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Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (146/?) Revised Version 1
🕑 Added 2025-09-27 22:27:12 +0000 UTCAuthor’s Note: Hey everyone! There’s been some pretty big revisions in this one so I do suggest you guys give this chapter another read through! :D First of all, the biggest edit was the removal of the quest scammer at the tavern. That whole scene was honestly supposed to be a throwback to the funny sort of subversion of expectations when it comes to random sidequests taking questers off course, by having Emma and Thalmin turn the guy down and then moving on. However, it didn’t really turn out as well as I’d hoped upon multiple re-readings, and so I decided to just trim that out to help with the pacing and cohesion of this chapter! :D I also had a cool idea planned for some other person on the Quest for the Everblooming Blossom to actually take the guy up on his offer, to sort of serve as a payoff for that whole thing, but again, I feel like that might not be worth the setup XD So yeah! Aside from that, I also edited the intro in order to be a bit clearer! And I’ve also edited and added a few bits in the chapter to improve the vibes and flow of it! :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 County Township of Telaseer. Local Transportium Junction. The Hall of Ingress. Local Time: 1305 Hours.
Emma
A single step forward. That was all it took for the world to turn upside down.
Whereas the portal connecting the Academy to Elaseer was instantaneous and more ‘door-like’ with a single step seamlessly linking two points in space, the transportium instead had a noticeable gap — a tangible space between the two gates that broke that seamless connection.
But that wasn’t the only thing it broke, as both my perception and the EVI’s sensors, were abruptly pushed to the breaking point.
We crossed what I could only describe as a threshold, one that sat in an unfathomable darkness between two flat openings in space.
We were… compressed, impossibly so, as behind us stood Sips, and in front of us was Telaseer; both worlds were framed like a painting that stretched on in all axes but depth.
Yet it was in this ‘in-between’ that physics, as I understood it, just seemingly gave up, as despite us currently crossing what felt like two-dimensional space, there existed an infinite abyss beyond the frame of the two bright worlds we were sandwiched between.
This… was outright dread-inducing, as both agoraphobia and claustrophobia threatened to crush me from both sides.
The same sense of primal fear that came with my first untethered space EVA hit me.
Yet at the same time, that fear of drifting into the infinite darkness both above and below us was tempered by the abruptness of it all.
Because according to the EVI, the whole… transit — if you could even call it that — took just a handful of seconds.
2.23 seconds, to be precise… to travel what was ostensibly a greater distance than that of our entire journey by conventional means thus far.
I would say this was beyond humanity’s capabilities.
But the warp drive made that point completely and utterly moot.
Still…
This method of travel negated distances.
Whilst warp quite literally propelled you — and the composalite, cargo, weapons, and furniture around you — faster than light.
It was unfair to really compare the two.
The Nexians, as magic seemed to naturally encourage, simply cheated.
Or more fairly, they simply took the path of least resistance available to them.
Humanity, on the other hand, once again brute-forced our way to achieving more of the same… with the added bonus of the industry and infrastructure that sprang up to both allow for and maintain such a dedicated intersolar apparatus.
“Two sides of a very different coin…” I mumbled to myself, not realizing how dumb that analogy sounded until I heard it vocalized.
“You doing alright there, Emma?” Thalmin asked, as he somehow managed to order the kelpie to gently nudge me on the shoulder.
“Yeah! Yeah. I’m just…”
“Not used to transportium travel?” Thalmin chuckled boisterously.
“I can’t say I am, no.” I responded with a dry snicker.
“Don’t worry, you’re in the same boat.” He spoke reassuringly.
“As you?”
“Ancestors, no! I was actually referring to them.” Thalmin’s smile quickly turned mischievous before pointing at more than a handful of elves, satyrs, baxi, kobolds, and dwarves currently leaning, facing, or outright collapsed next to a brick and plaster wall — all in varying states of sickness and nausea.
Behind them were carts upon carts of tarped-over wagons, livestock, and just about every type of produce one could imagine.
I narrowed my eyes at the scene, cocking my head as I completely forgot about Thalmin’s jab and focused more on the sickroom next to us along with its implications.
“Sorry if that was a bit of a low jab, Emma.” Thalmin suddenly interrupted, moving to clear his throat with one hand, using the other to rub the back of his neck.
“What? No, I was just thinking.”
“About?” The wolf cocked his head.
