Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Here is the Work in Progress for Chapter 173 I hope you guys enjoy! :D
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Exhibition Hall. Grand Arcade. Central Thoroughfare. Local Time: 2045 Hours.
Emma
I had to do several double-takes when the name Articord was dropped in the same sentence as battlemaster.
Articord.
The Articord.
The same fox-kin professor who stood unflinchingly for hours and hours droning on and on about the wonders of Nexian primacy, only occasionally sprinkling in history in between bouts of dogma and propaganda.
My head flicked back and forth, committing to these double-takes not only because of the absurdity of such a seemingly sedentary academic — and I used that word generously — leading a fight club of all things, but also because of a more… pertinent issue.
The person that walked onto the scene, pushing aside curtains, and flanked by no one, was a completely different beast to the raging propagandist.
For starters, her deep green robes and suede overcoat were gone, and so too was that folded hat that she wore all the time outside of class.
Indeed, her tunic, vest, belt, and all manner of articles denoting her rank, station, and raging identity, was simply absent here.
Instead, the person that emerged looked as if they’d belong more within the ranks of the adventuring guild, more so than any of the gathered upper yearsmen and battlemages-in-training here did.
Because replacing those articles of academia was an outfit I’d only imagined Chiska could pull off: hardened scale-armor boots, leggings of a similar material that shimmered under the tent’s spotlights, a long hauberk (thanks, EVI) obscured partially by a flowy tabard decorated in the sigils and symbols of what I assumed to be her house, and finally a kettle-hat (thanks x2, EVI) with a little modification for both of her foxy ears to poke through.
And while that latter design choice was rather suspect, the rest had genuine presence.
Moreover, that emerald staff she held carried a completely different aura in this setup.
It no longer looked like an accessory, a frivolous symbol of power. Instead, it looked more at home here as a weapon of war than her previous ensembles could ever hope to accomplish.
“Prince Thalmin of Havenbrock.” She acknowledged the prince with a cock of her head. “Your presence was foretold.”
“Professor… Articord.” Thalmin bowed, more so out of confusion than anything, just as dazed as I was at the club’s odd choice of faculty overseer. “I—”
“—was expecting someone more like Chiska, yes?” Articord interjected, garnering an expected nod from the prince.
“Typical.” She rolled her eyes, just as a few whispers were exchanged around us.
Whispers… which the EVI was quick to pick up on.
“I don’t know why I even bother wagering on the first years’ reactions to this anymore…”
A quick glance from Articord shut them up right away, as the terse fox was quick to gesture towards a nearby seat, offering a surprising degree of civil hospitality despite the otherwise tense scene.
Though before Thacea and I could join Thalmin’s side, our chairs were magically removed, literally poofing out of existence; sending the EVI for another loop as it logged yet another new spell.
“Are you here to partake, or to pay witness?” Articord questioned, her voice at least hinting at some degree of civility behind her usual haughty tendencies.
“Moral support.” I answered for us, garnering a side eye from the professor.
“Then those will be your seats.” She gestured towards one of the many spectator stands in the room.
With a shrug and a nod, we both made our way towards the stands, watching as Articord now put her full attention on the prince in question.
“Do you understand why Chiska isn’t in charge of this discerning organization?”
“I have no issues ascertaining that particular aspect of this arrangement.” Thalmin answered with a confident swagger. “Professor Chiska is a specialist in the physical arts: magical augmentation of physical capabilities, the martial arts, and the enhancement of physical acumen in the pursuit of strengthening this mortal vessel which houses our souls. Fight Club, by contrast, is founded on a set of fundamentally different principles.” He gestured to himself proudly, flexing his right arm and pulling back his tunic’s short sleeve, garnering a few bleghs of disgust from a particularly feeble looking third year student. “What I am surprised about, is that there would be anyone besides Professor Chiska who would be inclined to the art of fighting.” Thalmin boldly declared, garnering the exasperated gazes of more than a handful of the gathered would-be battlemages. “Forgive me for my insolence, Professor Articord, but I never before heard of your history as a battlemage.”
“That is because we have yet to partake in our field trip.” The fox answered with an emotion I hadn’t yet seen her express — slyness. “There are a great many things about my life that are as unexpected as my inclination to warfighting. For there were a great many lives I’ve led in my time as staffholder.” She eyed the emerald gem at the tip of her staff for a moment, before simply continuing on without much bother. “I continue to marvel at your boldness, Prince Thalmin Havenbrock. Though perhaps today we shall see if this boldness comes from a place of strength or bluster.”
The pair met each others’ gazes with their own brand of intensity, before Articord continued with a growing smile. “Tell me then… what exactly are the principles of Fight Club?”
“On the surface?” Thalmin paused, eyeing the upper yearsmen present. “It is to attain the appropriate prerequisites, the decorations necessary for application into the various battlemage academies within the Crownlands. But beneath it? Fight Club is founded on the principles of magical might, the distillation of magical acumen for the purposes of a completely magical martial art. It is to achieve victory at the notion of a thought, expending armies without the necessity to raise even a single finger.”
Articord smiled, then nodded, before bringing both of her hands into a slow but purposeful series of claps.
“The exact words of the text.” She proclaimed proudly, before assuming a more intent position, leaning forward towards Thalmin. “But do you understand it? Do you believe it?”
The prince never once flinched at Articord’s impromptu interview, instead leaning back into a more comfortable stance. “Point of social privilege.”
“Point granted.” Articord played along.
“I wish to answer this… with a question of my own.”
“Granted.”
Thalmin quickly shifted his attention towards the crowd behind Articord, his eyes leveling on each and every one of them. “How many here have actually participated in battle?”