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Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (136/?)
🕑 Added 2025-07-06 17:32:54 +0000 UTCHis Eternal River Boat (HERB) Pursuit of Constance. Pleasure and Recreation Deck. Local Time 1525 Hours.
Emma
A baleful melody serenaded the defeat of the elves, while darkness quite literally descended on the entire realm, culminating in a shadowy and wispy mist that drained whatever color that remained on the board.
The life-giving light that shone from overhead slowly drew to a close, resembling the shuttering of a cupola within the domed atrium of an intersolar space liner.
However, instead of a physical shutter simply blocking out the light from above, the stained glass quite literally transformed back into the solid fresco we’d seen earlier.
Neither soft whispers nor open speech interrupted the solemn hymn of a crumbling virtual realm, as the atmosphere descended further into a regretful melancholy accentuated by the bowing of strings and the warbling of woodwinds.
The ambiance of the room barely resembled the hallmarks of victory, far from it. Instead, everything on display fell neatly into the trappings of defeat.
This observation was quickly reinforced by the ‘closing credits’ of the game, showcasing what I could only describe as a series of concept art sketches depicting scenes of war amid a myriad of battlefields in stunning and breathtaking composition.
The first of which depicted a massive hoard of mounted and infantry units gathered outside of some grand capital.
The second showed said forces marching to battle with a single mage leading the charge.
It was the third image where things finally clicked however, as I suddenly realized that this wasn’t just your typical behind-the-scenes concept art shown at the end of most media… but instead, custom art depicting stylized scenes of battle from our game.
I barely had time to form my growing curiosities into words before the elven pair stepped forward, their heeled shoes clacking across the now-flat mosaic floor.
Soon enough, they stopped mere feet in front of us, staring at us with varying levels of darkened consternation.
The orange-haired Etale’s features proved to be the more worrying of the pair, as he wore something more closely resembling Ping’s furious frustrations, as opposed to Evrail’s more wary and concerned visage.
A part of me grew increasingly concerned at what was about to transpire, and most of all, if all our efforts were about to end up becoming an exercise in futility.
Because if Ping and the wider Nexus was anything to go by, I expected something similar to a rug pull. A sudden and arbitrary change in the rules of the challenge that would deny the clear-cut victory we’d earned fair and square.
I stood there silently, watching as the elven pair turned to each other while the final few notes of the game’s melancholic ‘defeat music’ drew to a gradual and somber close.
It was then, and only then, did Etale finally address us.
At which point, I prepared myself for any number of Nexian mental gymnastics.
“Whilst we are hesitant, and indeed… personally unwilling to acknowledge your victory…” The elf began before he inevitably trailed off, turning towards Evrail to cover his own ego.
“You have still managed to achieve the conditions of victory all the same.” Evrail acknowledged solemnly, dipping her head slightly as she spoke. “We thus acknowledge your victory—”
“—and in so doing, respect the sanctity and integrity of this most auspicious of games.” Etale quickly interjected, as if to make clear exactly where this unprecedented acknowledgement was coming from.
“For the rules of the game are sacrosanct.” Evrail continued.
“And the integrity of the mechanics within — unquestionable in their deliverance.” Etale concluded, as they both turned up towards the fresco, holding their arms up high as a large book that resembled a sight-seer descended down ominously.
A silence quickly descended on the pair as they quickly pocketed the book into a bag of holding, while turning to each other with two very different looks — a growing degree of visible disdain from Etale, and an expression of abject unease from Evrail.
The growing tension was palpable. Not only within the pair’s features, but on the faces of the staff as well; all of which seemed ready for the slightest command from the pair.
It was then, after a deep breath, did Etale finally break the silence with a clenching of his fists.
“Earthrealmer.” He began, but refused to make eye contact as he stood dramatically by Evrail’s side.
“Yes, Lord Etale?” I responded promptly.
“Exactly what did you do?” He asked bluntly.
“I’m sorry?”
“Coyness will get you nowhere.” He shot back. “So i reiterate — exactly what sort of tactics did you employ in that session?!” He drilled harder, placing his hands — and the bag of holding — behind his back in a sort of faux parade rest.
“Tactics that I thought would work well in the game?” I answered as frankly as I could.
