The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Hall of Champions. Victor’s Square. Local Time 1245 Hours.
Thalmin
There was something behind that door that drew me forwards without hesitation — a power so tempting and an aura so intoxicating that I found myself hastening my stride; my hand grasping for the handlebars with an impatient grip.
CREEEAAAKKKKK! THOOM!
I was right.
I was… more than right.
“Oh. Oh wow…” I managed out under a stuttering breath. “She… she truly is a sight to behold.” I continued, awestruck, swooped up by a wave of inexplicable infatuation.
“In all my years as a warrior, a commander, a… collector and appraiser of all matters exotic, striking, and exceptional… none could come close— nay. None can even compare with what lies before us today, Emma.” I beamed brightly, gesturing, smiling, practically pouring my heart over a sight so tantilizing… it rivalled any I’d ever laid my eyes — or hands — on.
It was in times such as these that I wished for the absence of Emma’s faceplate. As I yearned to see her expression, her first impressions of this spectacular sight.
“I have to say… I never thought you’d be drawn to something with so much heft, Thalmin.” She finally spoke, but eventually shrugged. “Not judging, of course. You’re clearly strong enough to handle it. And I’d be lying if I didn’t agree with you. She truly is quite stunning.” Emma whistled out, reaching out to grab her by the hilt, only to be swatted away by my own hands.
“Allow me to show you how it’s done…” I growled out in a playful display of dominance, reaching into the platform and grasping her thick hilt gently.
I could feel the surge of power the instant my fingertips graced the tightly-wrapped leather, the beautifully bound lace, and the ribbon at its tip. My whole body bristled with a primal sort of excitement, as my fur stood up on edge from tailtip to eartip.
I breathed in deeply, my breath unsteady, but my eyes never once lost sight of the scene in front of me.
It was almost like she was made for me.
And indeed, that was probably the intent behind this whole affair.
I grinned, eyeing the contraption beside her pedestal with a wild grin.
Then, I turned to Emma, who simply shrugged in my direction.
“So are you going to do this or not?” She urged, testing my convictions, and my physical fortitude.
“Yes.” I responded resolutely, lifting the hilt up high above my head, before finally—
Thwwoooooooooooooooshhhhhhhh!
THWACK!
DING DING DING DING DING!!!!!
“HAHA! YES! SEE?! I TOLD YOU I COULD MASTER ITS STRENGTH!”
Emma looked on with that same muted ‘expression’, though her body language spoke leagues in my favor, as she’d watched and tracked the moment the warhammer struck the base of the tower of power, sending the impossible weight higher and higher still, until finally… it struck the second highest bell.
“Impressive.” Emma nodded slowly. “Though I still don’t buy its claims.”
“What?”
“Well… forgive me if I’m just a biiiit skeptical when an artifact claims to be, and I quote: The Breaker of 40,000 Chains.” She made an effort to kneel down to the plaque next to the pedestal, one of many flanking the red carpeted entrance into the Victor’s Hall proper.
“Oh, its raw potential has most certainly been muted for purposes of interaction and display, Emma.” I chuckled. “But suffice it to say, this warhammer is truly an artifact of legend; I have read as such in my forays into the subject! Some scholars even say that in the right hands, it has the power to crack open whole continents. And some would even claim that its title — the breaker of 40,000 chains — carries more weight than it does bluster.”
“In the words of many of my superiors and professors back home: citation desperately needed.” The earthrealmer countered, garnering but a dismissive chuckle from me.
“I accept your challenge.” I grinned back cheekily, garnering a cock of Emma’s armored head. “Consider it an exchange of records. Your presentation on earthrealm weaponry, for a sight-seer documenting the fullest potential of these legendary weapons!”
“That… is certainly a fair trade. I accept the amended conditions.” Emma nodded, prompting me to quickly drag her to the next artifact on display.
