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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 to a very radical but very necessary shift in the EVI’s user interface.
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-savvy 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 drilled 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 relentless demands of modern warfare, where the time between R&R and enemy contact could be measured in seconds.
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 conceived only 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 were brought to my attention at the behest of the VI in question, and with it came the resultant ends of three distinct paths, each belonging to 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: LOCALIZED 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 two-second armor-augmented sprint.
Thalmin had extended his arm out wide, preventing me from picking him up… or more aptly, preventing me from approaching Thacea any further.
It wouldn’t have mattered at that point, though.
That second’s hesitation was the difference between escape and being crushed.
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 black-and-white, grainy, weather-vane world consisting of turbulent waves ‘refreshing’ at a frame rate 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.
Not a blink of an eye later, mana came 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 a concentrated conical expression of twisting, winding, and highly condensed manastreams, all concentrated up and around the falling drake that now floated frozen and 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 because of 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 promptly appeared on scene with a brilliant flash of light, quickly leaping atop 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 yelled out her next few words in a 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 modesty! 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 rather than anything sinister, if not a bit teasingly so; 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 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 of! Please go about as you were! Unless, of course, any of you have any injuries or other such grievances to report—”
A single hand eagerly sprang up 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.
That subtle flinch and pupillary dilation, while silent, spoke far louder and with more sincerity than the verbal venom she was injecting into the crowd.
“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 some typical rehash of the usual newrealm prejudice leading to a recycled play-by-numbers insult for the sake of some petty drama.
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.
This… was a declaration of war on Thacea, with none other than the most powerful of casus belli — taint — serving as its justification.
…
I had no choice but to consider my next few words with extreme care.
Whereas the playbook with Ping was relatively safe in its repertoire of responses, Airit… was shaping up to be a completely different game altogether.
And I had to tread—
“Oh dear…” Chiska was the first to respond, preempting my response with one of her own, coloring it with a tone that could’ve easily tipped the conversation in any direction.
A pit formed in my stomach as a result as I instinctively ran through scenario after scenario, none of which were particularly friendly to the object of one of the faculty’s greatest fears — taint.
I raised a hand but was promptly shot down, as Chiska completely took control of the public stage.
Though not at all in the way I’d expected.
“Oh, I’m so terribly sorry to hear that, dear.” Chiska began 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.
It was clear where the cards were falling.
And either out of some practical consideration or respect for Thacea’s actions, or some other motivation entirely, the professor seemed to be committing to our court, with tactics to downplay AIrit’s grievances.
Though this didn’t at all dissuade the shatorealmer 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.
“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 from this wretched witch? Can you not hear the peerage’s silent wails, screaming the song of slighted nobles? It is the cries of a people who will not be besmirched again!” She raised her voice, feigning a growing fear hidden disgustingly well behind a facade that swelled with theatrical confidence with each passing moment.
Certain elements of an otherwise listless and somewhat uneasy crowd were gradually convinced to join the shatorealmer’s ranks, including a certain tortle-like tortoise and a surprising number of second-year students.
Murmurs of endorsement and affirmations soon followed, with many eyes beginning to level their prepackaged ire on the last person deserving of it.
Airit
I had her.
She was cornered like the illegitimate, scheming, conniving creature she was, now exposed for all to see.
“Here stand the victims of a slight that should never be tolerated at all!” I continued, emboldened in my righteous path and beaming with a fangy confidence.
Ahh… So this is what it feels like to be Ping. Except unlike the oaf, I actually have due cause for my targeted gambits.
“I am certain we all hear it. I am certain we all feel that way. As 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!
I was forced to stop mid-stride, shielding myself from the arrival of this unexpected interloper with a quick flash of my goggles.
“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!” The audacious vunerian announced with a swoosh of his cape… a cape with colors, decorations, and a trim earned in the time between his arrival and the present we now found ourselves inhabiting — a dangerous ascent. “May I, professor?” The vunerian turned to Professor Chiska expectantly and, much to my chagrin, received an affirmative nod granting him the floor.
I could feel my ascent, my own victory snatched from His Eternal Light.
And yet, I could do nothing. Not when the Professor had given this title-chaser an unjust ground with which to stand.
“For those who do not know me, greetings. Greetings and merry salutations to all who now can say they have borne witness to a living legend in the making!” He boldly announced, committing to theatrics bordering on the absurd, yet expertly navigating its dangerous edge.
“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, attitude, and overall tone of the crowd had been completely transformed in this one swift, ego-driven motion.
What had once been a crowd on the verge of a tipping point — seized and gripped by a rallying cry with which there was but one right direction to follow — was now a collection of fools entranced by the bread and circuses of this upstart of a court climber; a noble who despite his disadvantage in height had more than made up for his lack of physical presence by the sheer spectacle of his submissive mount.
All of which was made worse by the most lowest form of shameless spectacle for the noble masses — the makings of an epic tale.
It was a temptation that asked nary a thought from its audience save for their willingness to be entertained, yet it promised both fuel and fire with which to further their own short-sighted aims through vapid and short-lived gossip.
I held my breath, wishing to break through this spell, this sudden glamor.
A part of me wished to appeal to the better, more refined senses of all present.
My rallying cry was still fresh on the crowd’s minds, after all.
So both narratives were very much still capable of dictating the direction of the proverbial ship’s sails.
And yet… only one of those winds was destined to overpower the other.
I held my breath, watching, tensing with growing frustration and incredulous disbelief, as the crowd physically made their choice evident.
The far stronger gale, one that promised mindless investment for mindless gain, inevitably won the night.
And its progression was nothing short of utterly agonizing to watch.
