Emma
There are times on deployment where months can feel like minutes, and where minutes can feel like months, and others where seconds become more important than both—
Shut up Lieutenant Dan, you’re not even Aunty Ran!
…
It was the visuals that hit me first — an implosion of every active window and the cessation of all accessory processes in exchange for a sudden transition into a very radical, but very necessary shift in the EVI’s HUD-focus.
It was nothing short of whiplash.
A virtual equivalent of going from sublight to lightspeed without warning and while on break.
Even the most AR-savvie civvie would find it disorienting.
Some might even find it nausea-inducing.
Heck, most greenhorns found that it gave them vertigo more times than they’d care to admit.
I’d know, because I was one of them. At least, I was, until it was trained right out of me through sheer force of exposure alone.
There was no way of getting around it. There was no ‘easy’ way to acclimatize a human mind to the expectations of a situation that could turn from R&R to high-intensity firefight in the span of seconds.
This phenomenon was acutely compounded for ship crews, where you were several more steps removed from the dangers outside your deceptively safe bubble.
But that’s exactly why acclimatization training was so very needed, yet so incredibly brutal.
It was training you for situations beyond what the human mind was expected to handle, it went beyond the most extreme limits of nature in response to the eclectic scenarios only capable of being drawn up by the increasingly unhinged demands of modern warfare.
And it meant I could instinctively make a reasonably calculated call even on the heel of the most jarring of moments.
This was in no small part thanks to the EVI’s assistance, of course.
A web of branching options was brought to my attention, and with it, came the resultant ends of three distinct paths at the end of two very different nodes.
[COA 1: ENGAGE]
A third of my vision was suddenly dominated by a series of reticles, targeting solutions, and a prime target choice for my bullets to land.
[COA 2: EVASION]
The next third of my vision — dominating my center of vision — was marked by a clear escape route, weaving through Thalmin and Thacea, and towards the path least likely to be squashed by the drake.
I reflexively rejected it, prompting the middle partition of my vision to instead fold into the third.
[COA 3: EXFIL WITH FRIENDLIES]
Thacea and Thalmin were both now marked with an upward arrow beneath their highlighted silhouettes.
I blinked.
[CARRY MODE ACTIVE]
And I braced for a sudden rush of both speed and—
ALERT: LOCAL SURGE OF ‘30th’ ATYPICAL MANA RADIATION TYPE DETECTED: 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS!
I stopped.
And if it weren’t for the sudden shift to fully-compensated sports mode, I would’ve promptly fallen over from the abrupt start-stop motion of my 2-second armor-augmented sprint.
Thalmin had extended his arm out wide, preventing me from both picking him up… or more aptly, preventing me from approaching Thacea any further.
That second of hesitation would’ve been enough to squash us anyways.
But that didn’t seem to be what fate had in mind for us at the moment.
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
The warning texts didn’t do it justice, no matter how hard they flashed.
Thalmin’s features could attest to that.
And thankfully, so could the WAID.
What I saw on that superimposed layer — that almost ‘echolocation-like’ weather-vane world consisting of turbulent waves, repeating, undulating, and ‘refreshing’ at a framerate that would’ve made anyone weaker sick to their stomach — was nothing short of mayhem.
It looked as if the formerly clean and tidy currents, the invisible… ebbs and flows that made up the intangible world, had simply been disrupted.
Not in a ripple effect or a splash as you’d see in a tsunami formed from a meteorite strike or a subsiding island.
Not even in a turbulent shaking sort of effect as you might expect from a massive seismic event.
It was just… a sharp and complete obliteration of all waves in their entirety, rendering the ebbs and flows of the world — or the bare-bones outlines of such in my eyes — into a wobbly, shapeless mass.
Yet this whole… event — as extreme as it was — was logged in terms of mere seconds.
As not a blink of an eye later did mana come flooding right back into the obliterated void it’d been crushed out of.