“Then let us make haste! The professors have provided us with a veritable feast of artifacts with which to admire and test! Had I been informed earlier, I would have absconded breakfast, lunch, and even that debriefing just to have more time with all of these incredible feats of artificing!” I found myself speaking at an increasing pace, effortlessly taking the mantle of Emma’s overexcitable orations, as I raced around what amounted to a museum’s worth of wonders; a curated series of displays clustered around the entrance of the Victor’s Corner.
I practically darted from pedestal to pedestal, plinth to plinth, my eyes only momentarily taking into account the rest of the room’s inhabitants in between each excitable sprint. They barely registered in the grand scheme of things, paling in comparison to the great manny artifacts belonging to either former questors, or brought back as spoils from the wilds.
I sprinted immediately towards the next weapon on display, my gaze bouncing between the legendary article in question, and the inextricably linked shooting gallery next to it; just begging to be used.
“A bow?” Emma questioned unenthusiastically.
“Not just any mere bow.” I countered, pointing at the plaque beneath the plinth. “This — admittedly tempered artifact — hails from a particularly fascinating lineage of weapons known as the HeartWroughts. Unlike most artificed or enchanted weapons, they draw both power and potential not from latent manastreams or internal manavials, but instead, through the wielder themselves. But Thalmin, I hear you ask, why and how is this any different from the casting of a spell? Is this not simply a roundabout means of spellcasting? Why… yes, it is. But not quite. For you see, the enchantments within merely interpret the state of your aura, your emotional potential, and thereby through carefully inlaid filigrees, chiseled, cast, and spun within the heart of the weapon, simply uses your aura as a siphon; powering its own attacks through the will of the user.” I rattled on, going through what should have been fundamental principles, but to most — and especially Emma — probably resembled the bookish esotericisms of a hermit scholar.
“Fascinating.” Emma replied politely, as I felt at that moment, a complete reversal of roles spurred on by the presence of articles of renown I’d only seen through the pages of a sight-seer. “Let’s see it then.” She continued, turning to me with an expectant cock of her hip. “Try it.”
=====
Cynthis
…
A warhammer?
And a bejeweled bow?!
That’s what he was immediately drawn to?!!
THAT’S what he leaped to, along with his… mutinous partner?!
No.
No no.
Calm down, Lady Cynthis.
He is a simple man after all.
An exquisite specimen by all measures, yes.
But simple-mindedness truly does overrule all measures of his roguish and princely aura.
My smile returned, as a barely perceptible breath left my lips.
Yes. This is a good sign. If the lupinor truly is that simple-minded, then he will be as clay is to a seasoned potter. This is excellent. This is ideal. This will come into play when the vows are exchanged and our hands are crossed in eternal matrimony.
But I couldn’t wait any longer.
There comes a time where patience becomes inaction, and that time is fast arriving.
DING DING DING!
So I moved to draw his attention, motioning for my attendants to fetch both perfume and refreshments to my palanquin, and moving ever so slightly to lounge across it, causing the bells attached all along my tail to jingle with the call of a siren.
And it worked.
The lupinor’s gaze shifted to my presence, his eyes devouring my very being, right before he let that arrow fly, the once fiery projectile quickly turned into this cold, brittle shaft that shattered on impact on the target it was aimed for.
I smiled.
Yes.
I’d managed to — if only momentarily — affect the prince’s inner desires.
I had curtailed his warrior’s fire, tempered it with a cooling gale, and soothed the savage wildman with nothing but the frigid look of a beauty unmatched.
I had, in no uncertain terms, caught his attention… and ensnared his wild heart.
Those awestruck eyes said it all.
=====
Thalmin
I starred… blankly… frustratingly… at a target still standing unscathed, from a shot ruined by an unexpected distraction.
“Erm, Thalmin, you okay there?” Emma inquired, just as I snapped out of that disappointing shot with a frustrated growl. “It really looked like you were gearing for an explosive shot there, why’d you shift to an ice one?”
“Something sent chills up my spine Emma.” I answered plainly, before gesturing at the offending party. “Or more specifically, someone managed to shake me to my core.”
