WPA – A Completely Average Roadtrip
Disclaimer: Not canon, and I don’t use patreon so please don’t spoil me. Also, any opinion held by a character is that of the characters and not my own. Enjoy.
Town of Ljosalfington, local time 14:00, week 7
Emma Booker
“Again Illunor, I warned you before that this is a utility vehicle, not a party rated smart-limo. I am already compromising more than I should by allowing you to use the sample cooler as a minifridge, one which I can’t even use!” I said as I loaded the materials I had just purchased into the back of the high-G All terrain fusion-ethanol-electric hybrid 24th-century legacy pickup truck that I had printed out earlier this week, carefully avoiding the heavy ordinance hard point.
“That is hardly an excuse for that abysmally cramped leg space barely fit for cattle, never mind the bare minimum for standard decorum suitable for nobility. If this is what a car is like, then I don’t see why you care for your technology,” complained Illunor, who was sitting around idly with a malformed garish bowl of icecream that he had stashed away from lunch.
“If it bothers you so much, perhaps you could help next time with your ‘bigger-on-the-inside’ magic,” I retorted as I slid the last core sample into the back before covering it up with a tarp and strapping it down.
I had originally planned to visit Ljosalfington by myself to acquire much needed exo-materials to test various mana manipulator configurations as I worked to develop my first wand as not all of the materials I needed were procurable locally from Elaseer. I eventually yielded, much to my regret, to allowing Illunor to come with me as he insisted on wanting to deliver a letter personally in town after Thacea had pointed out the wisdom of not travelling alone.
We continued our back and forth for a bit yet as I finished securing my payload a voice called out to me from the direction of the town.
“Excuse me a moment, I couldn’t help but notice but are you from the academy?”
I turned to see an elf dressed in a plain brown buttoned up tunic matched by a slightly shabby pair of trousers with what appeared to be a lute upon his back and a plain and unenchanted longsword on his belt gesturing at our robes. Mine especially were new and unusual, tailored by the academy to go over my armour and allow access to the anchor points and allow me to exit my armour with minimal hassle. Illunor scoffed at what was evidently a commoner’s arrogance at approaching nobility and turned his head away in disgust. I glanced at Illunor and shook my head before turning to face the new man. I had time to spare, and any opportunity to engage in a hearts-and-minds dialogue with the locals outside the bounds of the managed environment of the academy was more than worth the time to chat. Especially as most of the other locals seemed to be content in ignoring me.
“Yes, we are currently studying at the Transgracian Academy. I am Cadet Emma Booker representing the United Nations of Earth and Luna from Earthream, and my aloof compatriot is Lord Illunor Rularia of the Vunerian courts. We were just about to head back but are in no rush. May I ask your name and what brings you by?” I asked with my hand outstretched in greeting.
“Ah yes, yes. My name is Edhel Redoehdelnif, a wandering bard by trade like my father and his father before him. My apologies, Cadet Emma Booker, I am unfamiliar with Earthrealm,” said Edhel as he grasped my hand with both of his and shook it tepidly yet vigorously. Or rather, tried to, as the motors on my suit resisted his efforts.
“News doesn’t seem to spread all that fast around here, so it makes sense you haven’t heard of us. We’re a new realm, and only just got here. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Edhel Redoehdelnif,” I replied.
“Absolutely fascinating! And a knight no less, or perhaps a squire? I’m sure you have many stories to tell of Earthrealm. Say, by chance are you about to head back to the academy? I have business in Elaseer and the usual coach has been absent as of late so I would rather not go it alone,” said Edhel.
I was hesitant to bring a stranger back in the car with me, even if Illunor was present. However, the opportunity that meeting a bard presented was too good to pass up from an intel perspective and to win the favour of the populace at large.
“That is a great idea. I think I have room for one more…” I paused before gesturing towards Illunor, “provided everyone is ok with it that is.”
Illunor gave a huff and turned his head away in silence.
“Very well, I will allow this. But he will not be joining me in your sorry excuse for a coach,” said Illunor dismissively.
Illunor approached the backseat expectantly and the door opened for him automatically, allowing the dlc kobold to gracefully enter and lounge across the length of the seats, once again ignoring the seatbelts. I sighed as I made my way to the driver’s seat, and Edhel entered from the passenger side as he marveled at the automatic doors and the interior.
“What a strange carriage this is! Although I must say, shouldn’t you be retrieving your horses? I didn’t see any harnesses or sense any artifices,” inquired Edhel as he attempted to make himself comfortable on the car seat, lute in front of him.
“Oh no, this thing doesn’t need horses or magic,” I said with a chuckle as EVI started the car. The elf raised his eyebrows at the sudden hum of the engine and made an expression of alarm when the car started driving itself without my input. “See, purrs like a kitten.”
“Earthrealm must have some large kittens if they purr like that,” noted Edhel, “but you must be concealing the enchantments somewhere. Such a thing as this with such strange yet precise craftsmanship is only possible in the crownlands.”
“Nope, no magic,” I said cheerfully.
“Then how?” Asked Edhel.
“It’s rather simple really. Are you familiar with the workings of a mill?” I asked, deciding to keep things surface level and elementary to avoid provoking the IDOV threshold.
“Somewhat, though I confess to not being familiar with their workings. Are you suggesting this is akin to a mill?” Asked Edhel perplexed.
“It’s the same principal. A mill works by taking a source of rotation such as a waterwheel or windmill, transferring that rotation along a series of rotating shafts and interlocking gears, and finally putting that energy to work by rotating a millstone,” I began as the car pulled out onto the smooth cobbled road in the direction of Elaseer. A notification popped up in the corner of my vision indicating my recon drone swarm had shifted from a holding formation to a convoy screening formation, and while the roads were clear I kept the speed at 60km/h to account for my passenger’s apparent distaste for seatbelts.
“Rotation…” muttered Edhel. He turned to face one of the wheels and EVI pinged an alert for a probable match for a detection spell, “fascinating.”
“Edhel, what are you doing?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, perhaps I should have asked first. Yes, I can see how it all fits together. But the source of this rotation? I see no mighty river or great wind to power this, so where does it come from?” Asked Edhel, not really apologizing. Elven arrogance, it seemed, was not limited by class.
The act reminded me of Sorecar when he inspected my gun, but where the armourer had been respectful with it, Edhel was more flippant. I considered the possibility that he was a spy sent by one of her peers or the crownlands, though this did not mesh with the methods I had seen so far. Edhel may have been just overly enthusiastic. In either case, I quickly decided to only reveal the antique design for the ethanol engine, and not that of the batteries or the emergency coupler to my suit’s fusion reactor.
“Right, well please ask first next time. As to your question, I won’t bore you with the details, but the rotation is generated by creating a periodic sequence of explosions inside of a machine – a manaless artifice – called a combustion engine, said Emma.
“So that’s what that sound is…” pondered Edhel, “are these artifices typical in Earthream?”
