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Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (140/?) Revised Version 1
🕑 Added 2025-08-16 22:04:36 +0000 UTCAuthor’s Note: Hey everyone! There’s only been a few edits in this one! With most of the edits being done to improve the vibe and the flow of the scenes here and there a bit more! The largest of them is probably Emma’s justification for helping out Solizia! There’s also been the typical grammar and spelling edits, but that’s about it for this one! :D As always, all of the revised sections are highlighted with an underline to easily see what’s been revised! :D
Thirty minutes.
That’s all fate needed.
That’s all the time we had before our lives became inexplicably intertwined.
Whether by the cold and callous hands of statistical probability rearing its ugly head in the form of dumb coincidence, or whether it was actually fate, the end result remains the same.
That fateful night, those thirty minutes, it was all it took for the lives of so many to be turned upside down.
From family to business and all those caught in the crossfire, my presence had led to this — the disruption of livelihoods and aspirations.
I didn’t like Lartia. Not one bit, not especially after he showed his colors.
But did he deserve to die?
I can’t say.
Because it’s neither my right nor prerogative to judge.
What I do know, however, is that those under his ‘care’, employ, or whatever you might call it… they all didn’t deserve the ramifications of his death.
A familiar feeling of gross negligence, of personal responsibility started welling up within me again.
A strong sense of uncompromising culpability, even if it was misplaced, blanketed my very being.
The highs of victory and the calmness that came with our triumph over the vorpal chimera — all of it — was smothered by this cold and gut-churning feeling.
This feeling of complete and utter guilt.
What made it worse, however, was that I was staring straight into Solizia’s eyes all the while; eyes which were currently filled with gratitude, gratefulness, and a sense of indebtedness.
I didn’t feel worthy of any of it.
…
But this wasn’t the time to feel bad for myself.
If you screw up, own it. There’s always time for self-reflection, but try not to cross the boundary between moping and inaction. Call me a bit old fashioned for it, Emma, or call it whatever you will. Just know that in life, you’ve gotta own your mistakes by making it up to those that you owe.
I needed to make things right.
With a deep breath and a steadying hand, I quickly turned towards Thalmin.
His features, whilst lacking the guilt-ridden expression I wore, still betrayed a slight surprise that came with the Lord Lartia revelation.
We exchanged a knowing glance, or at least that’s how I saw it, because not a single word of explanation was exchanged before he gave me a small nod — signalling a go-ahead for whatever it was I had in store next.
“Solizia.” I began with a dour breath.
“Yes, Sir Knight?”
“I…” I paused, my mind wracking with indecision.
At least, that was the case until I spotted Etholin’s little unopened gift pouch strapped to one of my travel packs.
A lightbulb moment hit me.
And I chose action instead of a stream of empty platitudes.
“Have you ever considered working for an adjacent realmer?”
This question prompted a raise then a furrowing of the man’s brows, as if he wasn’t at all expecting this non-sequitor of a half-offer.
“Erm, I apologize Sir Knight. But the life of a porter is perhaps beyond my skills, capabilities, and experience. The fact I also have a son makes it such that this… adventurous lifestyle wouldn’t at all fit my current—”
“Oh, no. That’s not what I was asking.” I quickly shot the man’s concerns down with two open palms. “We’re not in the market for porters. So I was just asking in general if you guys — being Nexian locals — would ever consider working for an adjacent realmer in the same capacity that you were under Lord Lartia.”
This clarification caused a clear shift in the man’s expressions, his eyes narrowing at the prospects. “As… carters under contract?”
“Yeah! Erm, I’m not exactly sure how adjacent noble business would work in the Nexus, but I do have a friend who seems to be operating a business out of Elaseer — a specialty store of some kind. So as with any store, I’m assuming there has to be some sort of logistics involved in stocking inventory, right?” I turned to Thalmin who merely furrowed his brows and shrugged blankly in my direction.
“Erm, regardless! I’m sure he’ll have some sort of a role for you! And from the way you’ve described it, being employed by a noble sure beats going indie, right?”
That point of further clarification drove the man into even deeper thought, his eyes bouncing back and forth between me and Thalmin.
