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Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (147/?) Revised Version 1
🕑 Added 2025-10-04 23:48:39 +0000 UTCAuthor’s Note: Hey everyone! There’s just been a few revisions in this one that I think are worth looking at since I think it improves the vibes and the mood and tone that I wanted to go for near the end of Ignalius’ scene in this chapter! :D Beyond that, there are the usual edits for grammar, spelling, and the like! :D That’s about it for this revision! As always, all of the edits are highlighted with underlines in order to tell what’s been revised! :D
The Nexus. The Kingdom of Transgracia. Skyward Spire Upon Ethalsyd. Airward Court. Sky Warden’s Office. Local Time: 1900 Hours.
Mercenary Captain Ignalius Av-Lisinius
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I sat there alone in a room too ostentatious for its own good.
I craned my head upwards to observe a mural — painted with the brightest of crimsons and the deepest of blues — depicting the scaly beasts which called this forsaken fortress home, set against the very skies which they dominated without contest.
With a sigh and a stretch, I turned to my left, only to bear witness to articles of furniture I swore I’d once gleaned from Crownland advertisements — delicate, spindly things too frail for a life out here in the crests of the outlands.
Finally — and with little regard to station and etiquette — I tucked my legs up and leaned to my right, observing the night skies beyond the sheltered courtyard below, watching in mild wonder at the beasts that came and went beneath the sentry of this outcropping of an office.
The only thing left to sell the storybook sensibility of this place would be a large balcony from which to deliver speeches.
A sigh soon followed, as I reached my hands upwards for a shoulder stretch, my eyes promptly landing on the greatwood desk in front of me, though I found my interests taken not by the crystal balls nor fanciful trinkets atop of it.
A derisive smirk soon found its home on my ugly mug as I glared frustratingly at the two suits of armor flanking the bookcase behind said desk.
One for war.
Another for galas.
The former still had its pristine first coat. Its mirror-perfect sheen and the scent of evershine wax betrayed as much.
While the latter? Well… the latter had clearly gone through its second, third, or maybe even its fourth everclear coat.
I couldn’t help but let out a fitful chuckle at that ridiculous observation.
Oh, how far you’ve come, dear cousin.
FWOOOSH!
Utter the forsaken, and the forsaken shall come.
“What are you laughing about this time?” The would-be Skylord spoke. His frame, and indeed his choice of attire, clashed against the title of his station.
“Oh Captain, my Captain, please forgive this lowlife’s insubordination.” I returned facetiously, placing a twice-healed hand atop an armored chest.
The noble winced at that self-deprecating jab, his right eye twitching whilst both of his gloved hands reached to steady himself against the sturdiness of his leather-topped desk.
He glared at me with vitriol, wishing oh so desperately to spout out inflammatory derogatives amidst calls to reform.
But he couldn’t.
Not when he had no more familial bearing to do so.
Or at least that’s what I’d assumed would be the case.
“You sully our blood.” He finally managed out.
“Oh…” I responded with a cheshire grin. “Oh, that’s new!” My smile grew wider as I couldn’t help but to grab both knees tightly, reeling in a cackle that formed at the edges of my gleeful face. “Oh, I thought I’d escaped it all. But this? Oh, this is creative!” I chortled, eliciting yet another disgusted side-eye from the would-be Skylord. “Alright, alright. Let me play this game. What would this make you then, hmm? No longer cousin by law, so perhaps cousin by blood? I know they say that blood is thicker than water, but dear cousin… I never took you for someone so merciful—”
“Enough!” The elf shouted. His voice carried with it a spell powerful enough to counteract my own escalating coyfulness. “This isn’t a family reunion.”
“So what is it then, m’lord?” I questioned, placing a chin between two armored hands.
“I’m calling in a favor. One backed by gold and silent decree.” Rasante spoke firmly, though my attention landed less on the timbre of his mana-backed speech and more on the jingle of coins he’d placed on his desk.
“I’m listening.” I responded, shelving everything in exchange for the now.