“Don’t test my patience.” Etale seethed. “And do not test my resolve. I need… nay, I want to know why you chose such an unorthodox, and frankly… flagrant display of uncivilized strategies!”
I let out a sigh, leveling my gaze and winding back my shoulders before addressing the orange haired elf. “Because I read the room and saw the writing on the wall.” I replied just as bluntly. “Your tactics and strategies left a window of opportunity that needed to be exploited.” I continued, as I raised a hand for added effect. “Your opening moves, or lack thereof, is what we call A Tall Opening in my world. This left you vulnerable, completely undefended, but only for a discrete sliver of time.”
“So you do understand the standard opening moves of the game.” Etale reasoned, his eyes narrowing while his body refused to budge. “Why exactly did you choose such a… barbaric strategy then? Why play the savage when you know the rules of the civilized?”
“If I’d chosen to play you at your own game, I’d have been put at a disadvantage.” I responded with yet another sigh. “You two clearly know this game and its meta far better than I do. So, even with all of the pointers you gave me, I’d still be playing at an experience deficit. This left me with a single viable strategy…” I paused for dramatic effect, taking a single step towards the smaller man. “I’d force you to play my game, at my pace.”
“But this isn’t your game, newrealmer.” Etale seethed.
“No, no it isn’t. But for that narrow sliver of time, I managed to make it my game, all the same.” I chuckled darkly.
This seemed to cause some cracks to form on the man’s visage, as his eyes quivered, if only for a moment. “And you knew this for a fact?”
“It was a hunch. Or as my superiors would say — a calculated risk.”
“And so you placed everything on this… hunch. Placing everything at risk. Your entire game. This entire challenge?” He took a deep breath, moving forward a single step. “Instead of mitigating those risks by meeting us at what was at the very least an assured path to victory?”
“Like I said, Lord Etale. It was a risk I was more than willing to take.” I explained cockily. “I’ve played these games before, and I know when to exploit a weakness.”
The elf’s eyes darted away for a moment as I noted a subtle shiver coming across him. He quickly turned to Evrail, who urged him to continue, as he refocused his gaze back towards me with a vengeance. “And yet… you still lost. Or at least, you would have, if it wasn’t for your ally playing by our strategies.”
“Discussions over what would have or what could have been is something I wouldn’t necessarily call constructive, Lord Etale.” I countered. “Although… I do get where you’re coming from. And I am willing to acknowledge what you’re saying, if only to give credit where credit’s due.” I turned to Thalmin as a result. “This was decisively Prince Havenbrock’s win at the end of the day.”
The lupinor’s eyes lit up at that affirmation, as he turned towards me with a fangy grin. “One which was made possible by the chaos sewn within both forces by your unorthodox tactics, Cadet Booker.”
We both exchanged a firm nod, before turning back towards the elven pair.
“Ridiculous…” Was all Etale said in response to that exchange, muttering it out under his breath.
“With all that being said, I assume you haven’t forgotten our deal, right?” I quickly added.
“Yes, yes, earthrealmer.” Etale spoke, before he quickly snapped his fingers.
Sure enough, one of the game room attendants quickly rushed forwards, bringing over a thick book in one hand, and an inkwell and quill in the other.
With a wordless look, the elf quickly added our names into what I assumed was the passenger manifest, before promptly tearing two little strips of paper from said book.
“At the end of the day, a challenge won is a challenge won.” The elf shrugged. “As a gentleman of intellectual sport, I am ultimately beholden to the rules of the game.” He let out a sigh, bowing slightly in my direction. “A challenge well met, earthrealmer.” He spoke firmly, as he handed out what quickly transformed from mere strips of torn pages, into outright golden tickets
I nodded in acknowledgement while grabbing both tickets, and after handing one to Thalmin, I quickly turned back towards the elf with an outstretched hand.
It took a moment for Etale to realize what the gesture even was, as he seemed to regard my hand with a moment of genuine pause and suspicion, before finally letting out a sigh and committing to reciprocation.
“Good game.” I spoke as he gripped my hand.
“Indeed it was a… good game, as you say.” He acknowledged through a confused raise of a brow.
This continued through to Evrail as we both exchanged the same gesture.
“Good game.” We both spoke.
“This is not to say that we approve of your actions, however.” Etale started up once more. “If anything, your tactics served but one purpose — to divert both valuable time and resources away from the true threat of this battle.”