“You are awfully inquisitive for a commoner,” noted Illunor as he inspected his nails for dirt, “and rather accepting of something which should be impossible.”
“I wouldn’t be much of a bard if I wasn’t, my lord,” said Edhel shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “perhaps some music might set the mood better?”
“That would be preferable, bard. I have heard enough of the Earthrealmer’s Road Trip Playlist and would like to listen to some music of real culture,” said Illunor.
The bard agreed and proceeded to awkwardly play a ballad about an adventurer who slew a hydra in some frozen wasteland. Partway through, I politely interrupted the Edhel to point out the seat controls much to his fascination and Illunor’s grumbling at their common nature, and after some adjustment the bard went on playing and I half-heartedly listened while I paid attention to the road and my drone feed.
Particularly after EVI detected something unusual and alerted me to its presence.
”Attention Caded Booker. There is a disabled vehicle blocking the primary route to destination. Heat signatures in the woods are consistent with that of an ambush.”
“Damn it,” I muttered.
I glanced at the drone feed to see a broken cart strewn horizontally across a wooden bridge over a brook. On the surface it looked like a pair of civilians who required aid and assistance, but off in the woods were several heat signatures, several of which held weapons of varying levels of enchantments. Occasionally one of the pair on the bridge would talk with them, suggesting they were in cahoots rather than hostages. I recalled crossing that very bridge not a few hours earlier, so the blockade was very recent.
“EVI, did we pass that cart on the way here?” I asked.
”Negative,” replied EVI.
I grimaced. I had been trained to handle road-side ambushes, but it was only something that was a theoretical possibility. Something that should only occur in a warzone or a corrupt and unstable polity. I knew I had the capacity to handle such an encounter, even non-lethally, but that didn’t change the fact that these were civilians and as such were the responsibility of local law enforcement. Combined with the fact that I had passengers I was responsible for and engaging the ambush was a risky option.
“EVI, give me a list of alternative routes,” I commanded.
”Affirmative. Here is a list of routes in order of recommendation,” replied EVI.
I looked over the routes superimposed on a map of the region and quickly dismissed taking a shortcut through the forest and cutting through farmland. A detour caught my eye that extended the journey by roughly ten kilometers and I immediately sent a pair of drones to scout it out before committing to the detour.
“Are you alright, Cadet Emma Booker? You seem distracted,” asked Edhel, snapping me back to reality.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just focused on driving,” replied Emma.
“I suppose it must be quite taxing to command an artificed carriage of this complexity. Perhaps it might ease your mind if you were to regale me a tale of a hero of your realm?” Said Edhel, strumming a complex tune from his lute as he spoke as each and every pluck triggered a low-level spell.
“Well, that may be a problem. We don’t have any monsters to fight, and wars are a thing of the past,” I said while desperately tip-toeing the subject of aunt Ran, the subject of war, and our voyages through the cosmos, “though we are not without the adventurous spirit. We certainly have many stories of grand voyages. Some mythical and fictional such as The Odyssey as told by the Greek poet Homer and some historical such as the race to the south pole.”
“The south pole,” muttered the bard, “so you have explored all of Earthrealm then? I suppose that makes some sense, if you have artifices such as this then traversal of a globe would be quite manageable.”
“You are quite perceptive,” I said, not wishing to elaborate.
“A great performer knows his audience,” said Edhel with a charming, honest, almost human smile.
I felt a pang of homesickness as an intrusive thought reminded me that I could have gone to a real college surrounded by friendly faces my age, engaging in nightly holostreams and dreaming of adventures in the stars from the safety of a college dorm room. The sight of Illunor in the rear camera was the only thing that kept me grounded, as I almost felt like I was back at home on a road trip rather than returning to a fantasy feudal court, constantly evading death at every turn with the fate of humanity on the line. As such, and prompted by EVI, I barely had the wherewithal to take the planned detour.
A fact which did not pass by Edhel.
“I believe you may have taken a wrong turn, Emma,” he commented.
“Nah, I’m just taking the scenic route. I came from that direction on the way here, and you have inspired me to see the other road and I figure it should only add a few extra minutes to our travel time,” I said, gesturing at a paper map which I had referenced exactly once, “though on that subject, you seem to know these lands quite well. Do you have any recommendations on places to visit in the Nexus to scratch that itch?”
Illunor raised his eyebrow at the detour excuse, knowing full well this was not part of the plan. I worried that he might complain about the issue and but thankfully remained silent as he snacked on the contents of the misused sample storage unit. Edhel himself took on a more pensive posture.
“I’m happy to have been such an inspiration, Emma, though I am sure an explorer such as yourself has little need of such. I would normally suggest the skyward fountains of Verdellan or the cloud tides of Asturia, but that may be too casual for someone of your calibre. Perhaps the severed chasm or the fire marsh of Bhandahova may be more to your liking. Or perhaps…” Edhel leaned in, “I have heard rumours of a dragon in the glassy obsidian wastes of Vurcanar.”
I chuckled at that, knowing how I was fortunate enough to fish a dragon scale out of the nearby lake for the ECS. “The thought of going dragon hunting had certainly crossed my mind…” I mused aloud.
“Yet you sound hesitant. Perhaps it is too much for a newrealmer. Perhaps a slime or a dire rat might be more appropriate,” he said with a tease.
“No, it’s not like that! It’s” I stammered, before attempting to change course after realizing I had been goaded, “what I mean is, I was under the impression that dragons were an endangered species. Where I come from, hunting endangered animals is usually illegal, and big game hunting in general is frowned upon. We do make exceptions in the case of problem animals such as if a large predator starts hunting humans, but as a rule we prefer conservation and try to find ways of coexisting with wildlife such as the use of barrier fences and scaring away dangerous animals rather than being forced to cull their numbers. Having a species go extinct would prevent future generations from appreciating them and risks destabilizing the ecosystem they are a part of. Now if this dragon was actively razing villages and eating civilians and livestock, that would be one thing, but this does not look to be the case. I don’t imagine the Nexus has any settlements in this wasteland, and the dragon clearly wants to be left alone. Killing an innocent dragon would be murder.”
I grinned to myself after delivering a diatribe that would have made my tenth grade social and environmental studies teacher beam with pride, though by the expressions of my passengers my view did not appear to be shared. Edhel’s mouth was agape in shock and fascination, while the Venurian in the back seat merely huffed in disapproval.
“I assure you Newrealmer, there are no innocent dragons,” stated Illunor with a hint of terseness breaking through his otherwise regal demeanor.
“Illunor, I understand that Venurians have personal reasons for not liking dragons, but you can’t just extend that disdain to their descendants or those uninvolved just because they are the same species,” I said.
“If I may interject on your behalf, my lord, I believe I can address Cadet Emma Booker’s concerns,” said Edhel with a bow. Illunor nodded in approval.
“Very well, you may proceed,” he said.