“The powers that be are… nervous, Ignalius. Word from the Crownlands has it that the Academy and Elaseer have become quite a hotspot for… let’s just say unprecedented activity.”
I raised a brow at that, leaning back against my seat and allowing both of my legs to return to the carpeted floor with a dull PLOOMPF.
“Is this about the dragon or the explosion?” I questioned intently. “Because I’m not messing with a Goldthorn’s investiga—”
“The former, Ignalius. Strained our ties may be, I wouldn’t allow your skills to be lost on some one-way mission. Not that it was necessary to begin with.” He shrugged.
“So the dragon, then.” I surmised, crossing my arms as I did so. “As if that’s also not a one-way mission, am I right?” I spoke with a sarcastic hiss.
“You’ve dealt with worse.” He countered.
“Oh, most certainly, but—”
“But what, Ignalius? Are you getting old? Is a single amethyst dragon too much of a task for the legendary Breaker of Rontalis’ Halls of Coin? The Silencer of the Guilds? Or perhaps the rumors are true, and you’ve gotten—”
“Setting me off is unwise, cousin.” I cautioned, flaring the local manastreams with a purposeful and unsettling rhythm.
“Alright then.” The Skylord simply nodded, his features unbothered. “Let’s de-escalate, shall we?”
I didn’t respond, merely gesturing for him to continue.
“The amethyst situation is escalating. But no one wishes to commit.” He led on, moving towards the windows and leaving his back entirely exposed.
The temptation was… almost unbearable.
My hands moved to tickle the hilt of my blades as I attempted to steady my breath, my core shivering at the thought of all the ways this foolish move could so easily go awry.
A leap and a stab.
A swipe and a crack.
Or perhaps two deep, long cuts straight through the sides of the spine.
It would be ever so crunchy.
“—neither the King nor the Privy Council wishes to let this situation escalate.” I heard the tail end of Rasante’s words but only regained composure after he craned his head back to face me. “Were you even listening?”
“Oh, sorry.” I responded with a smile. “You know how politics is not my strong suit. Probably why you guys kicked me out, am I right—”
“Let’s not dig up skeletons right now, Ignalius.”
“Alright, alright.” I acquiesced under a frustrated breath. “Run all that by me again, will you?”
The man would’ve growled if he weren’t so bound by decorum. So he did the next best thing and ha-rumphed in response.
“Let me put this in a way more conducive to your bastard sensibilities.” He seethed, eliciting nary a shift nor a yawn from my bored posture. “Nobody is willing to foot the first bill, and nobody wants to be the one to start rocking the boat. At least, not until the prime agitator of this incident reemerges as the obvious scapegoat.”
I raised a brow at this but yawned all the same. “So everyone’s waiting on the Goldthorn’s investigations? Big deal. Just wait then. What’s the rush—”
“The rush is that there’s an amethyst dragon on the loose, you donkey!” Rasante interjected. “If nobody acts, then everyone runs the risk of losing face in the event of a catastrophic attack.”
“Sooooo why not act?” I raised up both hands.
This prompted the noble to let out an even deeper sigh, as he very nearly slammed his head against the window inches from his face.
“Because to act is to rock the boat. It sends the wrong message. To the Privy Council, it signals some sort of desire to mop up and clean up after an associate. And nobody on the council wishes to associate themselves with the potential agitator of this incident. To His Majesty the King of Transgracia and his lords? Potential losses mean a loss of face in terms of his Kingdom’s strength. Moreover, he knows this is ultimately a Crownlands incident. Being too proactive — and being successful at it — sets the precedence for either decreased Crownlands involvement, and thus greater local burdens, or it may incite revisions over the ancient treaties on the engagement of Academy-related incidents.”
“Wait. But wouldn’t being successful at taking out the dragon make the Kingdom of Transgracia look strong? Thus strengthening their position?”
“At the expense of making the Crownlands look weak, yes.” Rostante immediately countered. “They’d be seen by the Crownlands as committing a deadly sin — leveraging personal success at the Crownlands’ expense. While publicly there may be no backlash, at least none that you can see.” He derided. “Behind curtains and veils, there would be infernium to pay for such a loss of face.”