“I suppose it would.” He acknowledged. “And though there might be certain naysayers over the idea of Nexians — commoners as we may be — taking up contractual employment under an adjacent merchant house… such social stigmas are outweighed by the practical boons of being under contract. Namely, the guarantee of a steady source of income.”
A smile grew across my face as I turned to Thalmin—
“However—”
—though this was tempered as quickly as it arose.
“—I doubt this will elevate us out of our physical travails."
I cocked my head in confusion before it finally hit me.
“You’ll still be locked out of the transportium network because Adjacent Realmers don’t have access to it…” I reasoned out loud.
“That will most likely be the case, yes.” Solizia acknowledged with a nod as I readied my spirits for another nosedive.
“But of course… I am not an elf to [look a gift horse in the mouth. 87.23% Accuracy.]” He explained to the tune of a working translation error. “I have [learned to wear my pride like a coat. 19.27% Accuracy.]” The translation continued, though this latter analogy left much to be desired.
The lack of an immediate response, or perhaps the slip of Low Nexian, quickly clued Solizia into the conversation’s climax being lost in translation; prompting the elf to quickly clarify.
“Which is to say, my pride is of least concern now. Only to be worn after first being clothed in the undershirts of practicality.” He elaborated, prompting the EVI to let out an affirmative beep in response.
New esoteric colloquialism added to the [Working Language Database].
“I apologize, Sir Knight, I… may be becoming too much of a back tavern poet in my excitement.” He continued with a nervous laugh.
“So… can I take this as a yes, or do you need more time to think about it?” I responded softly.
The elf smiled softly in response, his eyes shifting momentarily towards the eerily empty night sky above, before once more locking eyes with my lenses.
“There is nothing to think about.” He stated bluntly. “Especially when the winds of fate have aligned with such poise and purpose. My answer is a resounding yes, Sir Knight.” The elf acknowledged with a deep dip of his head.
“It’s really alright, Solizia. Please, there’s no need for the whole song and dance.” I attempted to rebuff his display of deference with yet another set of raised hands. “Just contact me when you get back to Elaseer and I’ll hook you up with my guy.” I smiled warmly.
“Forgive my ignorance, Sir Knight, but in which manner shall I contact you?”
I instinctively reached for my tablet, only to be hit with that now familiar sensation that I’d trained hard to overcome — the familiarity of perpetual interconnectedness and the loss of connection to the greater infosphere.
It hadn’t really come up before, at least, not to this extent. Everyone who I needed to be in touch with was always in arm’s reach or a castle’s jog away.
It was only Rila that bucked this trend and even so, she offered that bracelet that more or less acted as a primitive stand-in for this sort of thing.
Solizia’s situation, however, was the first where I was faced with the widening of the world. Where distances actually felt like distances, not just vague suggestions to be overcome via a call, chat, or heck, even a ‘face to face’ virtual meetup.
Somehow, the challenges that came with this deceptively simple question felt more extreme than keeping in touch with the Lunarian and Spacer friends I made on that pilgrimage up to the moon.
This… fundamental systemic incongruency hit far harder than just being disconnected from the infosphere.
No.
This… this was well and truly the first time where I felt the sheer distances that we’d conquered being unraveled before my very eyes.
And it was here, in this moment, where I understood far better than any bland lecture or infographic could convey; why the GUN had always placed not just communications, but seamless interconnectedness, as a fundamental basic aspect of the P-MASLs.
Because without it… distances became not just a logistical barrier but a social barrier too.
“Maybe you could send us a letter to the Academy once you arrive?” I finally offered, my mind immediately going to the closest approximation for modern communications infrastructure that I knew Nexian commoners had access to.
But that thought was quickly shot down by the lupinor prince. “No. Despite the guarantee of privacy, the sheer presence of a letter from a Nexian commoner would raise suspicions, Emma.” Thalmin interjected.
“You’re right.” I acknowledged. “Then… what about those guys Ilunor has contacts with? The BOWmen or whatever it was?”
Solizia’s eyes widened as a shiver visibly ran down his spine. “If I may be so selfish to proclaim… I wish nothing to do with those types, Sir Knight.”
“Right…” I acknowledged with a sigh, before Thalmin simply came in with a rather straightforward answer.