Both eyes quickly turned to Thalmin, as each dipped their heads in his direction. “Prince Havenbrock, we salute your dedication to the art of war. We should have expected as such coming from such an esteemed adjacent realm.”
It was at that point that I realized that my previous assumptions were indeed, correct.
There was mental gymnastics involved here.
But at the very least, it was less denial, and more so a coping mechanism.
What’s more, I was actually glad for once that they’d gone down this route.
Because if anything, this placed Thalmin in the limelight. And I for one, couldn’t be happier that he was finally getting the recognition he deserved… even though it was clear from his expression, that he wasn’t at all expecting this sudden turn of events.
=====
The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Riverfront. Dock 3. Local Time 1525 Hours.
Apprentice Ral Altaria Del Narya Sey Antisonzia the Second
It was ironic, really.
In fact, I was quickly wracked by a sense of shame as soon as the realization dawned upon me.
Here I was, tracking down my prey, observing from afar…
In the same fashion that a feral lupinor might do with their noses, following the disgusting wafts of scents and whatever else their primitive forms allowed for.
It was disgusting.
And yet, was I not doing the same by virtue of my tracker?
No.
NO!
Of course I wasn’t!
I was on the prowl, the chase, the enlightened hunt by virtue of a magical artifact!
This was the furthest away one could get from the animalistic tracking of a feral lupinor.
If anything, the comparison was blaspheme to that which is most civil and sophisticated.
Yes.
I was looking at this in reverse!
But then again… was it not the primitive nose that came before the tracking methods of the thinking mind?
Was it not the sapient mind that took after this phenomenon?
No.
Of course not!
It was a coincidence!
Why… if one looked into every action and their primitive equivalent, one would simply not see the end of it!
It was a recursive loop that led to even greater existential crises, and Apprentice Ral Altaria Del Narya Sey Antisonzia the Second was not one for that drivel!
“Ahem, m’lord?” A voice called for me, a soft, yet clearly irritated voice that belonged to some sort of official sniveling below the chest-line of my mighty golem drake.
Or at least… that would have been the case if I hadn’t adapted to the circumstances of my surroundings.
Indeed, I’d transfigured the enchanted stone of the drake into a far more modest golem horse, all for the sake of maintaining a modest profile for this clandestine operation.
Oh the sacrifices I make for the sake of the mission…
“Mmmmyeesss?” I responded politely, perhaps a bit too politely.
“M’lord… I don’t know if you’ve noticed this but…” The man’s voice trailed off, as he pointed all around us. “... you’re currently blocking the path.” He continued, as I realized now the folly of my pause.
I’d caused something of a congestion.
But then again, congestion was part of port life, no?
“Aye my dear fellow, aye!” I responded in a way befitting of a man of the port, attempting to blend in with the dialect of these port-dwelling workmen.
“Yes… aye, indeed. So… could I please request that you—”
I was off before the man even had a chance to react; speeding down the next open lane and gathering speed towards my intended destination.
A destination that forced me to reassess the scope of my operations.
“The riverboat party?” I mumbled under a quizzical breath.
Soon enough, and with yet another surprising dose of irony, I was met promptly by one of the main proponents for the riverboat layabouts.
Lord Ysiv.
“Ah! Apprentice Ral Altaria Del Narya Sey Antisonzia the Second.” The tortle bowed deeply in my direction. “For what do I owe the pleasure, sire?”
“Hmm…” I began, as I twiddled the reins of my steed between my fingers. “I wish to inspect your passenger manifest.” I commanded.
At which point, I was once again met with the same irony from before.
“As you wish, sire.”
Because unlike what the tortle’s form may imply, his speed in the presence of his betters was most certainly commendable.
His scampering lasted barely ten seconds as he grabbed a rather sizable ledger from one of the riverboat staff, and upon handing it to me with a deep bow, did I momentarily dismiss him with a wave of my hand.
Silently, and with great poise, I began the meticulous process of combing through the ledger.
Though it was debatable as to how meticulous one could be when the actual passenger side of the manifest consisted of a measly three peer groups.
Thus, it took scantily a second for me to notice a hastily-added set of names at the very bottom of this list; written in fresh ink that I could smell from a mile away.
Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrelam
Prince Thalmin Havenbrock of Havenbrockrealm
There you are… I smiled proudly to myself.
“Lord Ysiv.” I called.
And once more did the adjacent realmer oblige.
“Yes, sire?”
“I demand room and board on your leased vessel.” I once more commanded. “For the duration of your cruise, or until such time where I see fit to depart.” I quickly added.
And just like that, with barely any time to process my request, let alone question my intent, the tortle bowed even deeper in acknowledgement.
“Your will be done, sire.” He responded deferentially.
I let out a pleased sigh as a result.
Now this was the way of things. I thought proudly to myself.
The earthrealmer and her contumacious compatriots have somehow sullied this expectant agreeability. So much so that I almost expected some degree of pushback from the tortle.
Though thankfully, the noble in question played well into his kind’s stereotypical amenability, as he not only added my name to the ledger with no fuss, but personally gave me the red carpet entrance into the vessel.
I could feel the nipping of the manastreams on the skin of my palm the moment I entered the vessel’s loading bay.
Indeed, I found myself inextricably drawn to one corner of the bay in particular, and the reason why would be clear following the docking of my golem to the vessel’s many golem stables.
Prince Havenbrock’s horse.
There was a sense of satisfaction as I saw my handiwork in action; an affirmation that I was on the right path towards fulfilling this most esteemed of tasks.
However, no sooner after I’d docked my golem and followed the tortle upwards did I notice something else at the corner of my eye.
An entirely different wagon bay, one that was clearly designated for—
“A separate wagonbay for monotreaders and the sort, it would seem.” I noted casually.
“Yes, sire.” The tortle responded with a level of excitement. “This is, after all, a second-rate—”
“—spell-rig galley.” I completed his words for him.
“Yes sire!” The tortle beamed brightly. “I take it you are a man of technical culture?”
“Aye.” I responded with mirth. “I’d consider myself something of a shipwright.”
The tortle nodded slowly at this, as it was clear my cover was working.
“Well you’re in luck, sire. For we have a week’s worth of merriment upon this most auspicious of vessels.” The tortle added with a gleeful smile.
=====
His Eternal River Boat (HERB) Pursuit of Constance. Pleasure and Recreation Deck en Route to Promenade Deck. Local Time 1535 Hours.
Thalmin
I picked apart Emma’s words carefully, dissecting them amidst a myriad of claims that ran concurrently along a throughline of military competency.
Moreover, I analyzed each brazen claim against the practical avenues of martial aptitude, military philosophy, and objective demonstration whenever I could; all with the goal of assessing exactly what it was I was truly dealing with.
Emma was as much a diplomat as she was a warrior after all, and it was her former position that made it naturally difficult to take any claim at face value.
It was in the very nature of a diplomat to wage battles with words after all, and as with all acts of diplomacy, it was ultimately the shadow of hard power — invoked through posturing and grandstanding — that lent weight to any claim to soft power.
This leads to a diplomat’s words being littered with gross exaggerations, and a tendency towards chest-thumping where there was neither muscle nor sinew to thump.
But not with Emma.
If anything, it was always the opposite with her.
Her attempts to dissuade discussion over martial affairs was at first indicative of a realm incapable of defending itself.
It fit the narrative of the manaless realm after all; for what could a realm lacking in the essence of civilized endeavors do, if not falter at the mercy of those with both mana and time on their side?
However with each passing day and with every obstacle overcome, an inverse picture was quickly painted.
A picture that showed a world neither lacking nor weak, but fruitful and powerful.
A world that defied the very conventions of civilization, and was thus incapable of being assessed by any conventional means.
A world… that Emma had continually shied away from, for reasons I could not comprehend.
At least, until now.
For her arachnous nature was perhaps fueling the concern that all of her diplomatic efforts would fall short, thus prompting her to hide that which was her nature.
But then again, such a line of thought was grossly hyperbolic.
The question wasn’t the nature of her being, but rather, the nature of her martial capabilities.
Of which, one such strategy was finally put on display.
Insect swarm tactics… was what she called it.
A term unnervingly fitting for what had just transpired.
