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Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (143/?) Revised Version 1
🕑 Added 2025-09-06 21:40:25 +0000 UTCAuthor’s Note: Hey everyone! There’s only been a few edits in this one but as always I’d recommend you guys give this another read through! :D Most of the edits were simply done to improve on the flow, with a few bits and pieces rephrased here and there! Most of the edits, as always, were done to correct for grammar or spelling mistakes, and of course, punctuation and such! :D As always, all of the edits are highlighted with underlines in order to tell what’s been revised! :D
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Dragon Heart’s Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 1900 Hours
Thacea
Scratch.
Flip.
Scribble.
Riiiiip.
These were the sounds that had dominated much of the evening.
In place of the boisterous energy of the ever-unpredictable Emma or the confrontational yet friendly approaches of the constantly contemplative Thalmin, there now existed silence.
A silence interrupted exclusively by the clerical sounds of our academic endeavors.
I expected Ilunor to have remained locked within his quarters or to have perhaps cordoned off a section of the living room to himself. His cries for privacy and his desire for ‘peace and quiet’ had dominated every other conversation over much of the previous few weeks, after all. Which meant that this was very much the golden opportunity to make the most out of this lull in action, to isolate and preoccupy himself with the finer pleasures in life, free from any possibility of interruption or distractions.
Yet here he was, partaking in my company — albeit without conversation — and ruminating in the same silence that had once seemed impossible just a day prior.
Perhaps it was simply because he knew I lacked the incentive and motivation to disrupt his personal endeavors.
Or perhaps he simply enjoyed the larger and more spacious appointments of the living room itself.
Whatever it was, we maintained this company-in-silence, aware of either party’s presence, yet acting as if neither existed.
It was… darkly comforting, or more accurately — darkly reminiscent of what I knew.
To be present but not seen.
Emma’s company was the one rare instance in which this status quo was broken, and perhaps my disquieting overawareness of what should have been ‘normal’ meant that I’d simply grown too accustomed to our… arrangements and the ‘new normal’ which grew to fill a void I’d otherwise long since ignored.
I had to remind myself that such a lifestyle was simply unsustainable. I had to temper my resolve in the understanding that this was perhaps the best I could expect once these five years were said and done.
The silence spurred on some much-needed self-reflection and — for the first time in a long time brought on thoughts I did not wish to ponder — eventually landing on those prophetic words from Thalmin on our first day.
‘Just don’t let the Earthrealmer become your anchor, Princess.’
This disruption in what was our new status quo brought that sentiment back to the forefront… and I couldn’t help but to wonder if there was indeed some credence to the lupinor’s premature warnings.
…
But I refused to ponder such matters. At least, not when I could actually enjoy silence for silence’s sake. And so, I pushed forwards, flipping through textbook after textbook and tome after tome, jotting down, writing, and preemptively completing homework that was due to be assigned in several weeks’ time.
Scribble.
Scratch.
Flip.
Consumed by thoughts and preoccupied by studies, I found myself inexplicably disregarding Ilunor’s increasingly restless motions. Barely even registering the dropping of his quill, his attempts at ‘heavy’ footsteps, and his perusal of the endless line of snack carts that had now formed a sort of traffic deadlock in our room. I’d only registered his presence on the sofa following the heavy thump of his tail onto the adaptive cushioning of the upholstery.
And even then, not a word nor glance was exchanged.
Our mutual silence was poised to continue, as the Vunerian pulled out a notebook and began scribbling across its pages.
Scribble.
Scribble.
Flip.
The clerical duet surged forwards ceaselessly into the night.
Until finally—
SLAM!!
It all came to a sudden and abrupt halt.
I finally turned to face the Vunerian, my eyes holding within them neither contempt nor complacency, but merely a polite and questioning glance that seemed to incite further frustration within the Nexian noble.
“Princess.” Ilunor addressed me politely.
“Ilunor.” I responded with the same courtesy.
Yet despite our opening overture, neither of us seemed poised for conversation, as even Ilunor shifted his gaze, turning to the window as if he’d find some prompts for a topic outside.
“Pleasant weather we’re having.” He finally continued.
“Indeed. Though given it is the Nexus, I assume it is pleasant for all eternity, no?”
“One would think. But there are the rare exceptions, especially for the Outlands as you might expect.”