“Why they all seem to be so sick… and in fact, why there’s a whole dedicated side room for…” I narrowed my eyes, as the EVI was quick to zoom onto a sign written in common, which was promptly translated to a questionable degree of accuracy. “... Near-Death Experience?” I read the translated text word by questionable word, cocking my head at Thalmin as I did so.
This was enough to get the prince to very nearly lose it, as his eyes lit up and his hands went to stifle what would have been a catastrophic laugh, especially out in public.
“That’s… that’s a very literal way of putting it, Emma. Your command of High Nexian never ceases to amaze.” He shook his head, calming down, before finally addressing the elephant in the room. “It’s simple, really. They’re weakfielders.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “I think we touched on this a long while back, but commoners tend to be more susceptible to mana sickness when there’s a sudden and significant surge in latent mana. The transportium, despite being a near-instantaneous realm of traversal, is one such environment that qualifies as such. This is why even the most seasoned of couriers will still require the services of the—” The prince paused to quickly shake his head, stifling another laugh. “—Near Death Room.”
“Right.” I acknowledged, just as two elves in plate armor approached us.
“My lord. My lady.” The lead elf addressed us curtly, bowing ever so slightly in the process. “We have been informed of your arrival. However, this is where our courtesy ends.” He continued ominously, before gesturing behind us. “I would humbly request that your lordships move forward, for a queue is quickly forming.”
The rearview cameras quickly popped in to show a veritable backlog of carts and wagons already piling up behind us, prompting us to move along swiftly with a whirr and a clop.
However, I couldn’t help but to wonder exactly where the glut of traffic came from, especially given that there was nobody else waiting to use the transportium on Sips’ side of the—
Then it hit me.
This portal probably didn’t just service Sips.
If the continuously arriving carts were any indication, the framed portal behind us — and indeed other similar ones to the left and right of it — was more than likely coming from all across the kingdom.
The sheer logistics of this whole operation lit a fire in the furnace of my lore-obsessed heart, as I started to finally take note of every detail of this place.
This particular ‘transportium junction’ wasn’t at all the small and rather quaint terminal building we’d just entered from Sips, where passenger and cargo alike cohabited a cross between a warehouse and a depressing pre-22nd century bus depot.
No.
Instead… what we found ourselves in was a masterfully crafted work of wrought iron and steel, framed by brick and plaster walls and, most impressively, capped by a glass roof held aloft by said iron framing.
But where Sips’ structures would’ve saved a gold coin here and there by streamlining design choices and keeping things simple, Telaseer seemed to do the exact opposite, finding it necessary to add flourishes every chance they got. From the volutes and flower motifs that capped the ends of every support beam, to the scrollwork that shielded the bottom and tops of each pillar, to even iron tendrils and vines that seemed etched into the very glass it was holding aloft; the message here was clear.
The terminal, as was the case with many terminals on any self-respecting station back home, was an attempt to make a good first impression.
It was a blatant display of culture… or simply wealth in the case of the Nexus.
What’s more, the sheer number of copper-framed portals compared to the measly pair at Sips was a good enough indicator as to where Telaseer stood in terms of its economic potential.
Though given the lack of any gold filigree, it was clear they probably weren’t on Elaseer’s level just yet.
“To all pass-bearers, appointees, and privileged persons: Please direct yourselves to the Gilded Ingress.” A voice abruptly blared through the cavernous halls, as several attendants dressed in what I could only describe as a cross between Victorian butler-wear and 18th-century stagecoach attendants ushered the few ‘privileged’ travelers towards a largely empty path.
“Come on, Emma, let’s get moving.” Thalmin urged as I followed him silently towards our ‘privileged’ path.
Despite the grandiose space the terminal took up, it was clear that it wasn’t just for show… as was often the case at the Academy.
Because here? The massive open concourses and wide halls actually served a purpose — commerce.
Though I guess you could argue the egos of Academy students necessitated just as much, if not more, space than carts, wagons, and buggies.
Speaking of which…
Cart after cart passed us by, falling into their own neat little lanes demarcated not just by traffic lines but by grooves carved into the tile and stone floors of the place.
Three such grooves existed in the same lane, allowing for three ‘axle gauges’ to cohabit the same track towards the cargo checkpoint ahead.
That little detail, while easily overlooked, conveyed so much in just one neat package, communicating to those observant of the Nexus’ abilities for standardization on a truly universal level.