“Thank you, my lord. My dear Emma, you must understand that dragons are not simple animals driven entirely off of instinct as it appears to be the case in Earthrealm. They are monsters. Intelligent, long-lived, violent, greedy, cruel, territorial, selfish flesh-eating monsters. They are evil by the very nature of their being, unable to change by their own accord, and unwilling to change when His Eternal Majesty offered them freedom from their nature. It isn’t that they want to be evil. As intelligent animals – intelligent monsters – dragons are capable of understanding morality, and many have tried to overcome their evil nature at great expense to themselves. A well intended and noble sentiment, yet a doomed one as like all animals, they all succumb to their nature in the end. Overcoming one’s nature is impossible,” said Edhel. His eyes took on a stoic, almost remorseful gaze as he spoke, and Illunor nodded with approval.
I was appalled by this claim, not by the contents so much as how blatantly false it was. As a representative of the human race, I was a living counterexample to his whole argument. We had remained physiologically unchanged as a species since the last Ice Age, and yet in spite of that, in spite of our many flaws, we had found peace and balance. If we could do it, anyone could do it.
“Will all due respect Edhel, that is nonsense. Monsters aren’t born, they are made. It is the mark of any intelligent species can adapt their behaviour to their environment for better or worse, and under the right care any so-called monster can grow to be a force for good,” I began, but while I searched for the right words Edhel shook his head.
“I appreciate your race is an empathetic one, Emma, your idealism is unfounded. As flesh eaters, a dragon must take the life of another animal or person to survive, or they will perish. As such, every dragon has taken a life. As long-lived creatures, they will have amassed a significant number of kills. As the land can only support so much animals, a dragon must be fiercely territorial and aggressive to remove competition, lest they starve. As such, even the most kind-hearted dragon alive must be violent and greedy, and their intelligence fuels this even more so if they know a bountiful land of morsels exists just outside their range.
Now perhaps a multitude of dragons may find a way to co-exist together in some settlement, but to support such a venture would require a large territory of prey, or a livestock animal. Perhaps they could support a large colony by farming grain for their livestock, but that would require effort on their behalf. As large animals, such efforts require a great deal of energy. Yet that size makes it easy for them to intimidate smaller races to do their labour for them, and to keep their client race in line dragons must be cruel. And even so, as their numbers grow so do their needs. As such, they must expand into the lands of their neighbours to survive until there is nothing left to devour, at which point they must turn against their own lest they starve. As such, it is the nature of dragons to conquer and devour. That is why there is no such thing as an innocent dragon,” finished Edhel.
I was speechless, not because I believed Edhel had a point, but because I was horrified at how easy he found it to rationalize the extermination of an entire sapient species. If this was how the elves thought, then it wasn’t the dragons who were the monsters. I suppressed that dark thought. Edhel’s thought process was a product of his culture, not a feature of his elven heritage. If there was any hope of peace between our people, I needed to show him there was another way of being. I needed to prove that co-existence was possible, no matter one’s nature.
I took a deep breath to steady myself before replying.
“That- that is a callous way of seeing things,” I began, though the shock was still there in my voice, “you speak as though there is no natural equilibrium with a dragon, that their only state of being must be to be cruel, to devour, to conquer. But I see things differently. In fact, I might wonder if a fledgling civilization might see the presence of a dragon as a boon rather than a curse. Being intelligent, the locals may be able to come to some agreement with the dragon. Perhaps they might leave some land as a hunting ground or offer up a share of their cattle or guard the dragon as it sleeps. In exchange, the dragon might allow them to build a town outside its mountain and protect them in times of danger. An equitable exchange. A civilization might even create artificial lairs to attract dragons for this very reason. True, some dragons may behave tyrannical towards their town, but a well armed populace of a large city would be more than capable of fighting such a threat, and a rational dragon might reason that threatening their own populace would put their reliable source of food and shelter at risk. You see, it’s all a matter of perspective.”
“You certainly are an imaginative one, Emma, to wonder up a quixotic world where the hare and the fox live together in harmony as equals. Even so, you seem to have ignored one key detail to such a society. What would happen should the dragon not be fed for months on end?” Asked Edhel with his eyebrow raised.
“The same thing as stranded a dozen starving, stranded Elves!” I spat back.
[Alert: Vehicle speed above recommended limit for conditions. Recommendation: slow down. ]
“I am driving slow!” I seethed, not realizing I had sped up with manual control enabled.
“I grow tired of this common prattle,” interjected Illunor just in time to prevent an awkward silence, “bard, play us another song.” “As my lord wishes,” said Edhel with a bow before turning to me with another smile, “perhaps a more soothing melody would be in order? A love song perhaps, to honour Cadet Booker’s compassionate nature?”
I said nothing as Edhel began to strum his lute again to the tune of a love story of a pair of doomed lovers named Ramian and Junette, hating his cheeky knowing grin that only served to get under my skin further as I focused on calming down and slowing the car back to a more reasonable pace before investigating a priority alert which I had been blinded to moments prior.
[Alert: hostile roadblock is absent, location unknown.]
Shit.
“Illunor, we may have a problem,” I said.
“Shush, Newrealmer, have you no class? We are almost at the best part! I’m sure it can wait,” replied the contextually clueless lizard.
I had never wanted to throttle Illunor as much as I did now.
“Illunor, shield, now,” I said with a raised voice.
“I don’t see-“ he started, pausing mid-sentence as his ears perked up.
[Alert: Multiple manafield and spell signatures detected!]
I took evasive maneuvers as Illunor tried to piece together a shield spell, fumbling it twice as panic appeared to set in and providing me with a reminder that Illunor was a civilian, not a soldier. A hail of arrows pelted the exterior of the truck, piercing but not penetrating the composite armour. I was tempted to do nothing but just drive away from the arrow fire, but a foreboding premonition of danger filled me as I recalled Sorecar’s hunter-seeker arrows.
Seeking to avoid that fate, I triggered the active defenses.
The smoke screens deployed around the vehicle, obscuring the sight of any who depended on visible light to see me. A barrage of decoy flares equipped with wooden cores shot upward at angles and diffusing to the side like a pair of giant wings which when combined with the MFD, short for mana-field dampener, inside the vehicle meant that the pelting hail of arrowfire softened to a whirr as the arrows whiffed over the top of the truck, retargeted away from the soft flesh of my passengers and even invoking friendly fire amongst the ambushers.
In the chaos, EVI and my drone swarm fed me complete tactical information on the ambush. Of the 26 individuals at the first blockade, 20 were accounted for, and 3 had died from friendly fire. Ahead at the bridge, 5 more of them were at the bridge where a barrier had been hastily erected to cage me in as the river valley was too deep to cross.
“Illunor, we need a bridge,” I said, taking stock of the wellbeing of my passengers.
The bard was huddled down low and suppressing his manafield, but otherwise rather composed. Illunor, on the other hand, was cowering in the gap between the seats with his hands covering his eyes and his tail tucked in.