“Being on the territorial extent of the Farlands, I can imagine turbulent primavalic energies, or new manasprings and similar such mana-based geological features would probably interfere with nth-tier spells and infrastructure designed to control the weather.”
“Quite. Though one must also consider the direct impact turbulent and concentrated manastreams have on the weather in general.”
“Yes, yes. Quite.” I nodded as the both of us stared at each other in varying degrees of rehearsed politeness.
…
Only for it to slowly crumble from the inside, as evidenced by the vacantness behind both of our gazes and the lack of anything behind the thin veneer of earnestness therein.
“It occurs to me that we are both…” Ilunor trailed off, his eyes and even his tone of voice urging me to complete his thoughts.
“—choosing to fill the vacant air with the most banal and cliche of choruses from our conversational repertoire?" I obliged, garnering a sigh of equal parts frustration and relief from the Vunerian.
“Quite.” He acknowledged assertively.
We broke our gazes once more, each of us darting our eyes this way and that, before collectively sighing to varying degrees of breathy discontent.
“It is evident that we have a sore lack of… rapport, princess. At least as it pertains to rapport of the direct variety.”
I cocked my head ever so slightly, crossing my legs as I did so. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, princess.” Ilunor shot back instantly. “Let us not lose ourselves in our own games. Though if it must be spelled out, then so be it. Princess, I believe that in our constant sprint from crisis to crisis, we have woefully overlooked our bilateral interpersonal connections. We have instead offloaded that ever-vital component of a strong and resilient peer group, to the more vocal, forward, and at times crass members of our little troupe. We — as the more studious and refined amidst our peers — have been sidelined and kept at arm’s length. Perhaps it is time that we break this mold and start now, yes?”
I stared at the Vunerian bluntly, my eyes finally allowing its facade to crumble as I now leveled an unamused gaze to lock firmly with Ilunor’s draconic set.
“Perhaps you mistook my query for anything other than rhetorical. So allow me to spell it out.” I crossed my wings, closing the book within my talons with a firm SNAP! “Need I remind you that until very recently, the only reason for this lack of bilateral interpersonal connection wasn’t the fault of any of our adventures, crises, or even our respective places in this group dynamic. It was solely and exclusively a result of your insistence on conflating the nature of my affliction with the content of my character. The lack of rapport was not the fault of any extraneous circumstances, but instead wholly and entirely your own doing, Ilunor.”
I felt my whole body tensing at the tail end of that retort. My talons trembled in place, as it felt like the carefully constructed social barriers I’d meticulously and religiously maintained had shattered in one fell swoop.
But this wasn’t without precedent. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t partaken in such verbal assaults before.
The only difference was that this time, I was being far, far too blunt with my assault.
Perhaps Emma’s sensibilities were rubbing off on me too much.
This reaction, however, wasn’t limited to myself but likewise extended to Ilunor. The Vunerian’s features shifted from outright shock to indignant rage and finally to something that resembled contemplation.
“I…” He paused, pondering — or more specifically forcing out — the next few words in his gaping maw. “I see.” He halted himself, as if worried if the words currently embroiled between his maw and mind would result in physical injury if let loose. “I retroactively rescind all previous sentiments, and retract any statements that may have led you to this conclusion.”
This response — surprisingly more impactful than any of the Vunerian’s words prior to this instance — pulled me out of my growing anxieties, replacing everything with the purest form of disbelief. However, the novelty of the Vunerian’s sentiments and the shock it incurred did not blind me to its half-measures.
The response was not without its omissions — most notably of all being a lack of any pointed apology.
But when Ilunor’s ego and personality were put into consideration, it was clear that this was perhaps the closest I could hope to come to such a blatant admission of guilt or remorse. To have a Nexian formally retract past slights was already nigh inconceivable, after all.
However, despite the milestone, I remained adamant on neither acknowledging nor dismissing it. At least until such a time when a complete acknowledgement of remorse was given.
This ushered in yet another wave of silence. One that was eventually filled by the tired sighs of the Vunerian. “So… I don’t suppose you like orchestral improvisation?”
=====
The Township of Sips. Lord Protector’s Town Hall. The Lordship’s Private Offices. Local Time: 2000 Hours.
Emma
Thalmin was practically dead.