Whilst not as strikingly impressive as the portals or the transportium itself, what it alluded to was just as important, if not arguably more important — administrative planning, political will, and the organizational capital and competence required to carry out said will.
“It’s one thing to have portals and impressive features en masse.” I began softly, garnering Thalmin’s attention with a flick and a tilt of his perky triangular ears. “Those are one-off wonders, the tools to get the job done. It’s another thing entirely to be able to create the boring systems capable of utilizing said tools towards grand and consistent ends.” I continued, pointing out the tracks and carts to Thalmin. “A simple idea. Deceptively basic, honestly. But when applied to something as large, diverse, and packed with an impossible amount of variable factors as the Nexus? It’s nothing short of impressive. Standardization, especially on such a universal scale, is a hallmark of administrative competence.”
“The Nexus is nothing if not competent, Emma.” Thalmin conceded with a heavy breath. “You can be the most powerful mage in all of the realms, you can become the greatest conqueror known to history, but none of these achievements matter if you lack the pen-bearers, paper-pushers, and the foresight to consolidate your gains. To turn raw power and potential into something that truly lasts.” The prince took a moment to crane his head upwards, letting out a sigh in the process. “The Nexus may have an excess of ego and flawed nobility. But for every layabout lord, there exists a prudent prince.”
“Lord L’Sips proves as much, I guess.” I admitted, garnering a nod from Thalmin.
“But I do have hope.” Thalmin suddenly uttered, a privacy screen forming shortly thereafter. “If Earthrealm’s candidate finds this to be noteworthy and resists the temptation to be enamored by the portals and the transportium network itself, then I do believe there exists an equally competent polity by virtue of your interests.”
“Heh, the same can be said about Havenbrock’s current ruling family.” I added. “Overthrowing an incompetent regime that couldn’t even perform the most basic functions of the state — paying your army — and actually being able to maintain a state on what I assume was a terrifying deficit… now that’s statesmanship that should be lauded in its own right.”
That little compliment definitely took Thalmin off guard, as he snickered and raised both arms proudly behind his head. “I guess my Prime did have a knack for competent rule, yes.” He spoke boisterously.
“Well, you’ll have to tell me more then.” I urged, but stopped just as we reached the exit counter.
“Papers, please.” The satyr attendant spoke politely, as we responded in kind to her request.
The exchange of Chiska’s field trip travel papers and a cursory glance at our vehicles were all that were needed before we were let through.
Not even a baggage check was done as we emerged through a set of stained glass double doors and into the wider world.
However, what hit us first wouldn’t be the grandeur of the town nor the impressive scale of the buildings around us.
Instead, it was what could only be described as a massive roadblock worth of vehicles. All of which were lined up bumper to fender, or in this case… horse to… cart? They stretched all along the main cargo ‘egress’ of the terminal, causing a traffic bottleneck of apocalyptic proportions.
However, that was only one side of the story.
The second would be the massive cart-spanning banners depicting wheat and flour, all with prices, offers, and what could only be described as an egregious amount of slang that all translated poorly, or outright vulgarly, if the EVI was to be trusted.
The third and probably most obnoxious thing about this, however, was the ear-splitting whistles, honks, yells, and screams of those standing atop these carts. All of which confirmed my suspicions of exactly what this was.
“FORTIS’ MILLERS! DEPOSIT YOUR GRAIN AT FORTIS’ MILLERS! WE OFFER 20 TIMES THE ASKING PRICE OF THE NEXT MILLER! JUST A TWO-WEEK WAIT FOR PAYOUT ON MILLING!” A red-and-yellow-tunic-wearing elf yelled out at the top of his lungs, only to be beaten in sheer volume by a dwarf right next to him.
“ESIL’S MILLING HOUSE! WE BUY ALL GRAIN! CORN! WHEAT! WHEAT-CORN! ONE SILVER FOR A BALE-LOAD! TWO SILVERS FOR A PROMISSORY TOKEN!”
Though even that would pale in comparison to what came next, as a kobold dressed in what could only be described as a cross between jester, clown, and car-salesman attire stood up proudly atop a dedicated crow’s nest on his cart.