Thacea quickly used this to her advantage, channeling the rushing mana into what I could only describe as a concentrated conical expression of twisting, winding, and highly condensed mana-streams, all concentrated up and around the falling drake that now hovered still above all of us; mere inches from our faces.
The whole world came to an abrupt and complete silence as a result.
Though I couldn’t tell if it was because of the floating mass of who-knows-how-many metric tons of pure drake that hovered over us… or if it was the means by which this sudden display of magical power had come to be.
Nobody moved.
Barely anyone dared to even breathe.
The only sounds around us came from the festive music several ‘blocks’ over, from streets and stalls still completely oblivious to the events taking place over on this side of the exhibition hall.
But all that quickly changed… to the tune of several large FWOMP FWOMP FWOMPs, and the associated torrent of magically-augmented downdrafts that followed from the wingbeats of a certain blue Vunerian hot on the tail of this erratic flyer.
“IIIIII’lll take that~” The blue thing spoke in that sing-song, almost patronizing tone of voice, though it was clear he was more directing the sentiment towards the second-year student — a satyr by the looks of it — rather than any of us in particular.
If anything—
“Thank you kindly, princess~”
—his next sentiments more or less cemented that notion.
His bright crimson and green drake was quick to snatch the offending pilot, clasping the petrified student in between its jaws, as he was taken limply up and away towards the hall’s great rafters with some serious speed for a winged creature.
… let alone something with a live passenger within its jaws.
Yet despite that… development, there was still the matter of the frozen and levitating drake still left up in the air.
This too, however, would be quickly rectified.
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
PATTERNS CONDUCIVE WITH POINT-TO-POINT TELEPORTATION [54% CONFIDENCE]
Professor Chiska appeared on scene with a brilliant flash of light, quickly leaping atop of the drake, as she dipped her head low in Thacea’s direction. “Thank you kindly, oh heroic highness! Might I say, excellent work with that spell! This all could’ve been quite a scene, if it were not for your quick and decisive actions!”
The professor paused, placing her chin between two fingers, feigning some deep thought before she outright yelled out the next few words in her typical display of high-octane excitement. “Twenty points to House Thun’Yandaris. And thirty points to your peer group!” She beamed, finally garnering some sort of a reaction from the otherwise petrified crowd.
Thacea could only bow deeply in response, making sure her head dipped lower than that of the professor’s just moments earlier.
“T-thank you, professor. I was merely acting in reflexive response to—”
“Oh hush now with your modesties! Take the points and the victory too! What’s more, take this as a direct invitation to any of the clubs under my care!” Professor Chiska continued, grinning ear-to-ear in an almost cheshire cat-like grin. Though strangely, and rather counter-intuitively, that naturally ominous expression was worn as something well-meaning, if not a bit teasingly so, rather than anything sinister; a trend reinforced by our exposure to the boisterous professor over the past month.
Thacea once more bowed in response, and after what appeared to be a quiet series of tactful back and forths, Chiska too now turned to the rapidly thawing crowd. One which seemed to have set their eyes as much on the professor’s now-upright drake, as much as they were on the princess who’d just saved them from a great deal of pain.
“Now then, students! There’s no longer anything to be alarmed about! Please go about as you were! Unless, of course, any of you have any injuries or other such grievances to make note of—”
A hand was raised from the crowd.
A hand… belonging to a certain shatorealmer.
“Professor?” Airit Airus spoke with a faux-fearful lilt in her voice, as if trying to shore up a strong front in the face of adversity.
“Yes, Lady Airit Airus?” Chiska responded promptly.
To which the bat, much to her theatrical chops, and very much to my annoyance — slowly, and in dramatic fashion — raised a shaky finger towards Thacea.
“S-she… t-that student… She showed her hand! It bled taint into the air in the midst of us all!”
…
I felt something sharp piercing deep into a part of my thick skin that I thought I’d long since grown an immunity to, or at least a resistance.