“Right.” I replied bluntly. “But last I heard, the town criers of Telaseer were talking about patrols being deployed—”
“In a defensive capacity, while the Crown prepares to deal with the matter directly. Everyone’s ready to react reflexively, but no one is willing to do anything proactively. At least, not with their own assets.” Rosante reasoned.
This finally got my attention.
“So… the adventuring solution.” I chuckled out.
“That, along with Crown warrants, yes.” Rasante confirmed.
“Done through intermediaries, between intermediaries, to lengthen the road between issuer and quest-taker.” I added.
“Why don’t you just spell out the entire alphabet while you’re at it?” The would-be Skylord shot me down. “The rest is self-explanatory. Success or failure… all of this will be at the gain… or expense of the independent quest-taker.”
“And the quest-giver too.” I added dubiously. “You. You of all people are going to be taking the risk—”
“Need I remind you, peasant, that I am the incumbent Sky Warden of this region.” Rasante beamed, as I could practically hear the satisfaction emanating between each punctuated word. “It is within my purview of responsibilities to take proactive action to secure this patch of fine sky, in any way I see fit. And the way I see it… the amethyst dragon has made itself a threat worthy of being dispatched. I just lack the men—”
“No. What you lack is the strength and courage to take losses.” I countered with a sharp snap of my tongue. “Because, Sky Warden, any losses will incur reports. And if those reports are on the books, well…”
“Oh dear cousin. How I wonder if there is even an ounce of our blood running through your veins.” Rasante shook his head. That one action somehow leveraged greater vitriol than any passing word or slight. “Have I not made myself clear? Of course everyone wants to act! This isn’t about acting, but who takes the initiative. I have all of the cards and none of the potential drawbacks. I am neither a Privy Council member nor a member of the King’s Court.”
“Then why aren’t you sending your own men?” I sniped harshly, my gaze unflinching, drilling into the back of his head.
And he felt it.
“You’re in the bag as much as any bigwig. Except you don’t have people breathing down your neck… at least, not until they see reason to do so. Reasons such as, wellll, perhaps an abnormal peak in casualties and losses. That’s why you’re sending me and not your own. End of story.” I countered confidently, lifting myself up from that armchair and moving to gently grip both of Rasante’s shoulders. “You need me, and you’re trying to pull the ol’ ‘I don’t really need you’ maneuver because yer cheap.” I gripped those shoulders tight, sending a shiver down the man’s spine. “You wanna preempt payment negotiations, and yer failing at it, O dear Warden of the Skies.” I spoke breathily into the elf’s ears, causing the hairs on his neck to visibly tingle.
Though that satisfaction could only last for so long.
“ENOUGH!” He yelled, emitting a powerful magical force that sent me flying back, causing the books, tomes, trinkets, and crystal balls to shake in his wake.
“You’ll have your payments. At your desired rates.” He relented, though he refused to acknowledge the failure in his play.
Nobles never do…
“Double.” I grinned toothily, getting back up and dusting my coat off in the process.
“Deal.”
“Wait, no. Tripl—”
“Double, with the use of my unregistered drakes.” He narrowed his eyes.
“Fine, fine. And know that I’m only agreeing because you’re calling on an old favor, dear cousin.” I responded in a sing-song cadence, moving lazily once more towards the man, only to be halted by an invisible barrier I could not penetrate even if I tried to.
A part of me grew frustrated at the… latent power disparity.
But I pushed that part of me down, knowing that any acknowledgement of frustration would merely be satisfaction to a man who deserved none.
“How fast can you get these drakes—”
“They’re fed and waiting. I also have a team of greater drakes to expedite your company’s travels. You’ll find your crown warrants and a few extra gifts within your passenger compartment.” He spoke curtly, preempting every one of my questions. “That will be all.” He spoke flatly before shooing me with an underhanded swipe of his wrist.
I knew I shouldn’t have cared.
I understood, logically, that I shouldn’t have been bothered.