“Ah.” Came Emma’s reply, as she attempted to peer behind the row of artifacts, towards the offending noble in question. “Yeah, I’d be distracted too given all that shiny jewelry. But hey! Think you can manage another one though?” She urged, prompting the bow within my hands to once more glow with the flames of a phoenix reborn.
“Yes.” I nodded slowly, my confidence and resolve returning in short order. “I think that can be arranged.”
=====
Cynthis
No.
Did that newrealmer just—
No, that's impossible.
His flame returned.
His fire.
Had I misinterpreted his prior reactions?
Had I—
TWANG!
THWOOOOOSH!
FWWOOOOOOSHHHH!
…
The target in question erupted in a ball of flames.
A series of uproarious cheers erupted from between the pair… and of course… the busybody Viscount Gumigo.
“A brilliant show from Prince Thalmin! A round of applause, please!!” He attempted to spur on.
Though, to my satisfaction, nobody joined in.
Only the jeers, cheers, and hollers of the inane and backwards filled the open concourse.
What’s more, my attention was now firmly sequestered on the flame which lit the prince’s bow — and by extension — his heart.
…
One could of course interpret this whole affair in a far more favorable light.
Perhaps the fire and flames didn’t equate to the fires of passion stoked within his heart.
Perhaps it merely represented the unkempt heat of barbarism, spurred on by the agent of backwardness, as what better catalyst existed than the agent of primitivism herself; a newrealmer?
His arrow of ice was antithetical to this.
It represented a cooling of this unkempt fire, a tempering of his baser instincts, and a taming of the unruly beast within.
This…
This had to be the way of things.
For the only alternative, the only other explanation to the contrary… was unacceptable.
The newrealmer could not have had such an effect on him.
She wasn’t even nobility.
And for Prince Thalmin to have regarded my inviting gaze with ice and scorn?
That…
That was simply impossible.
It was at the crux of these thoughts that I finally knew I had to make my second move.
I’d ensnared him with a simple gaze, yes.
But now I needed to ‘reel him in’, as the commoners would say.
JINGLE!
I ordered my palanquin forward.
I adjusted my lean, my pose, and the position of all my jewels, such that there would be naught an item of wealth and status that remained hidden and unseen.
I made it known my presence, from a distance, even as the prince feigned ignorance in his incessant ramblings.
His words, his simple obsessions over these trifling and dusty artifacts, all blending into the background as I soon halted his advance through the gallery of forgettable trinkets.
I had made my move.
Now was the prince’s turn to make his.
As I sat there, lazing on my throne of bedazzling cushions, staring up at an armored lupinor like a damsel waiting for her prince.
=====
Thalmin
…
I could go around.
This was an open space.
While she blocked the path ahead, there were empty spaces between each plinth and exhibit with which to navigate.
For a moment however, I found myself unable to move, her perfumes overpowering my senses, prompting me to turn away, just as she was attempting to draw my gaze with a flutter of those fake eyelashes.
With a nod to Emma however, we started to move, darting left, between two exhibits, and then returning back to the red carpet behind the palanquin.
=====
Cynthis
Ah.
This game.
The prince was more playful than I thought.
With a giggle and another snap of my fingers, I found my palanquin moving once more, this time, matching the prince’s casual steps…
Then his pacing…
And eventually, his sprints, as he moved away from the gallery and towards the victor’s arcade where everyone else was gathered.
It was entertaining at first.
But frustration soon grew as the prince continued to ignore eye contact until finally…
I had to make my third move.
“Oh Prince Havenbrock~” I said softly. “Might I interest you in an exchange of tales? I imagine you have quite a few stories to share from your adventures in the Nexian wilds, hmm?”
“Not really, no.”
…
I felt my features stiffen.
My face, whilst retaining its smile and warmth, shattered behind that mask.
W-what did he mean by this?
Was this some other game? Some other attempt to—
No.
I had to do something!