His body lay limp in his chair, propped up by force of will alone, whilst a quill remained tightly bound to his hand, poised to sign off on form after form of seemingly endless paperwork.
I’d taken the reins of the operation with the EVI acting as my virtual lawyer, ensuring that each and every page of this multi-stack all-star team of legalese was tackled in the most efficient yet thorough of methods.
It was the least I could do, especially after seeing the coming and going of healers that had tended to the surprising number of bruises and wounds scattered about Thalmin’s form.
However, after going through nearly three-fourths of the paperwork, a change of tune finally descended on the otherwise lackluster four hours. One marked by an offhanded remark by L’Sips.
“And this will be your acknowledgement of the Kelpie’s fate. Set to be put down tomorrow by noon.”
This… was enough to pull Thalmin out of his thousand-yard stare. His eyes first grew wide in shock, followed by a baring of his fangs as he leaned forwards menacingly.
“Unacceptable.” Was all he said, taking a page out of one of Ilunor’s catchphrases, but in a manner that was far more intimidating than what the blue thing could ever hope to muster.
“You wish to challenge this decision, Prince Havenbrock?” L’Sips responded, completely unfazed by Thalmin’s posturing.
“Yes.”
“On what grounds?”
“Ownership.” Thalmin stated bluntly. “I defeated it. I rode it. I broke it.” He chose his words carefully, getting right to the point without fuss or fluff. “I own it.”
“And, if I may?” I raised a hand, hoping to act as the prince’s wingman. “I’m not sure how it works here in the Nexus, but given how it was gallivanting without any oversight or ownership? Well… I think that’s grounds for negligent ownership and therefore outright abandonment by its original owners. Or, if it’s completely wild, well… we do have a temporary warrant granted to us as students of the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts—”
“For land and wildlife, yes. I know.” L’Sips interrupted me with a raise of his hand, his head darting lazily back and forth between the both of us now.
He sighed deeply, shaking his head now before landing a surprisingly stern gaze on Thalmin. “You are eligible for ownership. Though I must warn you…” His tone grew darker as he leveled page upon uncompromising page of new documents at the both of us. “Failure to keep this beast under control, and any damages this beast incurs following your ownership, will result in you — the owner — being liable to the greatest and fullest extent of prosecution and punishment by Nexian — not Academy, nor adjacent — law. Do you understand this—” He paused, slamming a stack of paper in front of Thalmin for added effect. “—Prince Havenbrock?”
The pair stared off for what felt like minutes; meanwhile, I took the opportunity to have the EVI look through the papers, scanning them with a speed that put L’Sips’ clerical efficiencies to shame.
It took a few more minutes to compile an analysis and even more minutes to discuss the finer details of the contract between L’Sips and Thalmin. However, by the end of it, the pair had agreed to a signature and a handshake, something that seemed to bother the elf at first but an act that he went through with anyway.
The whole debacle had taken nearly an hour more out of my life, and by that point, I still had more of the original stacks to deal with.
Throughout it all and rather surprisingly so, L’Sips had remained as glued to his station as I was. His eyes darted back and forth between my side of the paperwork and his own, as we seemed locked in this eternal duel of fates.
Though interestingly, unlike most contracts within the Academy, or even in Elaseer, these seemed to be barely magical in nature, with some even being non-magical in their entirety.
Most of the content was just… acknowledgements of the actions committed throughout the course of that fateful hour. Indeed, much of the stack consisted of outright repetitive forms detailing our actions and the ‘civic good deeds’ done. However, the sheer bulk of the documents wasn’t because of any overtly verbose detailing of the events — at least, not entirely.
Instead, much of the sheer quantity resulted from the fact that each form was individualized.
Meaning that every single person we saved, and every person present at the pond, had their own stack of paperwork. Even if it was quite literally the same text copy pasted with just their names swapped out.
It was mind-numbing, and to say that I’d had enough by the time we’d reached the final few stacks was an understatement.
“And that should be the last of it.” L’Sips spoke with an exasperated breath, fanning himself with at least ten floating magical hand fans, while snapping his fingers for an army of secretaries to ferry away enough kindling for a winter’s worth of heat.
“If I may, Lord L’Sips?” I asked, my voice drenched with exhaustion.
“Go ahead.”