Indeed, not a single expression nor subsequent inflection would betray the indignity that the seemingly benign parting sentiment had inflicted.
But it still burned all the same.
He was treating me as if I were lesser. When just moments ago, there was a glimmer, as faint as it was that he was—
I stopped myself.
I couldn’t let those thoughts take over.
You said it yourself. You’ve gotten over the… departure. Don’t let it get to your head. Don’t let it get to—
“I said, that will be all, Ignalius.” He reiterated, cutting through the turmoil of my thoughts like a searchlight through fog. “Or was there something else?”
I let out a sigh and straightened up as I once more put on that flippant front. “Just one question.”
“Out with it then.”
“I’m certain we’re not the first to be sent after this dragon.”
“No, you are not.”
“In that case, do you have any preferences as to how we deal with potential interlopers, m’lord?” I spoke derisively, accentuating the faux-politeness that worked to irritate the wayward Skylord.
“There should be no other Crown-warrant adventurers or mercenary companies within the forests at this point, and there’s a blanket ban over travel into said forests as well. Thus, I shall leave the fate of any interlopers you encounter up to your discretion.”
He concluded curtly and, as always, chose to end the conversation in the most insulting way possible: by turning his back on me.
I held my breath, biting down on the snarl clawing its way up my throat, forcing it into the smallest twitch at the corner of my mouth, and turning what remained into the faintest quiver of my fingers. Nothing more.
Then I left. Without a single word more being spoken.
But instead of relief biting away at my shame with each step forward, I instead felt the rushing of boiling blood and the pounding of my temples that only intensified with every stomp of my foot.
I tried focusing on my wins and the objective gains I garnered from that interaction.
But it was all overshadowed by what could not be changed and the reminder of such by those simple, innocuous cues that gnawed at me to no end.
This eventually came to a head as I stopped just short of the doors to the courtyard, my gaze now landing on the diminutive squire maintaining sentry at its side.
“Ah, m’lord! Might you by chance be—”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
“—Mercenary Captain—”
Quit while you’re ahead if you know what’s best for you.
“—Ignalius—”
Just stop there—
“—Av-Lisinius?”
…
I took a deep breath.
And try as I might, in spite of its earnestness and innocence, I could not find the mental wherewithal to tolerate another slight. As my name, and its associated shame, rolled effortlessly off his tongue.
“Why yes,” I responded with a smile, just enough to be polite but sharp enough to cut. “I am.”
“I’ve been informed of your departure. Please, allow me!” He reached for the handle, only to stop as I cleared my throat.
“No.”
His eyes grew wide as he saw my shadow towering over him.
Then he turned. At which point I caught him with a glance. A cold, commanding, unrelenting glare that snatched his gaze like a hawk to a hare.
“That won’t do, my boy,” I lilted, honey over hot coals. “Please, allow a fellow peer the right.”
He faltered. His little claws twitched by his side as his eyes darted, uncertain, fearful.
I stepped closer. Close enough to feel his breath stutter.
And with neither warning nor flourishes, I lifted a hand.
Airburst.
The double doors slammed outward on a gust that rattled its hinges, scattered the dust, and sent both kobold and detritus stumbling out and into the courtyard.
All eyes quickly turned to me, both mercenary and regular.
However, I could care little for their attention. I brushed past the boy, my smile never breaking. “There! Isn’t that better?”
And though I did not look back, I savored the silence he left in my wake.
=====
The Nexus. Somewhere just off the Royal Road of Transgracia. En Route to the North Rythian Forests. Local Time: 2000 Hours.
Emma
“Ahh…” I let out a huge sigh, standing proudly with two open palms clasping my hips, watching as our little campfire roared against the absolute darkness of the Outlands wilderness. “That’s the good stuff right there.”
“Heh. Not a lot of outdoor activities back on Earthrealm, Emma?”
“Nono, it’s just… gosh, it’s moments like these that make this whole thing worth it.”