“Oh! Humility! Why, Prince Havenbrock, there is no need for that!” I attempted to reclaim the momentum, clamoring up towards the peak of my summit. “After all, I would consider myself something of a raconteur, myself — and by extension, a gracious host! So please, rest easy… and maybe—” I paused, before moving gently into a cross-legged kneel, gesturing towards the now-empty patch of upholstery next to me. “—consider resting next to me?”
I did everything mother and grandmother taught me.
I kept my smile strong.
I swayed my tail gracefully.
The bells, ornaments, and various baubles attached to them, forming a graceful lullaby with which any male would find irresistible.
I even curated my gaze, fluttered my eyebrows, and committed to a song and dance of courtly measure that I’d spent an untold number of hours practicing, honing….
And it was clear it was working.
The prince’s eyes softened, his gaze shifted, and his head cocked, every so slightly, between my eyes and my hand gently caressing the free space right next to me; still warm to the touch.
“I…”
“I think we’re good, Lady Cynthis! Thalmin and I were just on our way to Lord Qiv’Ratom’s Bapycara exhibit!”
!!!!
And with that… the spell was broken.
I watched, in shock, in anger, in disbelief, as victory was snatched by the bumbling jaws of defeat.
I took my first breath.
My first, real breath of the entire day.
The magic was broken.
The fantasy was ruined.
The carefully laid efforts of ceremony and tradition were shattered.
And all of this — I gripped my dress tightly — now lay in tatters.
I laid back on my palanquin once more, staring, forlornly, at the uneaten cakes and the tea set still waiting to be poured.
“ATTENTION ALL QUEST GOERS, PLEASE BE AWARE YOU HAVE LESS THAN 1 HOUR TO PREPARE FOR THE CLOSING CEREMONY!”
…
There was always another day.
And there would be… ways… to make this work.
I turned to Ping, if only momentarily.
Perhaps the newrealmer was more a nuisance than I’d initially considered.
=====
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Hall of Champions. Victor’s Square. Local Time 1700 Hours.
Emma
There were times where I’d forgotten the false pretenses of this whole operation to be honest.
That sorta thing tends to happen when you start small with a magical RTS duel, and end up fulfilling some ancient prophecy with a dragon and a direct videoconference back home.
Foraging for flowers ended up giving off the same impression as a forgotten sidequest picked up at the tutorial of a game, and the way we managed to actually acquire them, didn’t help with that notion either.
Regardless, the importance of this whole charade really started dawning on us once Belnor’s grand celebrations kicked into high gear.
It started simply enough. An opening speech by Belnor herself, then a standing ovation to all of the successful questors — surprise surprise, everyone succeeded — with a particular round of applause reserved for the first five to arrive.
Then, came the partying.
Feasts, drinks, and even more feasts, the likes of which were dominated by Ilunor and Rostario both attempting to out-orate the other in an epic sonnet battle that lasted for longer than my entire debrief with the deluxe kobold…
All of this culminated in the most bizarre aspect of the whole thing — a musical performed by the top 3 questing groups, all regaling the crowd with their version of the original everblooming blossom quest.
Suffice it to say, both Thalmin and I were glad we arrived 5th.
A sentiment that seemed to be shared between a lot of the last-minute returnees.
As I turned around to see the two elven gaming twins once again setting up for another battle, with Qiv’s rodent of unusual size acting as a sort of rogue agent in the whole affair, settling in the middle of the board as a force of nature.
Yet throughout it all, I couldn’t help but to be unable to shake off the everpresent glare of a certain cheetah. Her slitted pupils and that unflinching gaze seemed to keep track of not just Thalmin this time, but me as well.
“I assume that her culture, in line with Nexian traditions of courting, tends to be quite… overzealous when it comes to this sort of thing, Emma.” Thalmin finally explained under a privacy screen, as we overlooked the musical at a pop-up bar at the edge of the Victor’s Square concourse.
“On one hand, it’s kinda creepy.” I began. “On the other hand, I can’t help but feel sorry for her, Thalmin. I mean, it’s not her fault that she was brought up with these values.”