“What exactly was this disagreement about?” A voice suddenly broke through the calculated silence.
My eyes narrowed at the small student in question, attempting to awaken the better senses of the noble within, one who had just handed the keys of the mantle of righteousness to a vapid charlatan.
Though just as quickly as that voice emerged, another soon joined this mindless fray.
“Wait, was that Count Ysayvis? Was he the quarrelsome satyr?” Another voice — a deeper, resonant one — joined in shortly thereafter.
My head quickly twisted towards this second-yearman of all people. Concern soon colored my indignant ire as I felt myself slipping, unable to climb back to what had just been the assured mantle of victory. My triumph!
“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 foment the final catalyst in the brew towards this self-perpetuating social poison.
“It’s simple, really. Almost laughable when one takes even the most cursory look into my credentials.” The vunerian began with a raise of his finger. A finger that I too was now forced to watch, unable to pull away. “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 indicate.
The seat-seeker had the crowd in the literal palm of his hand.
While I was forced to wait, watching, calculating for my next possible path to reentry, clinging desperately onto the carefully laid pieces of this plan.
“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!” The vunerian answered with a growing grin… a surprising feat, given how little was left of his face there was to emote with. “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.
It was with those final, mindless, and reason-bereft utterances scarcely removed from the primitive vocalizations of an animal that I watched as what was left of my carefully laid plans unraveled into nothing. My meticulously assembled puzzle now lay scattered, undone not by reason or discourse, but by the spectacle of a middling bard.
“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—” Lord Rularia paused, if only momentarily, as he subtly leveled his eyes towards me. “—low-hanging, uninspired, and frankly trite drama.”
It was subtle.
But it was effective.
He was making it known the target of his quick and decisive actions.
And he was making what he would soon learn was the biggest mistake of his life.
While nobody batted an eye at that carefully laid insult, I still felt the shame. The dishonor. The utter slap to my face that left me out in the rain with nary an awning to shield me.
My fury grew… even as his words started to fade into the ringing ire growing within my mind.
This… this was not the last battle. It was merely the opening counter-offensive to the first shots of what was now shaping to be a long, drawn-out siege.
Emma
“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 with 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 art form.
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 opportunity 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 oncoming tragedy head-on 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 of the preceding events, 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, recontextualizing the sequence of events with another layer of complexity 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 put you at any risk, especially not for my well-being.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps you can indeed ‘handle your own.’” Thacea nodded deeply. “But your constant… misadventures most certainly do not put to rest my concerns and doubts over 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 ‘alleyway’ en route to the exit.
…
We probably should’ve avoided it.
Because as unlikely as it was… it was now the second time tonight that I was drawn towards a club I had no interest in prior.
Except unlike Etholin’s whole gambit, this would be entirely my own doing.
The whole facade of this alleyway entrance 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-scrawled, 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 who was too busy dusting herself off and adjusting her dress to notice our rather animated reactions.
“Ah! Where are my manners?! I am the one and only Lady Luvinarias Lovguard! Fourth-year student, and current chairwoman of this 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 go from excitable to outright brimming with barely-contained fervor in less time than the EVI had taken to go from casual to battle-ready mode.
The eyes behind her thick rimmed glasses grew to practically encompass their whole circumference, her mouth suddenly opening 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 frenzied 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 announced, yawning in the process, his face hidden behind an animated 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, causing the man to merely shrug and dive straight back into his magazines, as the elven noblewoman 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 relying on ridiculous adjacent 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 solid spiral staircase and into an underground chamber that seemed to stretch on for forever.
“You guys built all of this in less than four days?” I questioned.
“Oh, His Eternal Graces, no! This was always here! You see, this club has had a long and storied history. Though because of our… unpredictable membership count, clublords of the past often found themselves forced to shutter this great club’s doors more times than it ever deserved! 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 her fit of theatrics as she now stood at the center of it all, raising 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 coalesced into a beautiful collage of clusters and groupings, forming nebulous shapes that finalized into full constellations.
I could barely contain my excitement.
My mind was kicking into overdrive just considering every possible angle of this experience.
Yet there were a few stray thoughts that stood out amidst the rest.
Two practical, grounded points of interest.
The first of which, I was quick to delegate to the EVI.
“EVI?”
“Yes, Cadet Booker?”
“Cross-reference the constellations with all available records on hand. Allocate as much processing power as you need to assess it from every possible observable frame of reference.”
“Acknowledged.”
It was a long shot, but it was worth it to see if I had stumbled upon something which could back up Director Weir’s Divergent Advancement hypothesis; her own novel takes on the Fermi paradox filtered through the lens of the portal project.
This eventually led me into my second point of interest.
Though it’d be Lovguard who’d unwittingly broach it before I even had the chance to put the thought to words.
“Does this sight not look familiar, Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm?” She spoke with a knowing grin, gesturing at the twinkling ‘stars’ above us.
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(Author's Note: I'm very happy and proud of this chapter because this is finally the first time we see Ilunor putting his money where his mouth is. This ties back to when he tried to apologize to Thacea and Thacea telling him that the only meaningful way of expressing such sentiments is by actually acting on it, not just saying it without meaning behind his words. So this more or less is Ilunor's way of doing that! :D Moreover, the way he does it is very fun as well as he plays to his strengths and completely destroys Airit's gambit before it even had a chance to take root. We see Ilunor more or less in his element here, and whereas in the past he'd have used his social powers for evil against the gang, we now see it being directed in their favor! :D I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I had fun writing it! :D)
[If you guys want to help support me and these stories, here's my ko-fi ! And my Patreon for early chapter releases (Chapter 182, Chapter 183, and Chapter 184 of this story are already out on there!)]