“‘Whole thing’ as in life in general? Or ‘whole thing’ as in the flower quest?” Thalmin inquired with an amused chuckle, the prince having since laid down next to his pile of stuff, using much of his baggage as an impromptu recliner to lean against.
“This mission, Thalmin.” I promptly answered. “Or rather, my mission. Despite the ups and downs, moments where we can actually stop to reflect just hits different, you know?”
“I suppose.” Thalmin shrugged. “Though that does bring up a compelling topic.”
“Oh? Do tell.” I urged, setting myself next to the lupinor and promptly locking half of my armor, allowing me to lean against the half-recline of the armor deep within its confines.
“What made you join?”
“I’m sorry?”
“What made you choose to take on this quest, this mission, to willingly become the Candidate of Earthrealm?”
“Huh.” Was my immediate response. “I could’ve sworn I addressed that at one point or another…”
“Those were my thoughts as well, Emma.” Thalmin concurred. “But upon some heavy recollection, it’s just come to my attention that in spite of all of our conversations, we’ve yet to touch on some of the most fundamental. Although one could argue that the more fundamental a question, the greater the likelihood it becomes personal, but I digress. I’m surprised that in spite of your propensity for endless talking, that fundamentals such as these have been overlooked.”
“Yeah.” I acknowledged, my eyes attempting to meet those of the tired prince’s. “Yeah, you do have a point.”
“So you admit you’re a yapper.” Thalmin chided.
“I never said I wasn’t.” I took that jab in stride, simply rolling with the punches as they came. “But in any case, yeah. I’ve sort of overlooked that, haven't I?” I admitted before letting out a long sigh. “I… think my answer is probably going to be underwhelming.”
Thalmin cocked his head, silently urging me to continue.
“Well… I was basically approached with the offer of joining a super secret program. And once the contents of said program were revealed to me? It was a no-brainer.” I shrugged.
This elicited yet another tilt from Thalmin, his head cocking to the right this time around with his perky ears snapping accordingly.
“And were your people forthright with your arrangements? Living and otherwise?”
“Yeah. They were.” I nodded.
“Including your limited living quarters, the abysmal quality of life, the loss of the ability to live like a normal decent being, in addition to being trapped in that armor potentially without a tent and all of its vital amenities—”
“You really don’t have to spell it out like that, Thalmin.” I interjected with a nervous chuckle. “I’m already really, really trying not to think about the long-term living arrangements in the armor.”
“And yet you agreed to it.” Thalmin drilled further, his tone drenched in disbelief. “Losing a life that… from what you’ve purported, rivals that of merchants and nobility?”
“Yeah. And before you go any further, yes, I was also very much plainly aware of the dangers associated with it too. Including the potential risk of liquefaction on arrival.”
The prince took a moment to regard that response, as if analyzing it for all it was worth.
“And that risk didn’t at all… unsettle you?”
“Of course it did.” I acknowledged. “Hell, I doubt they’d okay my psych eval if I said I was emotionless and fearless even at the potential for death.”
“So why then?” Thalmin pressed earnestly. “Why risk certain death? Moreover, what made this a… as you say, ‘no brainer?’”
“The human condition.” I laid it out flatly. “Or more specifically, the complexity of the human condition as it applies to me, personally.” I clarified, taking a moment to set the stage with a large and uninterrupted breath. “I’ve always been infatuated with the greats, Thalmin. The great firsts, the pioneers, the Yuri Gagarins and Neil Armstrongs. The Janet Lis and the Sam O’Neills. The Jebediah Hermans and the Jackie Setantas. The call of the void and the potential to be the first… it’s as alluring as the desire to see what’s over that next hill or what’s behind that next star.” I rambled before realizing the confusion growing on Thalmin’s face.
“You remember the explosions that carried our first man to space, right?”
“The one with the chair or the one that succeeded?” Thalmin asked, making me tilt my head down, amused and unamused at the same time.
“Second one. And after which came the longer, more arduous journey through the deadly and empty void.”
“I think I'm starting to see where you’re going with this.” He acknowledged.