“A bridge is no small request, Ne- Cadet Emma Booker,” replied Illunor, “and your ‘Emeffdee’ has blinded me to the outside of this moving death trap.”
“If I drop it, can you at least make a ramp?” I asked as I circled the battlefield. Or tried to, at least, as earthen ramparts emerged from the ground from a yet unseen source to cut off other avenues of escape.
“A ramp? Surely you don’t mean-“ he stammered.
“Yes or no,” I said.
Illunor paused, before taking an unsteady breath.
“Yes. But not with that Emeffdee,” he replied.
“Good. Steady your nerves and prepare to make a ramp ahead of us on my signal,” I said, “in the meantime, get your seatbelt on. This is going to be hairy.”
As I circled around to make my approach on the bridge, the final combatant made his appearance on a nearby tree, revealing himself as an elven mage. An alert focused on the air around him indicating he was preparing an unknown high-tier spell, and I locked the predator drone on him indicating the elf as a high-priority target if our escape plan failed, and I was forced to use lethal force.
If I was forced to kill.
It was one thing to know you may have to kill in the line of duty, but it was much harder to reconcile that with reality. No number of simulations could match the real thing, and a part of me wanted to simply offload the responsibility to EVI to keep my hands clean, but to do that would be betraying my duty as a human being. I breathed in deep and tried not to think about it, instead hoping to rely on the ace I held in my sleeve instead.
“EVI, ready the spell jammer,” I said unevenly.
“Acknowledged, the prototype Exo-Radiation Wave-Field Distruptor is primed. High risk target identified and locked, permission to engage?” EVI asked, forcing me to address the dreaded question.
“Negative,” I replied, “hold your fire. If the ramp fails, then you have permission to engage,” I said.
“Affirmative, on your mark,” replied EVI.
I lined up the truck with the bridge and bolted through the smoke, keeping a careful eye on the mage as I went. His spellform took on a more concerning shape as I accelerated, and I realized I could not afford to let him finish his spell. I triggered the spelljammer.
A terrible roar erupted from an array of speakers printed from mana-resistant materials that would have made Godzilla herself beam with pride. The sound was decidedly unnatural, gnarly, dubstep drop composed of an electric eel, a whale, a mountain lion, and a tyrannosaurus rex all being simultaneously assaulted by a swarm of angry cybernetic murder hornets as an equally chaotic wave of mana blasted outwards from the exterior of the truck, with the interior thankfully sheltered by audio and mana dampening.
The ambushing assailants cowered and panicked, and it was enough to cause the Elven mage’s spell to backfire in his face as his form exploded into ashes, meeting a horrific fate which I had tried so desperately to help him avoid. With all the combatants momentarily incapacitated or dead, I lowered the dampener and turned off the smoke.
“Ramp!” I shouted, snapping the lizard back to reality.
The Venerian nodded and hastily formed an earthwork ahead of us right before the blockade, and the truck leapt off the ramp with a not insignificant amount of air beneath our wheels. I braced for impact, regretting skimping on the shocks in the name of preserving materials, but the impact never came.
[Alert: Friendly spell designated ‘Feather Fall’]
Illunor thankfully had enough wherewithal to gently land the steel brick, and I sped off into the distance away from the trap that had unfolded behind us, leaving the interior of the truck in an awkward silence as we each processed our brush with death in our own way. “How many are dead?” I asked EVI.
“6 hostiles confirmed dead,” replied EVI.
I drove on in silence. Those were six deaths I had tried to avoid, and I became lost in thought as I wondered what I should have done differently to avoid the confrontation entirely.
Edhel broke the silence with a bout of laughter.
“Terrific! Absolutely terrific! Why, I can conjure up many a tale from this encounter alone! I live for this kind of inspiration!” Exclaimed Edhel a little too chipperly considering the circumstance.
“I would rather not hear stories about how I bravely ran away,” I moaned in deadpan sarcasm.
“You think too little of yourself, Cadet Emma Booker. It is plain to me that you are no ordinary rabbit. Make no mistake, I see it as a privilege to bear witness to the roar of a vorpal hare!” Said Edhel as he supressed his laughter, “though I am afraid with all the excitement that I must finish my song some other time.”
“How about I play some of our music?” I offered after the elf revealed his thrill-seeking side.
“Splendid, I would like that. Perhaps something of your ‘Roadtrip playlist’ you speak of? It sounds like a collection of your voyages,” said Edhel.
“That would be an improvement on the truth,” said Illunor dismissively as he eased from his state of shock, “it is little more than noise under the pretense of music.”
“Illunor…” I muttered to myself before turning the mic on, “no, no it’s not like that. I have terabytes of pre-recorded songs from various artists back home which can be played by… an artifice called a speaker. A playlist is a set of songs which are grouped together, usually to listen to in specific situations such as studying, partying, or travelling. The latter collection is what Illunor is referring to.”
I very deliberately chose not to reveal my ‘Unfortunate Daughters’ playlist.
“An artifice which plays music, and a magicless one at that. I must say, Emma, I fear for the bards in your realm,” said Edhel with a laugh.
“Your fear is misplaced, Edhel. Entertainers live like kings where I come from,” I retorted with a smirk of my own, “well, the ones with talent at least.”
“Well, well, I suppose I have to hear my competition!” Said Edhel with a laugh.
“Do as you must, though let it be known that I warned you,” said Illunor as he watched a play on his sightseer.
I had EVI compile a list of songs that left out content offensive to Nexian sensibilities or violating OpSec and as it compiled I mused over what type of sample spread I wanted to show off. Then it struck me. What better way to show off our culture than with some good old blue jumpers and nova rock! Sadly, jumpers were unavailable to show but I still had a whole list of modern artists to choose from.
Moments later, the car speakers sprung to life to the tune of ‘Innocent Youth of Mine. Edhel’s eyes lit up like a child visiting a zero-g gravity park for the first time, seemingly star-struck by the antique electric guitar and the synthesizer-drums in particular.
“What… what is this? I have never heard anything like this!” Proclaimed Edhel.
“Dreadful, isn’t it?” said Illunor, doing what he did best and pretending to hate it.
“Oh there is a lot more where that came from,” I said with a cheeky grin of my own, “this one is called ‘Innocent Youth of Mine’ by ‘Cannons and Poppies’. It’s part of the Nova Rock genre.
“And those strange instruments?” Asked Edhel.
“Oh, you mean the electric guitar and the synthesizer. They are electronic instruments, taking advantage of channeled and modulated electricity to create near any sound we can imagine,” I replied.
“Channeled electricity… are you suggesting these sounds were made by some form of lightning?” Asked Edhel.
[Suggestion: Avoid topic of electricity due to OpSec risk]
I nodded at EVI’s warning, thankful that it caught me before I discussed the very thing that all of my equipment ran on.
“It’s not exactly lightning, but close enough,” I said.
