Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Here is the Work in Progress for Chapter 177 I hope you guys enjoy! :D As was the case with last week's WiP, this one is a bit longer than usual since I'm just really excited to share it with you guys! :D
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Exhibition Hall. Grand Arcade. Central Thoroughfare. Prosperity Row. Local Time: 2120 Hours.
Rostario Rostarion
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts… was neither Transgracian, or an Academy, or even a center solely dedicated to the Magical Arts.
At least, not for the true aspirants who saw past the theatre of life.
The Academy was whatever you wanted it to be.
A playground.
A sandbox.
A veritable blank slate through which fates are decided and futures are dictated.
It was a place where fortunes were made and kingdoms were lost, all in the span of a half decade, or sometimes even as short as a single night.
It was the microcosm of all things Nexian, all things Adjacent, the greater Nexian-Adjacent axis condensed into a dish so immaculately curated that it was almost a parody of the system it purportedly uplifted.
And it was within those conditions, ripe not only for academic excellence, but personal excellence, that individual initiative was rewarded far beyond the greatest that the written curriculum could ever offer.
Because at the end of the day… life was not dictated by a paper stating your merits.
The people who seek such meritorious standings, all see the forest for the trees in that sense.
No.
You would be remiss, if not completely wasteful, if your aims at Transgracia were limited to serving out your realm’s tributes and obligations without once leaving the lecture hall.
You can be completely unremarkable in your academic journey… yet still achieve leagues beyond the greatest of aspirant battlemages and the most astute of bookish scholars.
For within this world… was an ocean of opportunity.
You just had to seize it, and mold it, provided you had the eyes to see it in the first place.
For there were two types of students at the Academy.
Those who swam above the waters, and those who remained ignorant of the world beyond its surface.
Lord Qiv’Ratom was neither. The man was… studious, yes. Perhaps blindingly so. But he was also astute enough to understand the greater games at play.
Yet it was… difficult to discern whether he saw it to its greatest extent, or merely as an extension of the Academic playbox most found themselves lost within.
It didn’t matter, however.
The man was a good… sponsor, of sorts.
Far more stable, and much wiser than Ping in any case.
And indeed, to those so inclined to such fatalistic drivel, he was very much the textbook definition of the destined first-hand of the year group so to speak; it was just obvious.
Qiv was the King in white, whilst Ping… the Duke in Yellow.
Entering the lord’s peer group, acting as his adjutant, was simply the obvious play. Especially considering the breadth of freedoms he offered, and the trust he placed upon me; pairing both the name and prestige he’d built for our peer group upon my many, many self-directed endeavors.
It provided for the sturdy foundation needed for my lofty ambitions.
Ambitions… which proved far more lofty from the onset just by casual observation, and otherwise completely validated by Lord Etholin Esila’s poor, poor play at attaining what was my personal quest — the acquisition of Cadet Emma Booker.
The newrealmer was a verdant, fertile garden, ready to be cultivated; shaped, tilled, and trimmed to my desires.
But I knew, from what I’d observed of her, that she was no typical beast; and thus no simple animal to break.
I thus needed… assurances, additional backers, allies with similar interests with which to participate on this open safari by my side.
So while Qiv and Uven proceeded on his quests of Nexian fealty in the form of the Quest for the Everblooming Blossom, I too partook in my own quest.
A quest not of peer group subterfuge… but post-Academy aspirations.
I was to recruit like-minded… investors.
To offer the newrealmer something that her minders, superiors, matriarchs, patriarchs, chiefs, or what-have-you could never, ever offer her.
Money was one thing.
Honor was another.
All of which could be easily given by the rulers of a realm.
But there was one thing they could not offer.
One thing that they themselves coveted.
Power.
And it was with this in mind, that I made my gambit.
For it was clear the earthrealmer was well-off in her own right, prideful in her misguided ideals of honor and whatnot.
But what could all that mean when faced with a throne offered on a silver platter?
Or better yet… the promise of eternity through a lineage guaranteed by like-minded adjacencies.
And so the conspiracy was set.
“The newrealmer? Well… with how you have framed her, she does seem like a worthwhile venture. Let’s discuss terms, and what exactly shall be formed from my fiscal backing.”
I had investors ready to take the plunge.