“My people have always yearned to go where they’re never supposed to. To poke our noses and peek around corners that would otherwise be physically impossible without a heck of a lot of effort. From the sky to space to the ongoing final frontier, it’s in our nature to just go.”
“Just as much as it is for much of your kind to remain and support said endeavor.” Thalmin noted.
“Yeah.” I nodded with a smile. “That’s the beauty of it. The rest of humanity in general isn’t as insane as I am. And that’s also very much valid under the human condition. We all have our own adventures. I just so happen to be one of the crazy ones willing to risk life and limb, and a whole lot of modern comforts just to see what’s on the other side of the veil.” I paused before taking a moment to grab the lupinor by the shoulder. “And in spite of the existential nightmares, the attempts on life and property, and conspiracies that’d make a political thriller writer blush, I’d say it’s been worth it. If only to be able to be here, talking to other people, of an entirely different species like you, Thalmin.”
I didn’t realize how sappy and corny my tone of voice had become before I saw Thalmin reacting with a wide smile of his own.
“Ancestors, Emma, the way you phrase it makes it seem like I might have to re-evaluate your stated lack of interest in my suitability as a—”
“Don’t push it, Thalmin.” I interjected with a playful punt on his shoulder. “What I mean to say is this — it’s just… incredible to finally be talking, interacting, and actually bonding with… well…”
“Another species, you said.” Thalmin clarified with a bemused expression, his eyes betraying the thoughts stirring behind them. “In all your travels through the multitude of realms in your… empty abyss. I’d have assumed that you’d have encountered at least something resembling a tribe or perhaps even a village or two?”
There it was.
Another prime reminder of Fundamental Systemic Incongruity.
“No.” I responded plainly. “We haven’t found cities, villages, or even tribes, Thalmin. Heck, we haven’t even found anything resembling a thriving ecosystem as you’d recognize it, let alone a single macroscopic plant or animal.”
“What?”
“In the millennium we’ve been in space, across all the multitudes of planets we’ve surveyed, the most exciting thing we’ve found has been ponds harboring invisible life. Life on the scale of the Ure.”
Thalmin’s features shifted at that, his eyes running through everything before something dawned deep within him.
“So your kind have existed, alone, and with the knowledge that you are the only sapient beings to inhabit what you long understood to be your one and only reality?” He reasoned, forming that sentence as a sort of half question, as if needing to reaffirm that realization.
“Yes.” I answered succinctly.
The prince went silent for a moment, his eyes watching the mesmerizing dance of the campfire’s flames, before craning his head up to the starless skies above.
“I would argue that it isn’t a lonely existence, just by virtue of the peace and civil company of your own kin. But… on an existential level… to understand that you and you alone are the shepherds of sapiency? To fathom such a burden is quite…” Thalmin trailed off, as if struggling to find the words to describe the turmoil welling within. “... difficult.” He spoke sincerely and with a profoundness that gave him pause. “At least for me.” He quickly added.
“Yeah. You’ve hit the nail on the head, Thalmin.” I spoke solemnly.
“You and the Nexus are oh so alike, yet different in your fates.” Thalmin continued. “Both with the capacity to pierce through the veil, both with the willingness to peer into it, into new worlds pristine and untouched. Yet while one is consistently rewarded for their efforts in verdant paradises and rich cultures, the other is faced with a compounding existential dread, a confirmation that there truly is only darkness in the abyss.”
“Which is why we never gave up.” I quickly added. “Because we refused to take that for a fact until we’ve visited each and every world, even if it takes us a thousand years more, or even if it means we might yet again need to redefine the light speed barrier.”
Thalmin nodded slowly, his eyes slowly glancing over to the flame with poise. “I can understand your lack of hesitation now, Emma. And I respect it.”
“Thanks, Thalmin.”
A moment of silence dawned on us as Thalmin moved forward, poking and prodding at something boiling in a pot over the fire.
“So. I guess it’s your turn then, hmm?” I offered.