“Why don’t we just have Solizia contact Lord Esila directly through his store?” He reasoned. “Have Etholin’s clerks be forewarned about Solizia’s arrival, and simply contact us that way.”
“Brilliant idea, Thalmin!” I responded with a glowing smile. “Right then! Solizia! Here’s what you’re going to do…”
The next few minutes were abound with a flurry of back and forth references to maps and names. Though thankfully, all of that was expedited by the aid of Solizia’s own experience with the town and his familiarity with basically all of the major shops, both in commoner town and in the noble quarter.
Eventually, we settled what back home would have just been a simple exchange of contact details.
And of course, came the awkward question as to—
“—why are you doing this, Sir Knight? You… have neither the incentive nor an obligation to do so. This is not a question of your moral imperative, nor your character, but merely a query.”
“And a pertinent one at that, I admit.” I acknowledged with a sigh.
A part of me wanted to spill the beans.
Another part of me, however, understood well the sorts of implications that would have on not only the ongoing investigation, but what tenuous ‘balance’ we had back at the Academy between the Dean and the Goldthorn.
Adding variable factors into the mix is the last thing on my agenda… I thought to myself.
Which meant that I simply had to walk around it, as best as I could.
“I just want to do what’s right. That’s… sort of how things work back home. Lending a helpful hand, pulling up our most vulnerable, lifting those who’ve fallen on rough patches. All of it’s just what we do. Well… at least most of us. But this especially applies to the sorts of folks in my position, and the oaths we swore to uphold the sanctity and dignity of human — er sapient — life.” I started earnestly. “And to those ends, please drop the whole life debt thing, alright? I… just want to set things right for you and your son’s life.”
Solizia went silent for a long while. His eyes were in pensive thought… though whatever responses he was contemplating would forever be his to know as he quickly dropped them with a sigh and a deep bow. “As you wish, Blue Knight. You have my utmost gratitude regardless.”
He sat there silently for a moment, before Thalmin sensed this and quickly dismissed the man with a flick of his wrist; the elf retired to his cart soon after.
A still silence filled the air after that, as the crackles of the campfire ushered in a new sense of calm.
A calm that was only possible after I’d at least attempted at fixing what I’d broken just by my mere arrival.
“What you did was brash and foolhardy.” Thalmin finally uttered out, his voice teetering on a stern lecture. “But oftentimes, that’s what doing the right thing entails.” He quickly changed his tune, letting out a small sigh all the while. “Thacea might have something else to say about this. I know Ilunor definitely would. But from my flawed and very biased perspective? You performed well in tonight’s act in the theater of life.” Thalmin cackled out, once more trying his hand at an Ilunor impersonation at the tail end of that compliment.
“Yeah, well… there was nothing much for me to risk here aside from the whole investigation thing.” I shrugged. “But that was easy enough to dodge.”
“Investigation? Oh, no. I meant to imply that to the eyes of most, you have just wasted a perfectly good reciprocal token on a random stranger. Er, a [favor card. 99.87% Accuracy.], as you once put it.”
It took me a moment to understand what Thalmin was getting at.
But once I realized it, I immediately facepalmed. “Ohhhhhh. Right… you mean to say I’ve used up my favors with Etholin because of this job recommendation thing?”
“Yes.” Was Thalmin’s only response.
“Right. Well… they say that money well spent is money you don’t regret spending… or at least I think that’s the ancient phrase for it.” I shrugged. “There’s always more social favors to be earned or whatnot. Might as well spend some on the stuff that matters.”
“Forgive me for saying this, Emma, but that phrase sounds like it emerged from the monarch of all spendthrifts.”
“Eh… say what you want about that era, but a heck of a lot of great phrases — many of them cautionary — came out of that period of time where many of those warnings did come to pass.” I shrugged. “But we eventually grew and learned from it, so that’s all well and good.”
“I see…” Thalmin’s eyes narrowed once more as he leaned in closer towards the fire and, by extension, towards me.
“You must tell me more of these times, Emma. In exchange for my own tales, of course. For as troubling as they were… I find all aspects of history to be insightful in their own right.” Thalmin spoke. The tone of his request bordered on a royal command; a sense of authority that came naturally to the princely wolf.