“If I had not witnessed to your display of power earlier, I might have perhaps been more skeptical of such a claim, but I suppose a lady must keep her secrets.” said Edhel with a raised eyebrow and chuckle, “but I digress, this music is most interesting.”
“There is a lot more where that came from,” I said with a cheeky grin of my own.
“If I ever have a prisoner in need of torture, I will turn to you first,” replied Illunor, “if you are willing to subject your peers to this madness then I cannot imagine what you would force upon your enemies before dunking them in ice.”
“In your dreams,” I retorted.
I played a few other songs including Astrodesee’s ‘Meteor Struck’, the Martian classic ‘Hotel Cydonia’ and even ‘Switching to Warp’ before Elaseer emerged from the distance, and I pulled up outside the gate to drop Edhel off.
“Here already?” Asked Edhel.
“Well, yeah. I was just running a quick errand, I didn’t want to go too far,” I replied casually.
“That was a distance worth at least five days of walking by foot, and you call that a ‘quick errand’?” Asked Edhel. I shrugged, and he laughed.
“Well in any case, thank you for allowing me passage in your car. I must apologize for my lack of gift or payment…” said Edhel. “Don’t worry about it, it was on the way,” I replied.
“I see, how generous. Perhaps we might one day meet again?” Asked Edhel.
“Maybe, but I’m not sure how likely that is. The academy takes up most of my time,” I replied, “though you never know. I still have a lot of quest hours to complete.”
“Is that so? In that case, I hope we meet again! Goodbye Cadet Emma Booker and farewell Lord Illunor Rularia,” he said. “And good travels to you, bard,” said Illunor.
I waved off Edhel and drove back to the academy, Illunor still sulking in the back seat.
“Perhaps next time, you should steer us away from danger?” Suggested Illunor.
“I tried, but we were tracked,” I replied.
I groaned inwardly at the additional work needed to fix the truck. EVI compiled a list of upgrades for future engagements, batting away my idea for a ‘turbo mode’ and a ‘jump boost’. Though at the end of the day, meeting the bard wasn’t a complete loss. It felt good to talk to someone almost normal for once, and I hoped I met him again.
Edhel Redoehdelnif
I watched as Cadet Emma Booker’s vehicle went off into the distance, getting one last look at the Earthrealmer’s strange artifice before turning towards the gate. The voyage was an exotic experience, not unlike that of a fever dream or a peak into a world completely alien to my own. Indeed, it was a struggle to contain my excitement and enthusiasm and process the experience rationally as I made my way through the southern gates of Elaseer and turned the corner of an alley before entering an impossible structure that did not exist.
“You are earlier than expected,” said the shadowy figure of my handler as I made my way to the meeting hall.
“The Earthrealmer’s means of transportation proved far more expedient than anticipated, my lord” I spoke as I knelt before him, “even with her unexpected departure from the anticipated road and the ambush we traveled for scantly more than an hour.”
“Yes, I will require a full report from you. Perhaps you can shed some light on the ‘smoke dragon’ my men claim intervened on the Earthrealmer’s behalf,” said my handler.
“Smoke Dragon, my lord?” I asked.
My handler responded by activating his sight-seer, revealing how the ambush had appeared from the outside. The Earthrealmer’s uncanny artifice traversed down the road, a pair of manafields displaying proudly from within until the archers began their assault. The artifice then transformed as smoke billowed out from its pores and wings sprung forth above until it was the form of a mighty wrym with a pair of glowing eyes springing forth from its ever extending head where it then gave forth a terrible unholy roar which sent waves of mana outward. The mage working to seal the area and trap their mark vapourized in an instant as his spell backfired. It was apparent to Edhel that his exceptional experience in the carriage was merely a muted rendition of the events unfolding around them.
It would seem the hare had the shadow of a dragon.
“I do have some insight, though I must confess the Earthrealmer did very little in the way of direct action. I suspect she has some unseen means of commanding and scrying through her artifices,” I said, “one which does not utilize magic as we know it.”
“Such a statement is heresy,” said my handler, “but such special circumstances are your reason for being. I will require you submit your memories for verification. What is your appraisal of the new realmer?”
“The girl is far more dangerous than a surface appraisal would suggest, though she prefers to conceal that power rather than utilize it out of a misplaced sense of compassion. Her people appear to have a boundless creative drive through which such artifices are birthed, though again it is misdirected towards more common applications. I believe that if properly tamed, this human animal may provide us with great works of art,” I said with a bow.
“I see. Does the girl know you work for us?” Asked my handler.
“She may harbour some suspicions, though did not voice them outright beyond concealing her knowledge,” I said, “though nothing significant. Provided our next meet is under believable circumstances such as a festival she should view me as cordial.”
“She has indeed proven clever,” conceded my handler, “very well, I will make arrangements for your paths to cross again. Perhaps I will arrange for her to be a contestant at the next inter-academy tournament. In the mean time, prepare your report and don’t wander far. This is a priority assignment.”
“As you wish, my lord,” I said with a bow and a smile.
Emma Booker had proved to be an interesting animal indeed, and I hoped our paths crossed again.

So we all thought that Glitchtrap was the digital consciousness of Afton, then the Mimic came along and threw everything off. Now we think that Glitchtrap is just the Mimic mimicking Afton’s behavior. However, I think that Glitchtrap could still be Afton’s consciousness hooked up to Help Wanted. Now I’m going to pull a Candy Cadet and tell you a story.