“Some realms seem to place particular emphasis on last-borns, especially those furthest away from any lineal claim, towards this path. Whilst others simply see this as an integral aspect of their duty. Either way, let us not dwell on her… peculiar form of the chase. She will tire eventually. There are far, far more appealing suitors for her to choose from within our ranks, after all.”
“I suppose.” I shrugged. “But don’t sell yourself short, Thalmin, you’re, you know, pretty high up there on the ‘suitor’ list yourself!”
Thalmin narrowed his eyes at me at this comment, prompting me to just shrug. “It’s a compliment, I’m not here to take a jab at the annulled proposal or your preexisting relationship with Asva.”
“I… appreciate the sentiments, Emma.” Thalmin finally responded, shrugging in confusion.
A small lull in the conversation eventually emerged, and despite the presence of the ongoing play, Ilunor’s epic sonnet battle, and a whole host of carnival-esque music playing in the background, there was a silence there that I just couldn’t shake free.
“So… what now?” I asked Thalmin.
“Oh, there’s the matter of the donations. The Everblooming Blossoms will be donated to apothecaries and healers all across Transgracia. Then, following that, we will receive their thanks, gratitude, as well as some sort of token or some such. After that… I think I’d like to ask you the same question, Emma.”
“Huh?”
“What’s next in store for us? Or rather, in your growing, accessory questlines?”
“Priority’s taken by the ECS reconstruction efforts.” I acknowledged. “After that, there’s the matter of the library to deal with… the green book and Larial… as well as my own quest for the whole taint stuff.”
“I see, I see.” Thalmin nodded. “And… our cultural exchange propositions?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s definitely on the agenda. Once I finish rebuilding the ECS, and getting everything else sorted of course.”
“I’ll have my own presentation prepared for you by then, Emma.” Thalmin grinned, as we both turned towards the rapidly progressing evening, right as the local time struck 17:00.
A small, vestigial warning popped up at the bottom right hand side of my HUD. A reminder that I was surprised the EVI hadn’t yet removed, especially given everything that’s happened thus far.
[Current Calender… T+29 Days since arrival. Reminder: First ECS Transmission due in 6 Days!]
However, given the fact I hadn’t been manually clearing the calendar, that was on me more than anything.
The systems weren’t expecting the first correspondence to be conducted over a dragon service provider, after all.
“EVI.”
“Yes, Cadet Booker?”
“Mark objective as complete and reset countdown timer pending ECS reconstruction.”
“Noted. Pending T Minus 28 Days, +/- 7 Days.”
“Thank you, EVI.”
“Now then… how about we spend what little time is left of our freedom on some festivities, Emma?”
“Huh?” I looked up, meeting Thalmin’s gaze as he pulled me out of my internal world.
“Classes will start up again tomorrow. And after that, school. We still have the Academy to attend, after all. So why don’t we make the best of tonight?”
“Yeah.” I smiled. “Let’s.”
=====
Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 29. Living Room. Local Time: 2000 Hours
Etholin
“I want you to apologize.” I stated plainly, clearly, and in no uncertain terms. “To Cadet Emma Booker, Princess Thacea Dilani, and Lord Ilunor Rularia.”
“WHAT?!” Ilphius responded instinctively, her piercing hiss and the fire behind her eyes sending an instinctive pang of fear down my spine.
“HOW DARE YOU INSENUATE THAT WE ARE IN ANY WAY—”
“Stop.” Kamil, of all people, turned to face his criminal associate. “Just… cease it with this ego-driven mania, Lady Ilphius.”
“I… I beg your pardon—”
“Yes, beg. You’ll both be doing that soon at the heels of a newrealmer no less.” Teleos interjected, having finished his second gallon of water this evening. “You have no one but yourself to blame, Lady Ilphius. You, and your ego, and whatever craziness is going inside of that little head of yours.” He reiterated, practically interjecting and timing his words to prevent the serpent from any reprisals or rebuttals.