“FORGET THE COMPETITION! HAVE DEBTS YOU NEED PAID? TAXES YOU HAVE OWED? FAMILY THAT WILL BE WHISKED INTO THE NIGHT IF YOU DON’T MAKE PAYMENTS NOW, NOW, NOW?! WELL COME ON DOWN TO TEVER’S MILLING HOUSE! WE DON’T JUST SIGN PROMISORIES…” The Kobold paused, gesturing to his satyr and dwarven helpers to haul sackfuls of coin. The likes of which caused the cart to tilt forward. “... WE PAY IN COIN UPON PURCHASE!”
All of these… advertisements clearly worked on the still-nauseous farmers that plodded out through the egress doors, as some seemed swayed by the promises of the elf’s trustworthy offer… but most were quite predictably crowding around the red kobold’s cart as a result of his boisterous promises.
The wider trade dynamics of the Nexus, at least as it pertained to the outlands, started to become clear to me here, as the winds of commerce and trade blew hard against the predictable chokepoints by which trade flowed.
“Huh.” Was all I could say before we were stopped by tradesfolk of a different sort.
“Your Highnesses, your Majesties! Oh, by His Eternal Will, it is fate by which we were destined to meet! Please, we have the finest accommodations in all—” A finely dressed elf offered but was just as quickly pushed aside by another.
“Your Highnesses, please! Allow me to—”
“No, thank you.” Thalmin responded with a dulcet growl, completely taking the small crowd by surprise as they made way for us without a single word more.
The kelpie’s death glare probably had a few things to do with that, though…
Regardless, it was only when we broke free of the hotel offers, tour guides, souvenir peddlers, and knick-knack salesfolk that we finally made it out of the transport hub and into downtown proper.
It was here that we were met with something genuinely missing from both of Elaseer’s districts, commoner and ambassadorial — scale.
Elaseer was, quite obviously, a sort of college town. Its size, while perhaps impressive by Sips’ standards, was quite honestly lacking.
Telaseer, by contrast, was what I’d expected of Elaseer upon first hearing of it.
There were four wide boulevards, each with three lanes divided in half by planters and streetlights. These roads of magical concrete and asphalt all led the way to a massive circular roundabout, which in itself encircled a town square and the city’s centerpiece — an obelisk soaring about as high as the Washington Monument. Atop of it was a sort of beacon, one that pulsated and glowed, drawing all sorts of stone golems to circle it.
Moreover, it was here in the wide-open avenues that we were able to finally see the skies proper.
At which point, I couldn’t help but to be quite intrigued at what I saw.
I’d assumed they were just flocks of birds at first. However, upon closer view courtesy of the EVI’s sensors, I saw them for what they were — drakes.
Mounted drakes to be precise, each of which was decked in armor and other magical gear, as well as what appeared to be some sort of… magical weapons, complements, or at least cargo, strapped to the underside near the base of their wings.
These drake riders were kitted with plate armor that seemed to glow against the afternoon sun, complete with decorative wings that fluttered against the wind as they ducked and weaved in patterns that not a single citizen down below seemed to pay any mind to.
However, the presence of these riders was promptly explained by the litany of public notices and posters scattered around storefronts, billboards, and public noticeboards.
Though these too were supplemented by the presence of what could only be described as town criers, many of whom stood atop plinths, concentrated most prominently in the town square that we just so happened to be passing through.
“In keeping with the promises of the Crown to all of its subjects, the Privy Council has dispatched Sky Wardens of the Skyward Spire Upon Ethalsyd to patrol the town’s perimeter! There shall be no incursions from the likes of the fabled amethyst dragon, and rest assured, our lords are more than capable of downing a measly sundered beast.” The rotund crier bellowed out loudly, just as one of his two attendants reached for another scroll, unfurling it for their boss to read. “Hear ye, hear ye! Today's public bread has been graciously provided by the bountiful surplus of the brotherhood of millers under Baron Qarth L'Sips… The brotherhood of millers uses only the finest grain. True Nexian bread for true Nexians."
I couldn’t help but blink curiously at that last announcement but just as quickly moved on from the town square and onto another boulevard leading straight to the town’s exit.
Along the way, we encountered more evidence of the town’s impressive prosperity, from its bustling streets to its dense yet well-kept buildings. However, as we reached the halfway point out of town, we fast-approached a construct that would come to dominate the local skyline.
It was a stadium. Or more accurately, an amphitheater giving off some massive Colosseum vibes.