It was both a mental and emotional reaction, as much as it was physical.
The former two were self explanatory, as a sharp shooting pang of indignant fury sparked into a flash fire only tempered by the cold and steely walls of both the armor and the mind that found itself perpetually encased within it.
The latter, however, was much more visceral, as a stinging, almost instinctive twitch of my eye came and went in rapid succession, each movement more aggravating than the last, each inching towards that emotional flashpoint which could sadly not be read through the layers of steel preventing the bat from experiencing the worst of my silent fury.
Yet she’d see the subtle motions all the same: the slow but purposeful cock of my head, the utterly unyielding stare as my two red lenses would never once move away from those eyes on the verge of crocodile tears.
And I knew she noticed, if that subtle flinch and a momentary break in her stageplay facade was of any indication.
“It was… vile, an utterly traumatic display of blatant and indisputable evil. A corruption of disproportionate extremes, cataclysmic in its totality, and reprehensible in its violation of all things decent.” She continued, nearly unabated, if not for a small skip in her words following a brief realization that my steely gaze had not once left her fragile, porcelain facade.
I opened my mouth, ready to spit literal fire, but holding back on unleashing the flames for fear of adding fuel to an inferno in the making.
This wasn’t just an attack on my newrealm status, or some jab at being an adjacency after all.
This… was a targeted strike on a very, very sensitive talking point. One that I’d been well in tune with from the moment Thacea was singled out on orientation day.
So before I was able to formulate a response, and before anything left my mouth, it was Chiska who managed to seize the first strike.
And it was clear that it was very much a strike, despite what initial appearances might have led one to believe.
“Oh, I’m so terribly sorry to hear that dear.” Chiska responded with an overly sappy, practically saccharine tone of voice, bordering on the cooing of a parent aimed at a child experiencing their first boo-boo. “Are you at all hurt? Let me take a closer look at you!” She took slow, careful, measured steps towards the bat. Who, at this point, was starting to see her theatrics start to fray.
Though this didn’t at all dissuade her from continuing the fight.
“I… I feel faint, professor.” She continued, doubling down, as if hoping that adding more weight to the role and committing entirely to the bit would eventually overpower Chiska's overbearing sarcasm. “I do not feel… right, not when exposed, in any reasonable proximity, to a power reserved for both dungeons and life archives alike.”
I felt both of my hands balling into fists at that last line, forcing every fiber of my being into even greater strain, if only to prevent myself from acting out when Chiska had already taken the reins of this argument; ostensibly on our side.
“In short, I feel ill, professor.” The bat concluded. “Can you not see that? Can you not see the victims of the short-sighted ills of this wretched witch?” She raised her voice, feigning a growing fear, hidden disgustingly well behind a facade that swelled with theatrical confidence with each passing moment. “I am certain we all feel that same way. That we all find ourselves to be victims, our auras marred, our senses frazzled, our manafields nipped by the unseemly actions of this—”
FWOMP FWOMP FWOMP!
The cavalry had arrived.
And it wasn’t at all what any of us had expected.
“The only thing bruised, battered, or remotely injured for that matter, is the ego and reputation of a certain midlands Satyr, now resting easy within the medical wing!” He announced with a swoosh of his cape… a cape with colors, decorations, and a trim he clearly hadn’t started out with when we first entered the hall. “May I, professor?” The Vunerian turned to Chiska expectantly, and much to the shatorealmer’s chagrin, received an affirmative nod granting him the floor. “For those who do not know me, greetings. Greetings, and a merry salutations, to all who now can say they have bore witness to a living legend in the making. To those who do know me, I bring great tidings, and an even greater change in my position, status, and honors, all owing to my unchallenged victory over a frankly quarrelsome upper yearsman. A victory drawn from a duel of the fates, stemming from a disparagement of honor.”
The scene had shifted so thoroughly.
Or more accurately, the mood, vibe, and overall tone of the crowd, had completely transformed in one swift, ego-driven motion.