“Whoah.” Emma suddenly spoke, bringing me down from my reverie as we both took the time to admire the fine fittings and furnishings of the stateroom we’d ‘won’ the rights to. “It’s almost too gaudy, pretty Baroque, but tame enough that I appreciate the artistry behind it.” She continued. “Welp, it’s unfortunate we can’t cruise in style. Though we probably have a few minutes to burn before we skedaddle back down to the cargo bay—” Emma eventually trailed off, noticing something in my eye. “You okay there, Thalmin?”
“Emma.” I began cautiously. “I must ask. This… insect swarm strategy you mentioned earlier. Is this… a known strategy in your realm? Or was it a spur of the moment decision?”
“Oh? Insect swarm? Yeah, it’s a known strategy. A pretty old move from an ancient game actually, but it has its place in the gaming sphere when the situation calls for it!” The earthrealmer beamed.
It took a moment for a realization to slowly dawn on me, as I placed myself on an armchair opposite from the armored human.
“So… this is a gaming maneuver?” I reasoned. “Perhaps I should rephrase my question. Is this a strategy found exclusively within games, resulting from the exploits of a game’s mechanics… or is this a strategy found in reality, and then later adopted into the mechanics of a game?”
“It’s the former.” Emma replied without hesitation. “But I mean, it’s not like pillaging is not seen in real life warfare right? At least, historically speaking. Nor are human wave tactics exactly unseen in historical contexts either.” She quickly added.
Her response threw me off at first — relief washing over me as I caught her meaning, followed swiftly by understanding… and then, gradually, a strange sense of unease as the weight of her final point settled in.
“So your realm has partaken in such brazen tactics before?”
“What? The pillaging? That’s—”
“No, that’s to be expected, yes. I more so meant the ‘human wave tactics’.” I interjected.
Emma quickly sighed as I narrowed down my suspicions, the earthrealmer quickly repositioning herself by leaning sideways against a support arch.
“It’s something that we’re not proud of. And if it helps any, it’s been nearly a millennium since the last time it happened. But yeah, this did happen quite a few times in our history.”
“I see.” I nodded slowly. However, no sooner did I rationalize that revelation did another realization dawn on me. “Wait.” I began. “You mentioned ancient games.”
“Yup? What about them?”
“You have equivalents to games of grand strategy as well?”
Emma paused at this question, her body language shifting dramatically from the growing anxiety that had just gripped her, into something more conducive with a giddy sort of excitement.
“Oh Thalmin…” She began with a sly cackle, before moving to one of her artifices. “You have no idea.”
With a few flicks of her finger, she quickly brought up what was very clearly—
“That’s quite literally just Lines of Succession.” I stuttered out bluntly.
“Oh yeah, we have a very similar game called Era of Kingdoms. However, that’s quite literally just one out of millions more games. At least, the mainstream ones that have been created over the millennia of interactive game media.”
My eyes grew wide at this revelation, as a part of me grew excited at the prospects far removed from that of the diplomat, noble, and even the warrior.
This was a new sort of excitement…
The excitement of the recreationalist.
Prior thoughts and considerations on the peculiarities of earthrealm’s military potential faded just for a moment, in lieu of the excitement locked within these litany of games.
“Every possible scenario or concept has been done, redone, and then remastered over the millennium.” Emma quickly added. “So we certainly won’t have trouble passing the time on our journey.” She beamed, before we both quickly turned to our timekeeping artifices.
“Speaking of, we should get going, Emma.” I urged.
“We’ll see if our gambit has paid off. But in any case, it’s time you answered a very important question, Thalmin.”
I took a deep breath, dreading what was to come.
“Are you alright with Operation: Hay and Switch?”
=====
His Eternal River Boat (HERB) Pursuit of Constance. Sun Deck. Local Time 1605 Hours.
Apprentice Antisonzia the Second
I’ve always had a soft spot for ships.
And though a riverboat was most certainly not a ship… its quaint and compact form reminded me of a more accessible, personable, and dare I say it — affable form of a ship.
“Affable.” Lord Ysiv parroted back. “I can certainly see it that way, sire.”
I knew for a fact that he did not see it that way.
The look in his eye was enough to hint at what all others thought of when they regarded the poetry of my prose.
Eccentricity.
It was at this point that I understood Lord Ysiv to be a fool. An obedient fool, yes. But a fool all the same.
“A boat, ship, and any water-borne craft is a being unto itself, Lord Ysiv.” I promptly explained. “A being comprised of many smaller elements, constituting the unseen aura of that which—”
TOOOT! TOOOOOOOOOT!