He’d gotten good at this…
“It is time that you change, Lady Ilphius.” I demanded sternly. “And it starts with a genuine apology, and a lessening of our social burden, perhaps even a freeing of your own chains, owned by the avinor princess and—”
“I am OWNED by no—”
“If you don’t apologize, fine.” Kamil interrupted once again. “But I will.”
This… garnered the attention of all present, as I stared dumbfounded into the absentee’s eyes.
“Y-you will? Without even a rebuttal or negotiation?”
“What I did was wrong, Lord Etholin. I’m not blind—” He paused, turning to Ilphius for a moment. “—nor delusional enough to convince myself otherwise. I wish to acknowledge my follies, and start over on a new realm with this newrealmer.” He added, with some surprising levity at that, if that pun was of any indication.
“What do you want from the newrealmer, Kamil?” I finally questioned, dropping all pretenses, and narrowing my gaze into the man’s eyes. “One doesn’t just shift from absentee to unwitting criminal to apologetic saint in a mere week.”
“I… I just… what I saw in that room, was not of our conception, Lord Esila. I merely wish to satiate my curiosities, by perhaps engaging in some dialogue with this earthrealmer. And the start to that, is an apology over bad blood spilt.”
I looked to Teleos, who merely shrugged in my direction.
“Don’t look at me, this is not my current to swim.”
“Well… we can start on this by approaching the earthrealmer together, Lord Kamil Lyonn.” I offered politely. “As for you.” I turned to Ilphius. “I expect you to follow me all the same.”
“I would much rather die than submit to a weakling such as— OUCH!”
“Oh, well look at this, it’s time for me to leave. Oh, my sincerest apologies Lady Ilphius, I must have not seen your tail on my way out.” Teleos spoke quickly, shutting the door behind him before the wrath of Lady Ilphius could catch up.
The room erupted into chaos no sooner after that.
=====
Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 22, Residence 29. Living Room. Local Time: 2000 Hours
Qiv’Ratom
“Airit?”
“Yes, Lord Ratom?”
“I suggest we start planning your victory over the tainted one.”
“You mean the Greater Avinor—”
“Channel your frustrations when the time comes, Lady Airit Airus. The Class Sovereignship challenges come near, and we must be on our best path until I acquire it.”
“Yes, Lord Ratom.” Airit bowed, as I turned towards Rostario in short order.
“Lord Ping’s group isn’t as destitute as I had hoped.” I stated plainly.
“Indeed, my lord. I shall hasten my plans, and indeed, there seems to be much to do when it comes to reinforcing what has already been put into motion.” The small lord spoke in his usual, thoughtful prose. “It is unfortunate that the lupinor prince did not cross paths with Lord Ping during his journeys. But now that proximity is back on our side, perhaps things can change.”
“Perhaps, Lord Rostarion… perhaps.”
=====
3 Days Later
The Township of Sips. Lord Protector’s Town Hall. The Lordship’s Private Offices. Local Time: 2000 Hours.
Lord L’Sips
“Your evening papers, My Lord.” An old, familiar voice entered the fray, momentarily pulling me away from the rapidly dwindling pile of scrolls and parchments scattered across my desk.
“Oh, thank you, Breatria. You may retire for the evening now.” I replied in kind, dismissing the elderly woman with a nod.
The papers were a nuisance to some, a novelty to others, and a status symbol to an esoteric few.
These rolled up parchments with a near limitless capacity for information, were as much useful as they were pointless if one were to peer into a puddle or flare.
Yet they were part of an official — albeit outdated — system.
An instrument from a bygone era, with a niche but pertinent place in the current landscape where information flowed through one’s hands often much too trivially.
The presence of something physical was comforting, both sentimentally and in matters of record.
Yet the contents within the papers tonight, painted a picture of developments very much in line with the datedness of the medium in which it was printed.
As within, were reports belonging to a bygone era, updates on a dragon now reported as MISSING and AT LARGE, as well as a mobilization by none other than the Sky Warden himself.