What had once been a crowd close to forming around the rallying cry of a bat with an agenda, was now entranced by the entrance of a dashing scaly noble who despite his disadvantage in height, had more than made up for it for the presence of his submissive mount, and the flashiness of an entrance drenched in lore.
A lore that now stood at odds with the false-victimhood of a bat with a deep-seated agenda.
Both were still fresh on everyone’s minds.
Both were very much still capable of dictating the direction of the proverbial ship’s sails.
And yet… one of those winds overpowered the other.
The far stronger gale, one that promised not just targeted hate towards a 1-second incident, but drama, stories, and thus hot gossip material for a student body of nobles who practically lived off the stuff, naturally won out.
And its progression was nothing short of utterly satisfying to watch.
“What exactly was this disagreement about?” A voice suddenly broke through the calculated silence.
Airit’s eyes narrowed at the small student in question, her gaze carrying a piercing venom, as if silently questioning the audacity of the person for encroaching on her moment.
“Wait, was that Count Ysayvis? Was he the quarrelsome satyr?” Another voice, a deeper, resonant one, joined in shortly thereafter.
Her head twisted sharply towards the second yearman, this time with a look of growing concern, as if finding her grip on a cliff face slipping.
“Just wait a moment, how did you, a first-year, manage to outperform and completely defeat a second-year?!” Another, softer voice, came in to join the fray, though it would be this one to really stir the pot Ilunor had cooked up.
Something finally cracked in Airit’s facade following that question, as if she knew that her time, her entire gambit, was up.
“It’s simple, really. Almost laughable when one takes even the most cursory look into my credentials.” Ilunor began with a raise of his finger. A finger that Airit was now watching powerlessly in frustration. “I am a drake rider.”
Half of the crowd gasped in varying degrees of shock, surprise, and amazement. The other half, however, seemed only half-impressed.
Though they watched on regardless of what first appearances may dictate.
Ilunor had the crowd in the literal palm of his hand. Airit, meanwhile, seemed to struggle to find another entry into this conversation, one that was fast leaving her behind.
“What could have possibly compelled Count Ysayvis to such a sorry state of affairs? What even triggered this entire incident, Lord Rularia?” Another voice, this time from a student who easily faded into the background of any interaction — none other than Kamil Lyonn — entered the fray.
“What a thoughtful question!” Ilunor answered with a growing grin… a surprising feat, given how he’d already maxed out that smug look the moment he started yapping. “Well you see, it was an act of unprovoked derision. An abrupt and completely unprompted comment on the nature of the culinary arts. Or more specifically, whether my attempt to physically participate in the act of cooking, was in a way, beneath my station, or in the man’s own words: ‘a debasement of my social standing and personal honor as a noble’.”
The crowd erupted into a series of shocked guffaws, some genuine, others merely miming their peers.
All of which served to drown Airit out to the point where her mask finally dropped, and all I saw was a growing fury simmering behind those orange eyes.
“It is an argument as old as time, one with no answer, but with likewise no place for arguments; lest one wishes simply to stir the pot for the sake of causing cheap—” Ilunor paused, if only momentarily, staring confidently at Airit. “—low-hanging, uninspired, and frankly trite drama.”
It was subtle.
But it was effective.
Nobody batted an eye at Ilunor’s double-handed insult, one to his latest enemy, and the other, to our collective one.
“The man challenged my honor. And so, we agreed to settle this dispute in any way we deemed fit. He postured himself as a drake rider in all but name, carefully skirting around the title for he did not earn such an honor. Whilst I confidently called him out on such a foolhardy bluff. The results are as you see here today, a sorry display of foolishness, but a great day for yours truly.” The little thing beamed. And for once… I couldn’t help but to smile behind my helmet in appreciation of his ego-stroking antics.