“What’s with all the paperwork? This seems excessive even by my standards.” I paused, shuddering at the memory of the NDAs signed back home… “So tell me, why the whole song and dance? I didn’t think a noble would care enough about each individual citizen under their purview to keep this many tabs.”
“You are correct, Cadet Booker. I don’t ‘care’.” He began bluntly. “I’m invested in my commoners. I do not care for their personal lives, their family affairs, or what petty disputes or drama that may arise, so long as it does not affect the contractual obligations and the expectant decorum between noble and peasant. However, you would likewise be correct in assuming that such… clerical measures would be seen by many as excessive, if not extreme, in certain eyes. For you see, I am both a man of preparedness and opportunity. Should some goldthorn arise to audit my happenings? I shall bequeath upon them enough physical affidavits to drown a small child.”
The noble paused, as if catching himself mid-thought. “Pardon the unfortunate figure of speech.” He cleared his throat before continuing on seamlessly.
“And should damage be inflicted upon my assets and the assets of my tenants? I shall have enough weight of evidence to tip the scales of any legal proceedings in the quest for reimbursement.”
He stood up proudly, as if excited to finally be able to share in his unique perspective. “Other nobles may find my methods eccentric, but when the auditors come to collect, it is I who will be laughing.” L’Sips spoke ecstatically, his back turned to us with his gaze now peeking through the curtains of his office. “You two will share in the boons of my foresight.” He added with a menacing undertone. “Tonight.”
=====
The Township of Sips. Lord Protector’s Town Square. Local Time: 2030 Hours.
Emma
We found ourselves shuffling through the modest corridors of the town hall, flanked by guards and ushered by L’Sips himself.
The sounds of hushed yet audible murmurs grew louder and louder the closer we got to the main doors of the hall, and with it came a gnawing wariness that prompted both Thalmin and I to tightly grip the hilts of both of our weapons.
Without much fanfare nor any dramatic prompting, L’Sips swung the white and gold double doors open, revealing a whispering and mumbling crowd shrouded in darkness stretching from the steps of the hall all the way across the perimeter of the town square.
Many held within their hands a torch of some kind, some held what appeared to be pitchforks, whilst others held what looked like tubes of various and inordinate shapes.
I held my breath, steeling my resolve, until suddenly, all the streetlights in the square lit up one by one, revealing faces once obscured by shadow.
Faces… filled with neither hate nor disdain, but instead glowing with smiles and barely contained cheers.
“THERE THEY ARE!” A kobold screamed out, pointing excitedly in our direction.
“ALL CHEER FOR THE SAVIORS OF MARSH’S POND!”
“Hip hip—”
They each held their pitchforks and tubes high—
“—HOORAY!”
—before letting loose bursts upon isolated bursts of isolated mana radiation spikes.
Ffffwwwwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeeee… BOOOOOOOOM!
The dark and starless sky was suddenly lit up by a brilliant display of magical firespears. As one by one and in rapid succession, ten distinct shots popped off, turning the darkened skies above temporarily into day with patterns that ranged from your typical chrysanthemum orbs to a few more complex arrangements ranging from tourbillons to comet trails.
I quickly turned to L’Sips, the elf’s visage had remained unchanged and unfazed, yet something behind those tired and bookish eyes signalled a sense of satisfaction.
“No need to thank me, Prince Havenbrock, Cadet Booker. This isn’t coming out of my purse.“ The noble’s lips crept into a grin as he adjusted his jacket. “In fact, you have the Crown to thank for the festivities tonight. All expenses — be they for repair, recovery, or even the most trifling of miscellaneous charges — are, by law, the responsibility of the party who instigated this disaster.”
“That being Elaseer… and with it being a Crown Herald town…” I trailed off, chuckling with satisfaction behind my helmet.
“Precisely, Cadet. Precisely.”
The cheers continued on louder and louder still as the guards were forced to make a path for us from the square to where we’d parked the V4c… and chained the kelpie to the ground.
“I’d assumed you had some sort of a speech prepared or something?” I turned to L’Sips with a cocked head.
“Speeches are for compulsory ceremonial occasions and important public announcements — of which there are already too many for my liking. I have no desire to waste my breath on the common folk should it be avoidable.” He spoke bluntly, not even bothering with any subtleties or euphemisms despite the crowds present. “In any case, I urge you to make your way to the Inn. I have taken the liberty of booking you a suite and a feast. It’s the least I can do besides this minor celebration.” He spoke out softly, in between even more cheers and hoots and hollers.