I had to read that article twice, checking the date of print to ensure that this wasn’t an eon’s old paper.
It wasn’t.
A break over tea was necessary before I continued.
However, subsequent reports tested the soothing properties of a healthy evening brew.
As the next headline brought furrowed brows over a rather concerning development.
UNKNOWN ASSAILANTS TARGET TENT TOWN! 1 DEAD! 1 MISSING! 1 INJURED! HYSTERICAL ADVENTURER DESCRIBES ASSAILANT AS ‘GHOULISH AND UNLIVING!’
I folded the papers following that drivel, staring out at the beautiful evening night, and a town safe in my hands.
“I may need to increase nightly patrols… or request an audience with the King.”
=====
7 Days Later.
The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Lord Mayor’s Manor. Guest Wing. Puddlejumper’s Respite. Local Time 2000 Hours.
Inner Guard Captain Anoyaruous Frital
“Ledwin?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“If you were a Goldthorn… or perhaps I should say, when you become a Goldthorn, will you prioritize prompt resolution, or thoroughness through exhaustion?”
“The latter, ma’am!”
“Even if this comes at the expense of an entire warrant’s worth of time?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Even if the investigation has been written, sealed, proofed, and dusted?”
My squire’s rambunctious grin slowly, and quietly, faded. Replaced instead by a growing confusion that supplanted the fires of self-assured youth.
“I… beg your pardon, Captain?”
“If an investigation is complete, in every sense of the word, should you or should you not ‘run down’ the allotted time of your warrant?”
“... I would assume not, Captain.”
“And why is that?”
“It would… waste the time and resources of the Crown—”
“Ah! But the former is eternal, and the latter is limitless, is it not, Ledwin?”
“... That is correct, ma’am. But if I may?”
“Go on?”
“For what reason would one choose to remain even when the investigation is ove—”
“I am pleased you asked.” I smiled warmly. “Would it not be prudent of the investigator to remain, albeit quietly, to observe all actors once all have assumed she has left?”
Ledwin blinked, pondering this question, before landing on an answer that left his face practically glowing with realization.
“You would see them in their natural state, to see if their day-to-day life is as they say, unaffected by the pressures of our presence.”
“Exactly, Ledwin.”
“I am proud to serve under such a prudent mistress, Captain!”
As you should… but there are more reasons why you would do so, Ledwin. Reasons beyond your youthful comprehension.
I moved quietly towards the balcony, shielded from sight, sound, and all manner of perception, by way of my own spells.
There will be no mercy, even in death, for your legacy, Mal’tory. The investigation remains conclusive, and all paths point to you and your negligence. Though negligence of what exactly remains to be seen. A simple oversight of some perilous artifact would satiate the desires of the justicars and the privy council, but there’s something else, isn’t there? Something that caused you to act so… irrationally. So while the case is shut, there remains a certain… addendum I wish to solve myself. A sidequest, to satiate my own curiosities.
=====
10 Days Later
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. His Majesty’s Protectors’ Tower. The Dean’s Private-Facing Offices. Local Time: 2100 Hours
Dean Altalan Rur Astur
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
“Come in.”
A series of long strides soon followed, and with it, came the man of the hour.
“Ahh, Vanavan. Good. How is our dear Goldthorn faring?”
“She’s ready to implicate the late Professor Mal’tory.” The man spoke sullenly, coldly, his words eating into my facade almost immediately.
“Not even a Good Evening, my dear fellow?” I countered with what vestiges of humor I had left, as that facade soon gave way to my second mask. “So has she filed the reports?” I questioned bluntly.
“Not to my knowledge, sir.”
“And why is that?”
“I… I do not know—”
“Or you didn’t ask?” I countered, meeting the meeker man’s eyes, shattering the determination within… what little there was.
“It would have been too obvious if I did, sir.” His broken response came through, prompting me to place my face between a single palm.
