himself. I’ve been… expecting you.” A small, shell-faced creature spoke from behind the table, his head barely larger than my fists, and his body—
Crrrkkk!
…
That explains it.
The… what I could only describe as a crab-rock creature rose up, towering above all three of us as he looked down from a decent height advantage.
A small glance towards his school uniform put him in third year, explaining why we haven’t yet even seen the man.
“Please, follow me…” He urged, prompting Thalmin, me, and Thacea to enter the dark and ominous establishment.
…
Within, was a sparse, yet intense crowd.
The whole space seemed to be divided as a boxing ring would be. Bleachers on four sides, and a raised square arena situated in the very center of the structure.
Between the bleachers and the arena was the actual floorspace, currently host to a few of the larger students, ranging from what looked to be rhinos to hippos and even a few of those rock-crab beings manning the reception booth.
However, one face amidst these stood out. A face that seemed as ridiculously stereotypical as it was expected.
An elf.
Though one that seemed to radiate a sense of competence despite the smug aura plastered across his face.
His armor seemed to do most of the talking for him. What I could only describe as a typical paladin’s setup, complete with segmented pieces for mobility, but also joint armor that seemed more similar to liquid metal than any hard or squishy padding I’d expected.
The red-haired, red-eyed, olive-skinned man eventually approached us, raising his arms wide at both sides in a display of prideful confidence.
“Welcome! Welcome, mercenary prince! We’ve been… expecting you.” He smiled, swooshing his cape in the process. “My name… is Lord Efwin Swinsonn, Fourth Year Student, and Battlemage-in-training. Welcome… to our humble abode.”
“Thank you.” Thalmin responded with a curt nod. “I am Prince Thalmin Havenbrock, First Year Student. And, if you’d be so gracious, member-to-be of the Students’ Martial Arts Guild.”
“A man of conviction, I appreciate that. Though I believe we need to discuss exactly what you’re getting yourself into here, Prince Thalmin. I don’t think you of all people need this discussion, but perhaps your friends do.” He turned to both me and Thacea before shifting his attention back to Thalmin. “You see, we do things a bit… differently in the Martial Arts Guild. We don’t decorate ourselves in euphemisms, or hide behind decorum whose social fabric all stem from a single, immutable source.” The man paused, grinning, as he ignited two fireballs in both hands. “Magic. Or more specifically, the use of force, offered by magic. For as much as everyone may claim power through the arts, the industries, the mercantile prospects, and so on and so forth… when all is said and done, there remains one, pure, immutable authority that places all beneath its heel…” He paused, giving the spotlight to Thalmin, figuratively and — with a few magical spotlights — literally as well.
“Force.” Thalmin answered bluntly. “Though I expect more than just brute force from this guild.” He added, garnering a discerning look from the elf. “Naked force is as useful as a screaming child is in the wilderness. It’s how you use that force, how you direct it, how you harness it and incorporate it into a political framework that it actually has any hope of forging meaning.” He ‘corrected.’ garnering a disparaging then outright dismissive laugh from the man.
“Flighty concepts.” He nodded, garnering a series of nods from his fellows before silencing them with a raised fist. “Nothing wrong with flighty concepts, of course. But within these walls we care not for the world outside. Because here? We focus on harnessing that raw potential. Whatever you wish to use it for, is your responsibility. But here? We celebrate raw magical strength.”
Thalmin took a few steps towards the man, practically a foot apart now, as he nodded in understanding. “That’s precisely what I was looking for.”
A brief staredown soon followed before the elf once more nodded with a keen smile. “Then it’s settled. Let’s get the matter of your registration in order! And let’s get you acquainted with the Guild Master herself…”
A slight rustle of one of the tent’s many curtains soon followed as a familiar figure stepped forward, one booted foot at a time.
“May I introduce our faculty overseer, sponsor, and undefeated battlemaster… Professor Articord.”
Overbridge Service Road. Warehouse District. Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Local Time: 2100 Hours.
Apprentice Trainee Garna Sul
We should’ve been back in the guild hall by now.
Everything should have been done hours prior.
Alas, the convenience of the dregs means nothing for the whims of the elite.
Though this wasn’t exactly always true.
The Blue Knight stood in defiance to this notion.
Despite being an entire month since then, her charity still rings loudly to those at the bottom of the pecking order.
Still, that was a far off anomaly, and even less relevant of a thought to the job required of me tonight.
For tonight… I had to finish these shipments into the newly rebuilt warehouse; a structure that had just been completed not a few days prior.
Nobody really told us what exactly happened that night. Only that a dragon appeared and released the vast array of creatures slated for the Academy, stored within.
“Finnaaaalllyyyy… the river’s openin’ up again.” A voice from one of the workers echoed through the cold night air, as I slowed down just for a moment to hear the towns’ gossip.
“Oh thank His Majesty’s blessings… my cousin’s a riverboater, uses this canal for a shortcut y’know?”
“Ahhh, really now? Yeah, ‘dunno why they’ve closed it fer so long.”
“Heard that there’wer swimmin’ monsters they couldn’t catch. That, or some trinkets or some such fell in. Whatever it was, they locked it down for a loooongggg while.”
“Did they get whatever they were lookin’ for?” I finally chimed in, smiling politely, beaming at a bunch of workers who looked at me as if they were bothered by some street urchin or stray creature.
“Who’re you askin, boy? If I were you, I’d stay far, far away from Academy business.”
“Yeah… don’t give them a reason to CATCH YA, ya hear?”
The gaggle of old men laughed in a half-buzzed stupor, garnering a head shake and a disappointed sigh from myself.
…
Maybe they were right. Maybe there was nothing to it.
Even so… you couldn’t blame an aspiring adventurer of all people to dream beyond the narrow fold.
“I heard they were fishin’ bodies, actual dead bodies too. Not animals, but like, people bodies.” One of them spoke, even drunker than before now.
“Yer’ dumb! Nobody died that night!”
“Erm, some carter’folk died. ‘Least that’s what the gossip around town’s been saying.”
“Oh really, where exactly?”
“Where do you think, idiot. Inside the exploding warehouse!”
“Then why would they be fishing out bodies if they died in the warehouse?”
“Maybe they walked into the canal after they died?”
“And then drowned?”
“Yeah!”
“His Eternal Mercies… you’re both dumb…”
And so the argument went on, drunker and drunker still.
Yet… I couldn’t help but to think about that.
Maybe there was a mystery lurking beneath the veil.
Something that could be a job for—
“Oi Garna! There are more runestones ya forgot back here!”
“Y-yes sir! Right away, sir!”