Especially as I saw Airit finally, and abruptly, leaving the scene to the cheers, whispers, and nods of a crowd entranced by Ilunor’s storytelling antics.
What followed… was nothing short of chaos, but perhaps everything the blue Vunerian had hoped to gain from this night.
We had a chance to stop him, of course; to pull him down from his high horse to join us back at the dorms.
We, however, elected to grant him this moment of pride.
Professor Chiska seemed to agree with this notion, standing side by side Ilunor as she too told of her part in these antics, especially as the conversation gave way to more esoteric talks on the nature of drakes, their temperament, and the harsh realities of drake riding; including its sheer difficulty to master as an artform.
With the crisis… surprisingly averted, we moved wordlessly along the paths up and out of that whole debacle.
Silence once more descended, but not before we rounded another corner, as I took this advantage to broach Thacea about what just happened.
“Thacea? Are you alright? I know you must feel—”
“I am quite alright, Emma, thank you.” She nodded slowly. “That incident was… entirely my own doing.” We eventually came to a standstill, beneath the shade of a tree in a relatively quiet corner of the hall. “I have grown somewhat… less guarded over the weeks, clearly to my own detriment. And for that I apologize.” She dipped her head slightly, garnering both the raising of Thalmin and my own hands.
“Thacea, that’s not what I’m—”
“This incident should not have happened.” Thacea continued unabated. “But in circumstances such as these, it becomes… difficult not to keep the reflexive instincts of the unbidden hidden beneath my magical acumen.”
“The whole incident lasted scarcely a few seconds, Thacea.” Thalmin spoke. “All things considered, you managed to recover from that expertly, seamlessly transitioning to a spell that none other within that crowd was brave enough to even attempt. You are a talented mage, and a gifted one at that.”
“Am I? Perhaps.” Thacea acquiesced. “But that does not detract from today’s… misgivings.”
“These so-called ‘misgivings’ were seen as what they were by Professor Chiska, Thacea. A result of genuine talent, skill, and bravery. You faced an incoming tragedy in the face and refused to buckle or bend. That’s more than what most people can say, including every single student on that street.” I spoke confidently, garnering a slight raise of one of Thacea’s brows.
“That’s an incredibly generous interpretation, Emma.” She spoke softly. “Though to be fair, even if the drake had crushed many, it would at worst have merely resulted in the first death of all present. If it had crushed you, however… there’s… no recovering you from first death, is there?”
That statement completely changed everything, underpinning the sequence of events with another layer of thought I hadn’t even considered.
Did she just go through all of that, reflexively at that, all with that consideration in mind?
I…
I didn’t know how to respond.
“That’s… genuinely beyond thoughtful of you Thacea, thank you.” I began. “But please, you don’t have to go out of your way to put yourself out there like that for me alright? I can handle my own! And I especially don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
“Perhaps.” Thacea nodded deeply. “But your constant… misadventures most certainly do not help alleviate my concerns for your well-being, Emma.” Thacea retorted, though this time, I could feel a slight slyness to her voice, an indication that we were back on course to normalcy, as further hinted at by our pace picking back up.
“Hey, I said I’d try working on it, right? And I’ve gotten better over the past week!” I countered teasingly, eliciting a wordless smile, right as we chose to cut through an ‘alley’ way en route to the exit.
…
We probably should’ve avoided it.
Because it was my turn to be drawn towards a club I had no interest in prior.
The whole facade of this side-structure could be described in one word — derelict.
In fact, if it wasn’t for the ‘OPEN’ sign glowing and blinking, I could’ve mistaken it for a renovation project in progress.
But that wasn’t what drew me in.
It was the sign above that prompted me to take those first few tentative steps through that front door.
A sign that seemed hard-pressed on deciding exactly what it wanted to say.
Celestography
Veilcraft
Astromancy
The first two were crossed out.
And above that, were multiple more half-written, half-scraweled, and completely blacked-over names that stretched up high into a sign that had no business being so tall.