I recognized more than a handful of faces here, as family after family moved forwards to hand out flowers and money. The latter of which I vehemently pushed aside, shaking my head as I did so. “Please, save your money.”
“But your public service—”
“—was a public good.” I interjected, making my voice loud and clear with a little help from the suit’s speakers. “I don’t expect compensation for helping those in trouble. That’s seriously it, guys.” I announced to a growing crowd of fishermen and their families as we finally arrived at the V4c and the kelpie.
With bewildered eyes and confused expressions from those I’d just talked to, I quickly took a seat and watched as Thalmin mounted his nervous steed.
“But what of our reciprocal debts, my lady—”
“Consider it annulled and void.” I interrupted. “Just take it as a gesture of good faith with no strings attached. Earthrealm culture, if you will.” I offered, stirring up even greater confusion from the crowd.
“You may leave whenever you wish, Prince Thalmin, Cadet Booker. Though given the hour, I suggest you take up my offer of complimentary room and board. The innkeeper has already been informed.” L’Sips insisted. “Until we meet again… though preferably, without the kelpie.” He sighed as his carriage sped off.
This left both of us with a no-brainer decision.
“The Inn—”
“Ester’s Horse—”
We both spoke over each other, stopping midway, before gesturing for the other to continue.
“You were say—”
“You were—”
I paused, gesturing wildly now over the growing crowds. “You go first.”
“Right, well, we need a dedicated facility to keep the kelpie secure.” Thalmin explained.
“Alright. The horse emporium it is.” I acknowledged as we both surged forwards around the crowds.
=====
The Township of Sips. Ester’s Horse Emporium. Local Time: 2045 Hours.
Emma
The place looked objectively worse at night. With the formerly colorful sign looking ominous and downright creepy with one street light illuminating the smiling elf’s sun-bleached face.
Interestingly, there seemed to be a small addition to the sign that I hadn’t noticed before. One which read ‘We’re Open All Night!’ tacked onto a small railing at the bottom of the main sign.
Both signs seemed identical, save for the bright and sunny skies replaced with a dark and starless night, along with a rather peculiar outfit change for the smiling elf. As instead of the typical farmer getup, her ‘night’ version was depicted wearing some sort of cutesy hoodie patterned and designed to playfully resemble that of a horse.
Huh.
We approached the service counter once again, this time using the kelpie’s front hoof to ring the bronze-plated call bell.
Ding ding ding!
This noise was enough to stir some of the nearby horses awake.
But unlike her charges, it took a whole minute for a groan to emerge from the backroom. Esther yawned and rubbed both of her eyes, marching forward in what looked to be the exact same outfit as shown on the sign; an oversized horse onesie, perky ears and all.
“Ugh… wel-come—” Yaaaawwwwnnnn… “—to Ester’s Horse Emporium, where our steeds’ might can—” Yaaawwwwwwwwwnnnnn “—last through the night… How can I… saddle you up—” She opened her eyes, only to come within a foot of a snorting kelpie dripping droplet after droplet of murky water onto the bare oak of the front desk.
“—to-n-night…” She stuttered out, her eyes practically bulging out of her sockets as she took a few steps back, tripped against some loose horseshoes, and simply fell over unconscious.
Both Thalmin and I quickly turned to one another in silence, but before I could hop off to help the poor girl, some hurried footsteps emerged from the backrooms.
“What’s all this commotion about, Esther? Esther?! Come on, Esther, tend to our dear clients with some professionalis—” Another elf emerged, one practically identical to Esther save for the countless nicks, scars, and bruises on her arms and face. “OH BY MAJESTY’S EYES, IS THAT THERE A REAL-LIFE KELPIE?!” She squealed, tiptoeing in place as she looked around excitedly. “I’m Ester! You’ve probably met my sister, Esther. Speaking of… Esther? Esther, come on! You gotta see—”
“Ahem.” I cleared my throat, gesturing to an unconscious Esther by Ester’s feet.
“UGH! Not again, Esther! You can’t just pass out at the sight of anything even remotely mythical!”