“I’m assuming you want a focus on the military side of things too, my prince?”
That response — especially the latter statement — was enough to throw Thalmin off of his carefully laid trajectory, repeating the same effect it had on Thacea just a week or so earlier.
Though to his credit, his recovery was far more slick, as he took that tease in stride with a cackle and a smile.
“Am I that much of an open book?” He snickered back.
“Nah, well… you’re earnest, which I guess in the Nexus has just about the same meaning.” I shot back with a friendly jab. “But in all seriousness, you’ve shown your colors on the topic many times before, Thalmin. So I’ll be happy to divulge… for a price, though.” I added teasingly.
“Oh? Learning the Nexian vernacular now are we?” The prince shot back with the same coy tone of voice.
“Hey, when in Rome am I right?” I responded. The EVI’s translation of that saying clearly landed well as Thalmin responded with a nod of his own.
“Name your price.” Thalmin spoke wryly with a cross of his arms.
“Let’s start with something I find to be topical. Magical telecommunications. From what the library told me a while back during the whole radio exchange, it mentioned something about Tethers, Flares, and Puddlejumpers. I’m assuming these are like… the fundamental analogues to instantaneous or at least near-instantaneous communications using magic, correct?”
“They are, yes.” Thalmin nodded. “Though… we will be learning this in class regardless. Under Status Communicatia or some such. Are you sure you want me to touch on this now?”
“Eh. It wouldn’t hurt, right?” I offered with a shrug. “But just the basics. It is getting late and I’m actually starting to feel the grip of exhaustion muffling my brain.”
“Understandable. Mind you, I mostly focus on the practical aspects of these systems, so be forewarned.” Thalmin prefaced with a toothy yawn. “You can divide these three systems by the intent behind their function or, more accurately, by scale. Tethers act similarly to minor shards of impart in that they are typically two enchanted artifices, bound together permanently, with the capability of conveying sound, script, or even projections over vast distances. Flares are much the same, albeit now a sort of web…” Thalmin paused, as if waiting to gauge my reaction on that particular word. “... of such artifices. Multiple, connected through a complicated web of intersecting enchantments.” He continued, once more emphasizing that word for added effect. “Finally, puddlejumpers are… well… it’s actually quite difficult to explain. It’s… a sort of perpetual repository of information, similar to the library, though much more exclusive.”
That definitely caught my attention, as I shifted in place. “Wait, so, like a bunch of books, scrolls, or whatever, just… hanging out in a sort of—”
“—puddle… or rather, pool of communication. Many liken it to a pool of information, accessed through puddles. Though from what I understand, most use it as a grander system of correspondences — a very Nexian invention, so it might be best to explore this at the Academy.”
“Right…” I acknowledged, my mind racing at the possibility of what sounded eerily similar to a magical equivalent of the early internet.
“So, now that I’ve completed my end of the Nexian bargain, it’s your turn, Emma.” Thalmin urged.
“Sure. Though because of the time constraints, tonight probably won’t be where we get into the whole war history thing.”
“Yes yes yes. I don’t expect a history lesson today. Though, I do have two very pertinent topics to discuss.”
“Go on?”
“The first is rather straightforward.” The prince stood up, walking over to the V4c and then quickly gesturing — with both hands extended for dramatic flair — towards the welding torch. “Why have you elected to exclude a weapon of mythical caliber from our discussions over your armaments?” Thalmin all but yelled out, his eyes now darting back and forth between the unassuming collapsed tube and my visor.
I smiled.
Then, I outright giggled as I approached the discarded welding torch with a cocksure swagger.
“Because that’s precisely it, Thalmin. It’s not on my list of armaments.” I began as my sly and smug grin faced yet failed to meet the confusion growing on the prince’s face. “It’s actually part of my toolkit.”
=====
Thalmin
My eyes narrowed as I crossed my arms in blatant disbelief.
Toolkit…
That word carried with it a facetiousness I could not overcome.
“No.” I enunciated bluntly. “I refuse to believe that such an artifice is anything if not a dedicated fire saber of some kind.”
I maintained my position, standing my ground as I stared daggers at the unassuming hilt of a blade.