“Ah, there it is.” I noted, as both the tortle and I leaned off of one of the highest points of the vessel, waving those who remained at port goodbye.
Following which, the triumphant sound of a marching band was quick to follow, serenading us as we left port and into the deeper waters of the Grand Transgracian river system.
This truly was a glorious moment.
Indeed, one amidst many that would lead to a crowning achievement.
=====
His Eternal River Boat (HERB) Pursuit of Constance. Pleasure Deck. Local Time 1700 Hours.
Apprentice Antisonzia the Second
Many claim that walls could speak.
Those ‘many’ were idiots.
For it was the whispers and echoes of those who inhabited these walls — its staff — which truly made up the wispy echoes of the notable events gone by.
It was here within pleasure deck that many recounted the rather unexpected means by which the earthrealmer and her lupinor compatriot were able to procure passage on this vessel.
It was through a challenge of all things. A wager. One made over a game of Lines of Succession.
I pitied the poor sods who managed to lose to a newrealmer of all people.
Indeed, I watched as the two sods in question quietly sat at a corner of the room, discussing what was clearly the hot topic of discussion on this deck of the ship.
Strange terminology was thrown around amidst grandiose claims of barbarian hordes and pillaging raiders. Terms such as insect swarm, and a whole host of other strange concepts.
Losing to an opponent without a single battle mage? Oh how these poor elves have fallen from grace…
The Academy’s gaming club was surely in its darkest hour if this was the quality of player soon to fill its ranks.
=====
His Eternal River Boat (HERB) Pursuit of Constance. The Grand Dining Saloon. Local Time 1805 Hours.
Apprentice Antisonzia the Second
Something was wrong.
I could feel it.
Moreover, I could see it in the constituency of the room.
Given that this was a leased vessel, the Grand Dining Saloon’s approximately 300 tables were replaced with one single opulent one.
It was thus impossible to miss the supposed nine souls on the manifest within this space.
There were only six currently present, all of which were the original and intended passengers of this cruise.
One of which was dining far above in a personal alcove above the hall, so as to not rouse suspicion — myself.
Though two of which… the most important two… were markedly absent.
The concern which welled within my heart told me that something was not quite right.
However, I countered this with an objective point of observation.
The newrealmer’s peer group had long since exhibited antisocial behavior.
Their consistent inconsistency in attending both dinners and breakfasts at the Academy was evidence enough of their absence from the Grand Dining Saloon being a non-issue.
Perhaps they’d simply ordered room service.
=====
His Eternal River Boat (HERB) Pursuit of Constance. Loading Bay. Local Time 2000 Hours.
Apprentice Antisonzia the Second
They had clearly not ordered room service.
A prompt interview of the kitchen staff revealed that no food had been delivered to their assigned state cabin.
Following which, I was quick to navigate down to the loading bay, entering the space which very clearly still housed the object of my interest.
Prince Thalmin’s horse.
His horse was still here, and thus, there was nothing to worry about.
Comments
Google Google
Hopefully one of the students will become like her.🤣🤣💀🤣🤣💀💀💀🤣🤣🤣🤣 Now I understand how the black rope professor sees as well as other students it is too hilarious
Google Google
I just had to show this. r/JCBWritingCorner. Litl_Skitl. Alright, but is this basically how Emma sounds to all the Nexians? https://youtube.com/shorts/rgvNKDiFAqA?feature=shared. . Comment by PlentyProtection4959 You know what would be even more hilarious and simultaneously horrifying to the Nexus, if the students unconsciously started using Emma's informal way of speaking. Love or hate her, there's no denying every student has their eye on Emma, constantly observing her like some controversial celebrity, analyzing her every move, behaviour, mannerisms, and actions. Some time in the foreseeable future, I can imagine those students emulating her mannerisms and way of speaking in subtle ways throughout their day-to-day life due to sheer exposure. Then there'll be a moment of horror when those nobels realize that instead of the Nexus influencing Emma, Emma is influencing their culture by sheer proximity into eroding their sense of expected decorum.
Michael Halpern
so the Apprentice considers himself something of a shipwright... I really hope the EMMV is amphibious. even if it doesn't have folding wings to go full flying boat.