The ovoid structure rose high above the four-story midrises in this district of the city, its shadow casting upon much of the boulevard, even at a fairly respectable distance.
Indeed, the placement of the structure didn’t seem to be random, as the boulevard purposefully veered towards one of its grand entrances, even going so far as to route much of its path along one of the oval structure’s sides.
It was here that passersby were able to glance at not only the posters on display but also the impressive floor-to-ceiling glass outcropping featuring ample views into what signs referred to as the Hall of Heroes.
This proved to be the sight of an unexpected reunion, as the both of us came to an abrupt stop simultaneously, our eyes meeting with the very person who sent us out on this quest.
Or at least, a stone and marble facsimile of her.
Quickly dismounting, we approached the glass outcropping, putting our faces close against it to confirm if this truly was who we thought it was.
The nameplate at the bottom of the statue’s plinth was enough to dispel any and all doubts, however, as Thalmin turned towards me with an amused expression.
“Lady Chiska Malamont — The Hero of Hervahale, Grand Champion of the Drake Rider’s Table of Transgracia, Honorary Sky Warden, and Grand Master of the Drake Rider’s Hunting Club. Victor of the Telaseer Drake Riding Championship for 20 Consecutive Years.” Thalmin read out before stopping as the next part of the text was just too small from where we stood.
The EVI made short work of it, however, as I quickly read it out.
“Quote: It got boring after the first 10 years.”
We both turned to one another after that, each of us cracking a smile and shrugging in unison.
“What a legend.” We both spoke simultaneously, resulting in a uniform chuckle between us.
“Out of all of the professors… I think Professor Chiska’s the only one to really deserve our respect.” Thalmin offered.
“Along with Sorecar, of course.” I immediately added.
“I stand corrected. But you know what I meant.” He acknowledged, before promptly returning to the kelpie.
A few curious onlookers had finally gathered around our respective conveyances by that point, though many seemed to be more interested in the V4c than the kelpie… and probably for good reason. The beast looked about ready to tear into the bystanders at the slightest hint of provocation.
The crowd quickly scattered as we arrived; however, a few children were brave enough to remain, each of them addressing me with their own little questions.
“What’s that?” A small elf questioned, pointing at the GUN emblem Sorecar had taken the liberty of personally forging for the front of the motorcycle. “Is that a family crest?”
“Are you an adjacent realmer?” A three-foot-tall mannequin spoke out, and a very painted one at that; a greater slime child, I figured.
A grey-furred baxi kid had the nonchalant sense to run a pointed claw on the leg of my suit, squinting at the lack of any scratch made. “Why are you wearing weird armor?”
I took a moment to crouch down to their level, garnering several quizzical looks from parents and bystanders alike.
“That—” I pointed to the emblem. “—is my realm’s emblem. And yes, I am an adjacent realmer. And as for why I’m wearing ‘weird armor,’ well… I guess you could say it’s a knightly vow of sorts.” I explained jovially, garnering a series of ‘oohhs’ and ‘aahhs.’
I took that as my opportunity to get out of dodge, as Thalmin and I quickly mounted back up and began our rapid escape out of the town’s limits.
The boulevard never once narrowed even as we reached the outskirts of town, where building height and density grew increasingly more modest.
One would have expected this to result in a decrease of traffic, but that was hardly the case; carts carrying ore, produce, and a whole host of mystery boxes continued to funnel through the boulevard, keeping it relatively full in one way or another.
It took us a good half hour, but we finally made it to a tavern by the town walls.
There we took a moment to regain our bearings, the town guards regarding us with two simple nods as they both raised the gates without much fanfare.
“Are m’lords Academy students, perchance?”
“Yup! That’s us!” I acknowledged with a smile.
“To serve m’lords is to serve my own lord.” The dwarf bowed deeply. “You may pass. Although, and with no authority of my own, I must convey this notice on the behalf of my lord and the lords above him. Avoid the North Rythian forests. They are currently off-limits.” The guard warned, as the both of us nodded firmly in response.
“You got it, sir!” I beamed.
We soon made our way across the small moat encircling the town without much fanfare, hopping right back on the Royal Roads and taking the path charted for us by Sym’s adventuring troupe.
“So…” I turned to Thalmin after a good few minutes of silence. “Thankfully we seemed to have avoided all the side quests in town.” I chuckled before turning to the quest timer. “Which means we’re more or less back on schedule… since I kind of factored in the potential for time-wasting over in Telaseer.”