“Ma’am… with all due respect, I think she needs a healer.” I offered, and just about expected a laugh track to spool up.
=====
The Township of Sips. The Inn. Local Time: 2110 Hours.
Emma
With the kelpie now secured behind magically treated walls, but left potentially helpless to the whims of an overenthusiastic stablemaster, we made our way to the one and only Inn in town.
There, we finally found a moment to catch both of our breaths, as we both turned to one another with exhausted eyes and self-assured smiles beneath the canopy of the front door’s entrance.
“Two monsters in a row.” I began with a sly smile.
“All in a week’s worth for a Havenbrockian prince.” Thalmin yawned out cockily.
“Is that accounting for the dragon in a few day’s time?” I jabbed back, resting an armored hand against a cocked armored hip.
Thalmin responded by baring his fangs, resting a hand on one of the front porch’s pillars. “Did you hear me stutter, Emma?”
With a shrug from me and another boisterous pat on the back from Thalmin, we eventually pushed both doors open, hoping to meet some sort of a warm and cozy reception.
Inside, we were greeted to a weird mishmash of architecture. With the left half of the open space seemingly dedicated to a more upscale establishment, though on a much tighter budget than that of anything found in Elaseer. Granite lined the floors instead of the typical marble, with walls clad in plastered brick and decorated in copper trim. The whole place gave off a sort of… pseudo steampunk-y Victorian vibe, though without any of the steampunk-y tech, of course.
The right side of the room, however, was much more what you’d expect out of a small-town inn, with stained oakwood floors and a raised area where a bar stretched from one side of the wall to the other. Barrels upon barrels of ale were stacked behind the counter, with many more fine wine selections as well as liquors lining a smaller, more exclusive section of the bar.
Our entry, marked by the little Ding Ding Ding of the bells above the door, brought the business of either side of the inn to a complete and utter standstill once their gazes settled on the both of us.
Nobody spoke, as the murmurs from within died down.
The awkward dead air however couldn’t last forever, as what looked to be the hotel manager finally stepped up, marching his way across the wood and granite floors to welcome us with a deep and heavy bow. “Your majesty. On behalf of The Inn, I would like to welcome you to our open banquet. Compliments of Lord L’Sips and the proprietors of The Inn.”
Thalmin’s eyes scanned the buffet table located on the recently refurbished left side of the room before turning to the tavern on the right wing.
“Drinks are also on the house, your majesty.” The slick-haired elf added politely.
That little comment sparked something of a watershed moment behind the lupinor’s eyes as he turned to the busy and mumbling patrons of the tavern before locking eyes once more with the hotel manager. “Are you sure about that?”
“Y-yes, your majesty. Why wouldn’t I be—”
Thalmin was quick to make his moves, taking large strides towards our banquet table, and grabbing the largest tankard of ale he could find on it.
“MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE!” He yelled out, directing his attention towards the tavern half of the room.
This elicited the gaze of many a character, from your hooded roguish tradesperson, to a group of traveling bards, to what appeared to be a quartet of adventurers slowly stacking what few pieces of copper they had, resulting in a paltry pile raised barely two inches off the table.
All eyes landed on Thalmin, as all waited in varying states of confusion or frustration.
“FREE ALE FOR EVERYONE!”
Thalmin’s words reverberated across a deathly silent room, as the faces of each and every patron united in a sea of utterly awestruck slack-jawed gasps.
The eyes of a collective room lit up, and soon—
“YEAAAAAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
—the tavern went wild.
Hoots and hollers held the formerly dead air in a stranglehold, whilst wails and the immediate call for drinks caused even the most poker-faced of employees to wallow in fear.
What happened next was something I hadn’t at all expected from Thalmin. But upon thinking about it for longer than a second, it just made sense.
“Well? What are you waiting for, Emma? Care for a drink?” He grinned wildly as he began chugging down the first of what I assumed would be many tankards of ale that night.
Comments
Destinum
Anyone else not able to see any underlined text? Is Patreon experiencing the same bug it did a little while ago?
Brachy LP
it was a PERCIEVED Hour for Emma, As Paperwork tends to Warp time
Tainted_But_Thriving
Celebration happening at 2030 hours is inconsistent. Papers were at 2000 hours and the ownership stack was stated to take another hour, with more paperwork to go. Recommend revision