“I’m telling you, Thalmin. What I did was sort of a… parlor trick. A well-known but exceedingly dangerous exploit born out of both boredom and foolishness resulting in a goofy stunt that would make any supervisor, foreman, and occupational safety inspector froth at the mouth.”
“A stunt?” Was my immediate and gut response, my eyes twitching at the narrative Emma was still adamant on weaving. “Emma, I understand if there are secrets you wish to keep. But if you are to keep such matters confidential, then I’d rather a forthright admission of said aims.” I made my point known, crossing my arms firmly as I did so. “I demand to be spoken to with candor, rather than being led astray like a pup being regaled with tall tales of a world they are deemed too immature to comprehend.”
This seemed to finally catch the web weaver’s attention, as she walked over to the artifice and began fiddling with the buttons on its hilt with a click and a clack.
Eventually, she held it in such a fashion and at such an angle that would make any novice duelist wince.
At which point did it finally dawn upon me.
The ergonomics, the particularities of its construction, the curved head that was clearly meant to be pointed perpendicular to its hilt, this was—
FWOOOSHHHHH!
A small but controlled release of flames outright confirmed my newfound realization.
As Emma was quick to mime the joining of two metal pieces, with this narrow lance of fire acting as its fuser.
I could not deny the similarities to the metalworking I’d seen done in countless smithies and the handful of manufactoriums I’d had the pleasure of visiting.
This… was undeniably just a tool.
Though that still raised the worrying question.
“You’ve proven your point.” I admitted with a sullen but curious breath. “But while it may be a tool, that still raises a pertinent question. Exactly how can such a tool be used for—”
I halted myself before I could continue, as a knowing look quickly took hold of my features.
“I think we both know the how of the matter better than most, Thalmin.” Emma announced with a palpable slyness, hinting at yet another universal martial trait that transcended cultures and realms.
“Give a recruit a polearm, and you'll end up with a half-spear and a baton.” I echoed the sentiments of every pack commander in a single, universal adage.
“Mmhmm.” Came Emma’s immediate reply. “It’s no different in the skilled trades from what I hear. If anything, with the tools and toys they have at their disposal, they can get a heck of a lot more creative than a bored recruit.” She cackled. “So to directly address it, what you saw earlier was just a simple combination of safety overrides and overthrottling.”
“I see.” Was my one and only exacerbated response. “Though I must ask, this… modification to your welder… is it truly so simple to turn a mere smith’s tool into an enchanted blade of solid flame?” I asked, my tone poised to undermine the would-be cadet’s attempt at suave integrity. “Or are you simply part of the problem, cadet?”
This seemed to finally, albeit momentarily, break the earthrealmer’s bold and cocky proclamations, as she simply froze in place, stuttering all the while. “Erm… I mean… like… when you do get your hands on it, it’s kinda a right of passage to just try out a real life light-saber, alright?”
I let out a satisfied chuckle following that. “I’ll take that as an admission to guilt, then. Though… light-saber. Is that really what this trick is called?”
“Yeah, well, it’s probably not translating perfectly. But in any case, it’s just a reference to a fictional weapon from a long-standing tale known as Stellar Conflict.”
“A rather bland name… but if this piece of fiction did spawn a whole host of would-be dismemberment tools all for the sake of fictional mimicry, then I must insist that you put it on our list of sight-seer fictions to watch, Emma.”
“Fair enough.” The earthrealmer nodded. “Memo noted. So… is there anything else you wanted to tackle tonight? You mentioned you had two things to ask.”
“Indeed I did.”
“Okay… go for it.” She urged.
“The killing blow you inflicted on the vorpal chimera.” I began. “That sound was unlike anything I’d heard from your ‘gun’. So tell me, what did you do?”
“Oh. That. Yeah, I think only Ilunor was present for the only other time I put the moon gun on full-auto.” Emma reasoned, prompting me to cock my head in response. “Er, sorry, that was way, way back when he was still sort of a dick. Anyways, you’ve only seen it on semi-auto during my fight with the null. That’s just one of three modes of fire my sidearm possesses.”
It didn’t take a genius to fully comprehend what the earthrealmer was purporting, as my eyes were now locked on her holstered weapon.