Vanessa was working for Fazbear Entertainment on their new VR game. She knew this really was just a big cover up, but she was powerless to do anything about it. She had an inexplicable interest in the history of Freddy’s. More specifically the mysterious killings and the unidentified murderer that ruined Fazbear’s brand. One day, when she was testing the game, she noticed something strange in the corner of her eye. A purple tape on the track in the introduction section. Once she collected it, she entered the main hub and saw it. The green figure of a humanoid rabbit costume was standing in the doorway. It didn’t look like Bonnie. She wanted to notify management, but once she listened to the tape, she wanted to take matters into her own hands. And besides, it’s not like management was going to do anything about it anyway. Vanessa continued to collect tapes. As she collected them, she learned what had actually happened to one of her coworkers Jeremey. Management just said that he had an accident and had to be put out of work. But it was so much worse than that. He cut off his own face with a paper cutter! She needed to find out why he would do that. But each tape she collected, the rabbit would come closer and closer. She noticed more details as it came closer. The costume looked hand sewn and very low tech. And that smile. It was so unnerving, yet somewhat comforting to Vanessa. Once she gathered 15 tapes, the woman on the other side told her to stop collecting them. But she came this far and her curiosity got the best of her. She found the last one and was surprised by the switch of mood the person on the tape had. She said that bring the tapes together was the only way to get rid of whatever this virus was. But that was not correct. Venessa unknowingly brought together all of the parts that this thing needed. She tried to manually face this virus, and it seemed to have worked. The game ran nominally, minus the weird green rabbit plush in the hub. But as the days passed, Vanessa began to hear voices in her head. She would spend more and more time in the game. Coworkers said that on occasions, she would be found talking to herself when the headset was on. She had the ability to communicate with this virus. It told her to make an in-game rabbit mask, and she obeyed. She didn’t know why, but it was like she couldn’t help but obey. She had the mask and the plush, so now she could have an actual conversation with this being. It explained that it was William Afton, and that he was trapped in this game to escape death. But that was impossible! Mr. Afton died many years ago. Fazbear’s higher ups said that he retired and lived the rest of his life in his house on a hill. But he told her his fate was much, much worse. He was so close to death, but he had a safety measure. He figured out how to copy part of his consciousness into a circuit board so that his memories, thoughts, his very essence can live on in case anything happened to his physical body. Vanessa remembered that the game scanned old circuit boards to expedite the process of making the VR game. That must have been how he appeared in the game. He also explained that he was the one that killed all of those kids back in the day. Vanessa couldn’t believe it. The co-founder of Fazbear Entertainment was the man behind all of these slaughters? At first she was horrified, but then she felt a sort of happiness. In some sort of twisted way, she found it funny that a man so bent on making children happy was the one that took the lives of so many of them. She knew in the back of her mind that it was wrong, but she couldn’t help but laugh. Over time, Vanessa, now given the new name of Vanny by Afton, continued to complete tasks for Afton, because he couldn’t do them in his predicament. She was reluctant to say the least about doing these things, but Afton’s influence was so strong that she couldn’t say no. One day, she quit being a beta tester for the VR game, and instead was hired on to be a security guard for the new Mega Pizza Plex. In this position, she would have access to areas that were of importance to Afton. More specifically, under the Pizza Plex. The entire building was built over an old Freddy’s location. The one where Afton’s body still is. Vanny was tasked with finally freeing Afton from his digital prison and creating a new body for him. While this was happening, Vanessa’s coworkers took notice of her odd behavior. From her spending a lot of time in the basement, to her incriminating search history, it was clear that she needed help. So management sent her to therapy. There, she was always so distracted by that voice in her head. She would talk and answer questions, but if the therapist ever got too close to knowing the truth, Afton made sure that they were silenced. Vanessa didn’t want to do it, she just wanted a way out. But she was in too deep. It was finally time to put Afton’s plan into action. To do this, Vanny needed some way to create a new body for Afton. She read through old files and eventually stumbled across the solution. Deep under the Pizza Plex, in the storage section, held the key. An endoskeleton that was specifically designed to mimic things. It has the ability to mold into any animatronic costume. All Vanny needed to do was activate the robot, and transfer Afton’s consciousness into the robot, which will be in Afton’s old burnt costume. But after she turned on the robot, she got a bit preoccupied with Freddy and a small child. They could hinder her plans, so she had to go and stop them. But when the kid stepped out of Vanny’s hideout, she could feel a weight come off of her shoulders and the voice’s suddenly stopped. Vanessa was unknowingly freed for Afton’s control. Without Afton’s puppet, he is stuck in VR indefinitely. However, the robot that was supposed to be Afton’s new body is now freed under the pizza plex. The program that was inside it initially is still there and still dangerous. Vanessa knowing this, goes back with the help of Gregory and Freddy to trap the Mimic in the basement. But the Mimic heard Gregory’s voice, so now it has a tool to escape. Vanessa now feels like she is finally free from this horrible nightmare.
That was my interpretation of the Glitchtrap/Mimic/Vanny story so far. Sorry it was a long read but I think it’s worth it. I’d like to know your thoughts.

I will be Charles is the story of a young man leaving his childhood behind and making his way to Basgiath. As I read the story I feels anemic, like I’ve left out too much, but it was never intended stand on its own, it’s mainly a character build for another chunk of story to come. Let me know what you think, be blunt and honest, but it’s my first fiction ever, so be gentle, like Tairn!
A time eighty years before the rebellion…
The headmaster said nothing as I gathered my bag and walked away, but his foreman, a large, solid, sharp man who’d spent the last four years alternating between driving me like a slave and teaching me to ride and fight and work hard and most of all how to be a man called out “remember your lessons boy, and make something of yourself. Nobody is coming to collect your body when you fail”. Other young men stood and stretched their backs as they watched me walk out the gate of the forced labor farm that called itself a boy’s school. Their expressions ranged from relief at the possibility that they too might escape this life to sad happiness as a couple of them waved their farewell. One week, I have one week to be there for conscription day. Then things change.
A fish from the stream and one ear of corn for a meal. That’s all I was willing to take from the field beside the road. I would have worked for it if I’d been able to find the owner. But time is short and I hadn’t eaten in two days. I could travel like this for years, working a little and seeing the land, but my mind is made up and my need for adventure and station is real. So I starve and I walk. Eating what I need, sleeping where I can. One goal pulls me along, the vision of living a life of my own choosing, of riding and fighting and being a part of something real… and the dragon, my own best friend and partner as we fly and fight and serve the king and the people of Navar. Not that they ever did a fucking thing for me. My loyalty is transactional, and my service is to the people, fuck the king.
“YOU THERE” a voice calls, not friendly but not angry enough to be the owner of the onions and potatoes I’d taken last night to make a soup of rabbit. The man pulls his horse to a stop ten feet away and looks down at me. “It’s a day in each direction to any town. Why are you here?” I look around completely confused, but know a noble’s ranger when I see one. “I’m walking to Basgiath, two more days that way, right?”. The ranger looks me over and sees no weapons but the hunting knife, just me and my large pack trudging along the road. “You may travel the road, and you may camp at the bridge you will reach by nightfall. You may take a rabbit and you may fish at the bridge. You will take nothing else. Agreed?”. I look up at him innocently, “thank you for the clarity Sir, I will camp at the bridge. I did take some potatoes yesterday, and an onion, for a stew.” The ranger grins and gives a little nod “what school?”. My shoulders drop a little, but I stand erect and answer truthfully “I am schooled at Piramin’s School for Boy’s, Sir”. The ranger laughs and shakes his head “NOBODY cares who you are boy. What man will you become? What school at Basgiath? I was infantry myself, for twenty years I wore the blue with pride, and last year I retired to become ranger of these lands”. I think about what he just said and almost change my mind, infantry was a safer choice after all, at least it wasn’t a lifetime commission, but my chin came up and my eyes locked on his, “Rider Quadrant, Sir”. The man grinned ear to ear and looked me over with a much keener eye, “you have it in you boy, arrive rested and strong, because once you’re inside they will try to kill you. It’s only the very strongest who survive that school, and even then, you’ll be flying a fucking dragon through the sky for years. Make your peace and bury your past. Nothing matters inside Basgiath except who you are that day.” He pauses for a moment and pulls something from his pack, “do me a favor, when you get there go to the Commander of the Infantry, his name is Wainright, and hand him this, tell him Eldric remembers him well. Then go get your dragon, ok?” The package is as long as my forearm, hard and heavy, and wrapped in a thick cloth. I put it into my pack securely and agree, “Commander Wainright, I will.” The ranger heads back the way he’d come, “good luck boy, study hard too but remember, it’s combat and dragons that keep the Riders alive.”