“It would only be fair, yes.” The prince acknowledged as he settled himself comfortably against his makeshift backrest. “I chose to come, for I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else taking the mantle of the Nexian Sacrifice.” He began ominously. “I am not a man who deludes himself in the prestige that comes with birthright, but instead, I willingly carry the burdens that are demanded of said birthright. Because unlike most of our peers, I do not see myself for more than what I am.”
“And that is?”
“The runt of the litter.” He snickered in self-deprecating humor. “The last in line for the throne. My role has always been to lift up the fates of my elder siblings. To help ease their burdens so as to allow for a seamless transition when the time comes. I am not destined for greatness, but what I am destined for is to facilitate the greatness of my Kingdom.” He spoke proudly, puffing his chest as he did so. “And after battle, after battle, after battle, the time came for me to make the ultimate choice… not that there was a choice to be made in the first place.” He chuckled darkly. “To commit to one more battle that I understood could very well be my final one.”
Silence once more descended on us, as I felt inclined to allow Thalmin to continue at his own pace.
“My siblings all deserve the throne far more than I. And even those not expected to take said throne all play a much more vital role in supporting it. I am neither a statesman nor a strategist. Neither bookkeeper nor tradesman. What I know best is survival, magic, combat, and perhaps a bit of diplomacy here and there.” He shrugged. “To put it simply, Emma. I chose this, for there was no one else to take the mantle.”
I pondered Thalmin’s words. Realizing now just how different our approaches to the same ends were.
“I know you have questions, so go on. Don’t be shy.” Thalmin urged.
“Well… I guess I just have to ask. Why’d you have to come? I thought other realms also sent more minor nobles, not royalty.”
“Double standards.” Thalmin replied instinctively. “With some unspoken expectations. It’s typically seen as a sign of… greater fealty—” He shuddered at the word. “—to send those of higher stations from a realm to the Nexus. I think you might recall this yourself on orientation day, no? When students were perplexed by your Cadet status?”
“Yeah, I get that.” I nodded. “I’m guessing… that because of Havenbrock’s rocky relationship with the Nexus given your recent switchup of ruling families, that it’s sort of necessary to send members of the royal family to keep up with their demands?”
“Precisely.” Thalmin nodded. “Moreover, it’s also a matter of assurance and security.” He added, prompting me to cock my head. “You see, we cannot explicitly trust anyone to take this role for us. As it is highly likely that the Nexus would sway any Havenbrockian noble to their side, once sequestered here away from Havenbrock.”
“Oh.” I blinked rapidly. “Okay yeah, that… that actually makes a ton of sense. So… you really did have no choice.”
“If I were to keep my honor, my integrity, and my duty alive? Of course not. But the act of choosing said values over my own life is still a choice all the same.” He paused before slowly letting a smile form at the edges of his face. “But it is not all doom and gloom, Emma. For within this twisted realm of backstabbing and duplicity, I’ve found someone worthy of calling a comrade in arms.” He spoke confidently as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
“The sentiment goes both ways, friend.” I reaffirmed, returning the gesture in kind.
=====
???
???
BZRRRRRT!
In the lightning went, the surge of elemental power nudging the poor little thing away from its eternal slumber.
I tapped at its metal shell, flicking it, spinning its little pinwheels, urging it to speak.
pulse. pulse. pulse.
There it was again. That rehearsed call. These desperate cries for aid.
BZRRRRRT!
Pulse. Pulse. Pulse.
There, there, little one. There, there. I urged, soothing it despite it meaning nothing to this mindless construct.
BZRRRRRT!
PULSE. PULSE. PULSE.
Your mother will be here soon.
Comments
Kerradeph
Yeah, I was curious about that one too. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.
Frayo
Or the headmaster found the drone left in his office... Or the goldthorn captain found it one of the broken ones in Elaseer during her investigation. Honestly, there are a few people who could have a drone; Emma needs to be more careful with them.
Thunder
It's curious they have the phrase 'blood is thicker than water' also curious they are misquoting it in the same fashion we do.
Gus N
Oh man that last scene! I'm gonna guess that it's the amethyst dragon talking to one of Emma's lost drones.