Thalmin nodded wordlessly at this, his focus seemingly tied once again to the Kelpie.
“So… have you thought of a name for them yet?”
“For the kelpie?”
“Yeah.” I acknowledged.
“No.”
“Do you mind if I suggest one?”
Thalmin’s eyes narrowed at this, as if waiting for some joke to drop. “Go on?”
“So you know you had Emberstride, right?”
“Yes?”
“Well I was thinking… wouldn’t it be thematic and on-brand if we went with… Aquastride?” I offered frankly.
This caused Thalmin’s features to simply stiffen into a neutral inquisitive one.
“Isn’t that… rather on the nose, Emma?”
“I mean… it just fits right? Emberstride’s fire-based, and with the Kelpie being a water-based creature… why not Aquastride?”
The lupinor went silent before letting out a long, tired sigh coupled with a dismissive laugh. “I’ll consider it, Emma. If you consider naming your bi-treader Lightningtread.”
“Why?” I shot back.
“Because that’s as silly as your own proposal for—”
“Done.”
“Wait, what—”
“Done! Lightningtread is badass, Thalmin, thanks!” I beamed. “It’s better than just calling it the V4c all the time, after all!” I beamed, before shifting confidently into a menacing grin. “But now the ball’s in your court. Are we going with Aquastride?”
Thalmin went silent at that, grumbling as he sighed and shrugged. “Give me a few more hours to decide at least… I’m not drunk enough for this.”
“Deal.”
=====
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Gardens. Local Time: 1700 Hours
Ilphius
I was angry.
But I wasn’t foolish.
Ladona was trying to use me, that slimy, squirmy insect of a noble.
Yet… I couldn’t deny that she was right in so, so many ways.
Lord Etholin was a spineless carpet of a man, and I needed to act on my own behalf if I am to seize my own destiny.
The newrealmer’s group had been living in a delusion of invincibility, enjoying the good hand fate seems to be adamant on providing for them.
Which was precisely why they needed to be reminded of their frailty.
“Ah, fancy meeting you here, Lady Airit—”
“What do you want, Lady Ilphius?” The lesser avinor sniped down any and all pretenses of polite conversation, letting her peer group’s laurels lift her up through no effort of her own.
“I simply wished to talk. To discuss the matter of a certain newrealmer—”
“Well, she’s not here, and I have no desire to act as a pawn in whatever game of subterfuge you have up your sleeves.” The shatorealmer stood firm, her eyes poised on her nails rather than my gaze.
“She might not be here, but her peers certainly are.” I jumped straight into the bait, laying it out bluntly for the lesser avinor. “A certain… greater avino—”
I felt the air around me suddenly thin, as in a matter of seconds, our gazes were locked without any semblance of civility.
“Choose your next words carefully, Lady Ilphius.” Airit seethed.
“I’m… merely proposing… an alliance of opportunity… Lady Airit.” I managed out as I subtly attempted to shoot back counterspell after counterspell to little effect. “The muscle of the group is missing, and all that remains are the two weakest links… you know this, and I wish to reiterate this just in case—”
“What? Just in case I cave and become a pawn in your games? Need I remind you, Lady Ilphius, that I am not struggling at the bottom of the peer group ladder. I have all to lose, but you have all to gain. Be grateful I am even spelling this out for your sorry soul.” She seethed, before finally letting up on whatever spell she’d cast around me.
I took in deep breaths, my eyes burning with frustration.
“Fight your own fights, or better yet, give me a proposal worth listening to.” She added dismissively, as I finally felt the air thicken once more, allowing me to properly gasp for breath. “You have a day, and no more. Now go.” She raised a wing, shooing me as she dismissed me.
Me.
Lady Ilphius of—
“You can internally monologue your defeat elsewhere. That clouded mind of yours is ruining a perfectly fine evening.”
Comments
Xylophone Smith
thalmin is going to name his water horsey aqua stride wether he wants to or not. he made a deal no excuses unless he comes up with something better. could have been murky stride like murky water because aqua stride is like if ember stride was called fire stride
Xylophone Smith
that whole fake side quest was really dumb. if someone is doing that and not getting prison time forever it would either be because he has very influential connections or is a very high rank noble or screwing over commoner adventures isn't considered a felony or something