“Holy shit”, the words escaped before I knew it. As I topped the last ridge and got my first look at the face of my future my heart stopped and I stared for a full minute at the incredible thing that was Basgiath War College. If I’d known that view was so close I would have walked the extra hour last evening and camped atop the ridge. I’d been passing more buildings and houses, and a full on town lay nestled in the valley before the college. I estimated it would take all day to reach the gates, but maybe a good meal and a little extra sleep would serve tonight. I see no reason to be early on conscription day. Given the increasing number of wagons and travelers tomorrow would be a nightmare of long lines and military bullshit. I was used to it, and knew that the last guy in line had the same chance as the first, at least for tomorrow’s test.
Halfway through town I hear a familiar sound and turn off the road to a little band of shops one street over and sure enough, there sat a sturdy but pretty girl pedaling a sharpening wheel as she honed a short sword. A sweaty larger man, dark of skin and darker with the soot and iron dust on his face and arms came forward as I watched the girl, “new soldier eh? Have you a sword?”. I looked up and smiled at the man, “I’ll be a rider or a dead cadet soon, I was hoping to cross the parapet tomorrow with weapons of my own, since none are issued in the riders quadrant. I have no coin, but I brought trade if you’re interested”. The large man scowelled, “do you have any idea how many broke children stop at this very shop as a last chance before entering those gates? Hundreds, every year it’s the same. I have no money but here’s a chicken”. The girl giggled a bit but I simply waited politely for the man, after a moment he relented, “I see that you’ve grown up working. What have you to trade?”. That was my cue. I slipped my pack off and it made a heavy clunk as I set it down and began digging to the very bottom. The man went back inside to stoke a fire as I worked for his answer. Finally standing with a hatbox sized bundle I look the master weapon smith in the eyes and say “two things, actually three. I have enough Victik alloy to make a half dozen short swords, enough folded and fired stock to make two very nice longer swords, and last but not least, as my eyes shifted to the girl, four yards of pretty blue Berelli fabric, straight from the islands via Bravik last year. Lastly, I’m strong and offer my sweat and my back for the day. I could use the work and it looks like you could use a boy for a day. What I want in return is a few daggers, a short sword, and a good pair of boots”. The smith’s eyes, big with the revelation, pored over the metals, which were rare and valuable to the right smith, his daughter stood to see the fabric and both shared a look, then the man took the items and walked into his shop. “Get started” was the only answer.
Ten hours later the smith helped stack the last thousand pounds of ore. Heavy canvas bags full of slaggy sharp chunks of metal, that cut the arms and hands right through the bags. I wore the gloves, the smith did not. The girl still sat at her stone, honing infantry swords to perfection and selling dozens of them to young infantry prospects or their parents. Next door, the leather shop churned out boring but well made scabbards for swords and daggers as fast as the three ladies could go. As we finished a kind lady and her son rolled up with a large push cart full of cooked food and prepared meals on crockery plates. The smith called out to greet her and went to wash his hands. I followed and the girl finally got up from her wheel to pick out food for their dinner. The smith said, as we took turns at the luke warm bucket of day old water, washing our hands and arms, “you will eat with us tonight, and there’s a cot in the loft if you like. It’s better than you’ll find anywhere between here and Basgiath. You worked hard and well today. Thank you for being good help. Your new weapons are still tempering. We’ll take a look in the morning.”
Dinner had been wonderful, that older woman knew her craft and she knew what hungry working men and women wanted. Lots of energy laden greens, potatoes in a way he’d never had them before, and a large portion of meat with gravy. I didn’t ask what the meat was. It was fair size chunks, and dark. I think it was maybe goat or sheep, at any rate it was the best meal I’d had in years, and not a drip or a crumb went to waste.
I slept well and long that night, dreams of dragons and horses and hard work and the possibilities behind those gates. When I woke it was already daylight and I jumped from my cot to run downstairs. The smith laughed as I came down the ladder, “don’t worry boy, I’ve not pulled them out yet, and you have plenty of time to get there today.” I smiled huge, hoping for a couple of clean steel fighting daggers and a short sword, maybe a throwing knife if I’d earned it, but when the smith pulled the rack from the annealing oven my breath caught. There before me lay four standard daggers, two slightly longer knives with slightly curved blades and guards over the finger section that looked like a steel version of brass knuckles, a short sword with a heavy blade, and a longer sword, again, with a thick, heavy blade. I gawked as if I’d never seen fresh weapons before. The truth was that I’d been a forge monkey for a few weeks and I’d seen thousands of high production weapons roll out of the large sweat shop in Naisg where the bulk of standard issue weapons came from. But none of those looked anything like these works of art. “These are beautiful Sir, I’ve never seen high carbon black steel come out with a sheen like that.” The smith grinned, “you brought me the ore boy, surely you recognize your own hard work. This is what full hard steel looks like when alloyed with Viktik. This is a small fraction of what you brought me, and all of these are yours, if you can hone them and wait for the hilts to be finished next door. Should be ready in a few hours. Plenty of time to get to school this afternoon.” With the greatest smile I could manage I thanked him profusely and looked at the girl’s sharpening wheel, she stepped in front and mad herself scowl, “no no no. This one is mine and it’s for HONING, not sharpening. YOU start over there, and keep you grubby hands off my wheel!”
I laughed and got to work, quickly shaping and bringing the blades to the correct angle as the smith checked in over and over, “no, shallow is for slicing game. Make a combat blade with a thick blade, thick angle, and deadly sharp edge. Make it tough and make it sharp. Then take it to Mary and let HER hone it for you, she’s better at it and she won’t let you touch her wheel anyway.” Three hours later I delivered the blades to the leather smith next door and began to speak as the man shushed me, looking at the blades. “Rider eh? The smit did you right with these. You must be special. I know what to do, give me a couple of hours.”
Four hours later the smith and the leather smith and I stood between the shops admiring the weapons. The handles were all identically wrapped with fine leather and wire, the swords included lanyards to avoid dropping them from a flying dragon, and the two combat daggers were wrapped and bore the signet of the smith. The smith shook the leatherman’s hand and smiled, “you’ve done me proud. This boy work hard yesterday, so I paid him well. Now boy, you take these weapons up there and you make a man of yourself. And when someone asks you where you got the weapons, tell them!” The leatherman brought forth a brand new pair of boots and set them down, “now boy, listen. These are new and they’re excellent boots, but they will kill you today. The bottoms are slick and need wear. The tops are oily and stiff and uncomfortable until the oil steeps into the leather, and there is no way you’re walking the parapet in these. Tie them together around your neck, and wear them tomorrow. Season them daily for a week, then do nothing to them. Ok?” I admire my new boots and thank the man before running to the gates only an hour before the deadline for conscripts to enter the courtyard.