It was that last name however that resonated with me.
A name that seemed too eerily similar to—
“Oh well hello there, Lords, Ladies, Majesties, and all good folk of this fine academic establishment!” A very pale elf suddenly popped into frame, having quite literally crawled up from beneath the floorboards through a trap door that wouldn’t have seemed out of place in a haunted mansion.
We all recoiled from that sudden introduction, but settled down quickly enough, especially as we found ourselves towering over the smaller woman.
“Ah! Where are my manners! I am the one and only Lady Luvinarias Lovguard! Fourth year student, and current chairwoman of his fine club!”
To which Thalmin narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms in the process. “I… had not seen a single mention of such a club within the syllabus, or manifest.”
“Ah! Yes. We… we were only approved three… maybe four days ago, as a final addition, part of our rather eclectic and frankly niche field of study.”
I raised a brow, and so did both Thacea and Thalmin, as they both were now as interested in this weird little place as I was.
“What exactly is this field of study, pray tell?” Thalmin pressed on.
“Don’t tell me it has something to do with the study of stars!” I beamed, finally showing my hand, and causing the small woman in front of me to light up in excitement.
The eyes behind her thick rimmed glasses grew to practically encompass their whole circumference, as her mouth suddenly opened wordlessly in a fit of excitement.
“Oh! Oh dear oh my! A-are you likewise interested in our actual studies?!” She beamed to the tune of a series of excitable tapping feet.
“Erm… why wouldn’t I be? I assume you’d have to be interested in a club to gain entry, right?”
“Ah. Yes. That’s how it should be on paper.” Another voice from behind the counter of this rickety establishment sounded, yawning in the process, his face hidden behind a magazine. “But this club only managed to be resurrected courtesy of there being enough students to participate. Most, therefore, join just to have an alibi on their record just in case they wish to excuse themselves from—”
“AHEM!” Luvinarias interrupted with a loud rebuttal, resulting in both silence and a shrug of the man’s shoulders, as she quickly turned back to me with a far more reserved smile this time around.
“While the truth of the matter may be as our dear Club Secretary has so bluntly proclaimed…” She shot the man a glare, even in spite of the magazine covering his face. “The fact of the matter is that we aren’t just a shell club! We are involved in fascinating, and dare I say it, revolutionary studies overlooked by many adjacent mages, and especially by the Nexian mages due to this being an entirely adjacent affair!”
“A study that could be best described as a roll of the dice and superstitions rather than actual scholarship.” The ‘secretary’ noted, garnering yet another side-eye.
“So… you do study the stars? As in, looking up at the skies, in an attempt to understand celestial bodies and such?” I attempted to clarify, though this only caused the elf to excitedly gesture for us to follow.
We did, of course, descending down the fairly solid spiral staircase and into an underground chamber that seemed to stretch on for forever.
“You guys built all of this in 3-4 days?” I questioned.
“Oh, his eternal graces, no! This was always here! You see, our club has had a long and storied history, though because of our… unpredictable membership count, we often find ourselves having to shutter our doors one too many times. The last shuttering was about a half century ago, so you’re very lucky to have caught us in your first year!” She beamed, as we finally reached the bottom of this large, open space.
A space that was entirely dark, and painted black for that matter, but one that held a lot of promise if my guesses to its nature were right…
Could this actually be a planetarium?
I held my breath, waiting for the elf to continue on her fit of theatrics, as she now stood at the center of it all, and raised both of her arms wide in either direction.
“My lords and ladies, majesties and highnesses, may I introduce to you… the art of Astromancy!”
The entire ceiling lit up all at once in a flurry of lights. Small, barely perceptible dots, joining into a beautiful array of clusters, groupings, and finally, into shapes that formed constellations.
They were all entirely foreign constellations of course, but that only added to their beauty, their novelty, and of course, my excitement on this whole unexpected development.
I just couldn’t stop grinning.
Now this was my sort of club.