“Of course it would have… Right then, this changes nothing. Apprentice Larial has returned with the first batch of prerequisite materials. Though I am afraid this is simply the first of a set of three or four. The apprentice has been dispatched to acquire the rest, of course. So please see to it that Professor Sorecar continues substituting for that class of hers, will you?”
“Yes, sir.” The man bowed, before leaving my sight shortly thereafter.
=====
Healing Wing. Rila’s Room. Local Time: 2130 Hours.
Rila
CLICK!
A nurse arrived.
Right on schedule.
“Here’s the rest of your medicines, dear.” The water elemental spoke softly, kindly, just as the rest of them did.
“Thank you, ma’am.” I bowed, taking the herbal and magical remedies without hesitation. “Er, ma’am, if I may—”
“Yes? Do you feel poorly, dear? Any dizziness? Nausea? Vomiting?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. If anything, I feel wonderful, actually. I… I was curious if there was any progress on my dischar—”
“Oh, the administration is currently still dealing with that dear! But nothing to worry your silly little commoner head on, you hear?” She spoke, in that dismissive, saccharine tone of voice.
Though a quick glance, a quick exchange of stares was all that I needed to know from this… friendly response.
Stop bothering me.
I sighed, nodding, knowing where to stop, and allowing the nurse to go on her own way.
The matter of my name must still be in debate… it must be… that… or the investigation…
Whatever the case may be, I learned not to question them long ago…
=====
30 Days Later.
Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 2000 Hours
Emma
[EXOREALITY COMMUNICATION SUITE INITIALIZING]
[703.5.77 IAS-PP SYSTEMS]
[ECS UNIT 001 . . . BOOTUP COMPLETE]
[SYSTEM ID: EVI01BOOTSTRAP]
[BUILD TIME: T+34 Days… 7 Hours… 52 Minutes… 40 Seconds Post-Arrival.]
[CHARGE TIME COMPLETE: T+59 Days… 3 Hours… 27 Minutes… 43 Seconds Post-Arrival.]
[NOTE TO OPERATOR: PLEASE REVIEW MESSAGE PRIOR TO TRANSCRIPTION]
Hi.
If you’re reading this, then that means the Exoreality Communications Suite has done its job.
We now have a home-grown proprietary line of communication that bridges the ‘space between spaces’, as they say over here.
Attached are my reports, a complete summary of events following our last unexpected live communique, and my progress here thus far.
I’ve also taken the liberty of attaching relevant data packets of the science I’ve done here thus far. And note, I’m attaching you all we’ve been able to gather on the chimes issue as well.
It’s related to taint.
I trust you guys can get to the bottom of it.
[...]
[Skipping to Page 14, Section 9, Article 12: Operator’s Personal Notes.]
[Section Title: In Memory of Pilot I.]
I imagine there is a lot of fanfare currently unfolding back home. Whether or not that is a response to the real and pressing threat barreling down our collective necks, the shock coming hot off the presses regarding the rich diversity of alien life over here, or something in between, I can’t say.
All I can say, and all I can hope for, is that we don’t lose sight of what’s possible here.
It’s a known fact that the Nexus is hostile.
I don’t deny that.
But within that understanding, lies the potential for hope.
Within just days, I logged more unique instances of extraterrestrial life than all existing records to date.
Within just the first month, I was able to establish a personal bond — and eventually a working relationship — with the representative of an alien polity whose expressed sentiments align with our vision, our hope, and the goal we have been working towards since we first laid eyes on the stars: friendship.
I’m not saying I’m a miracle worker.
I’m not claiming to be able to move mountains or reshape the minds of everyone here.
But what I am saying is that we shouldn’t lose sight of what we’ve accomplished here.
The Marathon spirit is still alive. Don’t let it die out of fear.
This is Cadet Emma Booker, Mission Commander, Sole Mission Operator, working representative, (and the new student from Earth), signing off from Exoreality FOB 1, at the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts.
May this first correspondence between realities, constructed by human hands, and dreamed up by human minds, be the first of many to come.