Emma seemed to take note of this, drawing her weapon once more as she gestured towards a small piece of metal raised slightly above the rest of the frame. It looked to be moveable, as it tapered slightly towards three alien symbols I could not translate.
Though just from inference alone, I quickly gathered exactly what each meant.
“Semi-auto, which you saw me using prior to the finale of tonight’s events.” She flicked the raised metal towards the first symbol, that of a single ‘round’.
“Single shots.” I reasoned, garnering a nod from the earthrealmer. “Though that raises the question… why would you call it semi-automatic?”
“Ah, that. Well. The term really just refers to the fact the cycling action — the manner in which you get the next round into the chamber — is automatic. Meaning that with each trigger pull, the action automatically reloads the next round, so you don’t have to rack the slide manually.”
“I see.” I acknowledged with a nod, gesturing for Emma to continue.
“Next—” She flicked the raised metal upwards, towards the next symbol — three ‘rounds’ grouped in a cluster. “—is burst fire mode. I haven’t shown you this yet, but it’s simply—”
“Three shots fired in rapid succession with a single squeeze of your trigger, I’m assuming.” I interjected.
“Correct.” Emma nodded, before shifting towards the third and final symbol — three vertical bars. “Finally, there’s full-auto. Which simply means that the gun will fire continuously so long as the trigger is held.”
“And that’s the ‘mode’ you used against the vorpal chimera’s lead head?”
“Precisely.”
I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, leaning in closer to inspect the unassuming piece of alien artificing. “You turned its head into a fine mist. The sound that emerged was unlike that of a single shot, or how I’d ever imagine a continuous stream of such thunderous cracks to sound like.” I pondered out loud. “If the only variable present is the manner in which these projectiles are launched, and the projectiles and their manner of action remains the same, then the only thing that could change these sounds is—” I paused, as a startling revelation hit me like a bolt of lightning; my fur standing slightly on end. “—the speed at which these explosions happen.”
“The rate of fire, yes.” Emma acknowledged with an excitement in her voice.
“How many seconds did it take to unleash all 25 of your projectiles?” I questioned bluntly.
“Just under a second, Thalmin.” Emma responded with a fresh revival of cocky confidence.
“That… that explains a lot.” I managed out.
Though just beneath the surface, I couldn’t help but to remember the one glaring detail about this weapon that brought with it the same disturbing implications as on that fateful null fight.
This was a sidearm.
A sidearm.
=====
The Next Day
His Eternal Majesty’s Remembrance Path | The Royal Road of Transgracia. En Route to the Township of Sips. Local Time 1100 Hours.
Alorant
There was no time.
I had until noon break to unravel the mysteries of the Blue Knight.
And I’d already overslept.
I rushed to the front of the cart, feet scrambling against… newly varnished wood?
Ignoring that, I leaped to the driver’s bench, scanning the horizon only to find the subject of both my interest and feverish dreams riding next to us.
“Blue Knight!” I bellowed out, only to be met with a resounding slap against the back of my head.
“Leave the Blue Knight alone, Alorant. She’s done enough for us as is and we’re just about to crest—”
“It’s alright. I’m more than willing to hear the kid out, Solizia.” She interjected, her strangely rehearsed formal cadence conflicting with the sheer casualness that she carried herself.
“Thank you, Blue Knight! Well, erm, ah—” I paused, my eyes turning to the skies and realizing that not only had noon nearly arrived… but that we’d just about crested the hill overlooking the town of Sips. “AHHH!! Well, erm, ah, okay! First question, your conveyance! The… bi-treader? Where’d you get it?”
“I built it.” Was the Blue Knight’s confident response.
I nodded, scrambling as I attempted to wrangle and arrange coherent followup questions.
“Erm, and your armor? I’m not sure if it’s just because of our own weak auras, but I can’t feel your presence. It feels like you’re just… a rock in a stream?” I stuttered out, but was once again faced with a back hand to the head.
“Where are your manners?! You can’t just imply the Blue Knight is—”
“A weakfielder?” The Blue Knight interjected, causing father to stammer out a string of apologies.