“Acknowledge her? Recognize her, even? Hmm… she is impressionable, young as we are, yet less experienced in matters of stately affairs. It should be easy pickings to influence her then. I shall do what I can, provided this gambit concludes in the manner you have laid out, Lord Rostarion.”
I had political allies ready to back this gambit were it to proceed.
“War materiel? That’s asking for a lot, Lord Rostarion… you better offer me something good in return. And I mean a long, long stake in this Adjacent venture.”
I even had the backing of certain talents ready to lend the necessary tools for such an endeavor.
All I needed was one more soul. One more aspirant. One more mouth that would shut itself to ensure my monopoly.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Lord Rostarion.”
…
And yet he was the only one to refuse.
“It’s because you have aspirations of your own, don’t you, Lord Esila?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Those being?”
“My own. Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do.”
The Rontalisrealmer did not know what he had committed to.
He did not realize the insults incurred over such earnest offerings.
Moreover, he thought himself better, more capable of offering a single blundering offer in the face of a newrealmer that was anything but extraordinary.
As expected, he failed because of it.
He treated the newrealmer like any other.
That was his greatest folly.
Because the earthrealmer was anything but the norm, no matter how you plotted her on a graph of deviation.
She needed to be tackled… with more unorthodox means, means more aggressive, more personable, with more resources than a single realm could muster.
Means… attached to desire that none could resist.
All behind a personable, professional, smile.
“Cadet Emma Booker…” I began with a theatrical flare, twisting about on my cloud, as I quickly gestured towards the abysmally boring sight seer that changed abruptly towards the show I’d prepared. “I offer you, personally… the world.”
The world around us melted, representing the failures of the rontalisrealmer’s trite and uninspired presentations.
The banal castles and worthless coffers quickly turned into an unassuming field.
A field… that held within it not just attuned gold, silver, or even platinum.
Instead, it held the offerings of more than a dozen realms, aligned, arranged, and specifically positioned to emphasize their relative importance in the grander scope of this gambit.
“You may be asking yourself what I mean by such a vague statement. I will assure you, your excellency, that I will not be wasting either your time or your patience in this venture.” I shifted my cadence, specifically attuning each syllable with a degree of respect and deference not a single other student has yet to have expressed; more than likely catching her off guard and off-balance.
Even the most stalwart of facades can be softened with platitudes. Especially if said platitudes were convincing and genuine.
Her silence was telling.
A stark contrast to the constant resistance she demonstrated to Etholin’s offers.
I made sure not to leave that dead air empty for long.
“You were sent here with the express purpose of forging bonds with those on the other side of your portal. That much, I recall, and have put to memory months ago.” I continued, ensuring that the Cadet understood that her voice had not been disregarded. And that it had been considered, memorized, and put to consideration by those on the side of the offerer. “You were sent here, to work on the behalf of those with power, authority, and command over you. And now, two months after that point, you have seen, with your own eyes, a world far larger than your own. Far more expansive. Far grander. With vibrant delights and excesses in the arts, culture, and an innumerable number of scenes which tantalizes the senses and tests the limits of imagination. And yet… you do not get to enjoy these pleasures. Your duty compels you to sacrifice time otherwise better spent exploring the beauties of the world, on matters of academia, diplomacy, and whatever else this candidacy demands of you…”
I paused, shaking my head with an empathetic fervor. “You will return, each year, until finally, you make a name for yourself as the first successful candidate, ensuring your place amongst the realms, yes.” I nodded, ensuring that these predictions were a foregone conclusion, at least in cadence and tone. “But I ask you… what will become of you, Cadet Emma Booker?’
“How will your leaders reward you? With lands? Titles? Honors? Statues? Perhaps a name to be lauded in the history books for eternia?”
“I ask you… will that be sufficient repayment? For a life devoted for the good of your realm? Is that truly, in any sense of the word, fair? Well… I for one would wish to offer an alternative end to a life led in selfless service and ascetic benevolence. I offer you the chance to reach beyond the limits of what you can realistically achieve on your own. I offer you a chance to rise to the top. I offer you… a crown, delivered, secured, and ensured, by the trustees of my endeavor.”
I gestured, proudly, to the veritable army behind me.
“Let’s start with the aethraship, shall we?”