“Ah, erm, that was not the implication I wished to—”
“Nah, I don’t mind. If anything, I applaud your son’s observation skills, Alorant. Because yes.” The Blue Knight took the time to shift her gaze back to me. “You’re right, Alorant. My armor is mana resistant. Because like my bi-treader, I am… well… let’s just say where I come from? You don’t need mana for a lot of things. From conveyances all the way to fundamental things like plants, animals, and heck, even me.”
“Please, Blue Knight… you need not entertain my son’s foolish antics and overimagination. It is very well that we acknowledge reality as it is, yes?” Father managed out under a nervous laugh.
And for once I agreed.
“Yeah… if you’re going to make stuff up, at least make stuff up that makes sense, Blue Knight. I’m old enough to handle the truth you know. Don’t take me for a ride.”
“ALORANT! PLEASE! Mind your manners!”
“Solizia, it’s alright. Alorant? How about this… I will take you for a ride.”
“What?”
…
5 Minutes Later
…
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, my hands holding onto the bench for dear life, as the winds up ahead slammed into my face with the force of an unrelenting gale.
I could hear the wheels beneath us straining, creaking, moaning, and grinding against the road. As every dimple and crack in our wheels was exacerbated ten fold.
Imperfections that we could overlook at normal speeds were now practically death sentences ready to strike us down at any given moment.
Yet in spite of this horror and the screams from both me and my father, it was the mercenary prince and the Blue Knight that seemed to find this madness fun.
The former, now sitting between us, kept the magical chain between the carriage and the bi-treader steady; his toothy, animalistic grin occasionally slipping into hoots, hollers, and yells as he urged for the Blue Knight to increase what was already death-defying speeds.
“FASTER!” He yelled.
And to our dread—
“YOU GOT IT!”
—the Blue Knight obliged.
I could feel forces I never felt before pushing me up against the backrest of the bench, as I turned to father whose lips were at this point splayed open by the forces of the wind.
Our horses weren’t doing too much better, as they whinnied and whined at the back of the freshly reinforced cart, their nervous motions causing the whole undercarriage to screech at each and every opportunity.
I turned to my side, only to see the countryside passing us by so fast that I could barely make out the trees from the forest.
I then turned ahead, my eyes widening in terror as I witnessed the town of Sips barrelling towards us at unimaginable speeds.
I screamed.
=====
Emma
My heart raced as I felt the surge of adrenaline reaching its peak.
The blurry green of my peripheral vision soon faded into streaks of brown and yellow as the already smooth ‘royal road’ transitioned into soft pavers of Sipstown flanked by fences on either side.
Several beeps from the EVI tempered the speed demon in me, however, as I kept the speeds manageable to what the cart behind me was calculated to be rated for.
Though strangely, that wouldn’t be the only warning against me and Thalmin’s fun-brained schemes.
Because as we rapidly approached town, passing by the occasional cart and carriage, several unexpected interlopers craned their heads towards us in a collective display of otherworldly solidarity.
Scarecrows, pumpkin-heads and all, began scanning us like traffic cameras.
Though that was only the start of the bizarreness that came with these… things.
As they each started speaking, in synchrony and unison, at precisely fifty-meter intervals along the border of the farms.
“STOP!” One began.
“YOU’RE!” Followed by another.
“VIOLATING!” And another.
“THE LAW!” And another.
This, along with Thalmin’s own warnings following that last scarecrow, finally prompted me to slow down to a more reasonable pace. Enough for the scarecrows to suddenly stop their cautionary torrents.
Though that wouldn’t be the end of it. As several figures on horseback emerged from a small building half a kilometer or so up ahead.
We maintained our course until we were intercepted by said figures, each dressed in partial plate armor that seemed as decorative as it was functional if the EVI’s mana radiation warnings were of any indication.
“Stop! You have violated the law!” One spoke, repeating the scarecrow’s warnings, though in a more natural cadence.
“You are charged with speeding in an agricultural zone without a permit or royal warrant. Pay the court a fine, or serve your sentence.” The other guardsman spoke, his eyes carefully inspecting us through his slitted helmet, as his hand maintained a steady grip on his spear.
Comments
Dennis Hornsby
Is that a Skyrim ref-