My pack was lighter, my weapons were fucking awesome, I was well fed and rested in spite of the busy morning. As I walked through the massive gates and into the place I would call home I looked around for the commander of the Infantry. It was my first mission, assigned by a retired soldier and apparently a friend of the Commander. I asked a half dozen people who looked like they should know and only got pointed to the line for Infantry. I dutifully walked to the head of the line and addressed the person standing behind the table, the one who seemed to be supervising more than working at the moment. “Excuse me but I have a message for the Commander of the Infantry, where can I find them?” The woman looked me over and obviously doubted I had anything worthwhile to tell anybody, but finally asked, “who are you and what is the message, the commander cannot be reached out here. She is busy inside, as you can imagine.” I stood tall while she spoke and nodded when she finished, “I’m not sure how private the message is, and I’m nobody. Inside you say. Fine, that’s where I’m headed.” She smiled and touched the man’s shoulder at the table, when he looked up she said “get this recruit’s name and send him inside to formation”, to me she grinned,”after formation there is a short reception for meeting each other. Find her then.” My smile fell a bit as I had to back her up a little, “I’m sorry no, I’m headed to the Rider Quadrant, I’ll have to deliver the message later I guess.” Her eyes were beautiful, but her smile disappeared as she wrote me off, “well you best get on with dying then, it’s a long day for all of us”
Six hours. Six fuckin hours watching everything from cocksure nobels to terrified children who had no business trying fall off the parapet. Finally I stepped into the shade of the turret, where the two cadets in snappy black leather sat taking the names of each recruit as they attempted to enter the Quadrant. “There is only one way forward”, said one of them to a trepid young man two places ahead of me. She pointed to the parapet, a narrow, smooth worn wall cap over two hundred feet above the river, “Riders walk that way”, she pointed to the long spiral staircase behind us, “or you’re a coward and can try to make it back down without getting shoved off the side. Either way hurry the fuck up, are you a Rider or not?” The boy determined that risking his life was better than the embarrassment of cowardice and set out along the narrow path. He didn’t even scream when he fell.
My turn at the table, “name?” The woman asked. It was a simple question, every recruit ever had been able to answer it. I hadn’t even considered the question and just looked at her literally dumbfounded. “Name” She repeated. “I, um, don’t have a name.” My answer was firm and confident, which only confused her more. Her partner looked up at me “give us your name, we don’t give a flying fuck what you’re running from, you’ll probably be dead in a couple of weeks anyway.” I just looked at her, my mind racing. I’d never needed a name before. ‘Boy’, or ‘hey’ had always been sufficient. I knew I’d have to have one, but honestly if I’d ever had a name it was lost long ago. “I will be Charles” I said, “I like Charles.” The man kept looking at me as if there was more, “Charles”, I repeated, and the man shrugged and told his partner in a mocking tone, “Sir Charles of one name stands ready to cross.” The two laughed as the woman pointed with a thumb, “good luck, cross the parapet and give your name on the other side and you will be Cadet… Charles.”
The least eventful part of the day, I looked at the parapet and on toward two children who seemed hell bent on falling off the thing. I shift my pack and walk out, it was breezy, but damn the thing was easily as wide as my shoulders, more or less flat on top and with rounded edges. I mumbled at the children ahead of me “it’s a fucking sidewalk, get up and walk.” As I reach the first of them, about halfway across, I reach down and grab his pack straps and haul him upright on the parapet, making sure his feet were set before I let go. His eyes met mine and I saw pure terror in them. “Hey, it’s a fucking sidewalk. Put your hands out and walk. Quit thinking about the ditch, walk on the sidewalk.” A full ten seconds passed before the kid got his wits and began moving again. We were only a few feet away from the other kid when they fell, the scream lasting longer than I’d expected as the body fell seemingly forever into the river below. I closed my eyes and said a short prayer to Malik before continuing, the boy in front of me nearing panic again, “hey, it’s another thirty feet, just look where you’re going and go there.”
I stepped off the little platform and gave my name when asked, and again the cadet seemed to want more than ‘Charles’. I looked at the pair of cadets and sighed a bit, “I have never had a name, I do not know if I ever had a name at all but they seemed to need one back there so ‘Charles’ is what you get. Just Charles. I have nothing else.” The cadets just looked at him and kind of rolled their shoulders, “well, Cadet Charles, welcome to the Riders Quadrant.”


So lets start
Academic Background

• Undergraduate Education:
  • Degree: BCom in Finance and Accounting
  • Institution: Top du college
  • GPA: 4.00
• Graduate Education:
  • Degree: MSc in Finance
  • Institution: T10 management college of india
  • GPA:3.92
• Certifications:
  • CFA Level 3 (non-chartered holder)
  • CPA\CA
  • US CMA
  • Certifications in Python, Java
• Standardized Tests:
  • GMAT: 770

3. Professional Experience;-6 years total experience with 3 promotion

• 2 year work experience in big 4 audit firm with 1 promotion
• 4 years work experience in big investment bank[ not jpmc or gs] with 2 promotion

4. extracurricular activities
. Humanitarian Work
NGO Involvement:
Teaching Underprivileged Children:
Duration: 2 years
Role: Taught children for their junior school and high school diplomas
Environmental Projects:
Activity: Joined a team to clean a local river
National Cadet Corps (NCC): Army wing
Achievement: Rose to the highest rank in the NCC
Freelancing Software Agency: run a freelance agency with more than 10 employees [including 5 software engineer] work manly on tech project for clients
SOME Hobbies;-

• Reading Literature:
  • Interests: Works by Russian novelists like Dostoevsky and Tolstoy
• MBA goals ;- switch to consultancy firm like big3[MBB]
• Target school; T10

I’m a junior in high school, female, looking to apply to USAFA and USMA to be Class of 2029. I feel pretty good about my application, and will be going to all three Summer Seminars this Summer, but I’m curious on what else I can add in my last year of high school. Here are my stats:
3.94 UW GPA, 4.33 W (will be 4.5 after this year) have taken maybe 5 honors and 5 APs (Euro, Calc AB, Seminar, Lang, Bio) and will take 5 Sr yr (Stats, Physics, CSP, Gov, Macro) School doesn’t do class rank but I would estimate myself to be top 20-30 out of 470.
35 ACT (34 math, 35 science, 36 english, 36 reading, and 9 writing, took it three times) 1450 SAT (700 math 750 english, took once bc school offered it for free)
By the time I graduate, I’ll have 4 years of varsity swim under my belt and 2 years of water polo. I’m not super good at either though so I don’t do club and haven’t won any league awards. But I can pass the CFA and will train hard for it this Summer. When I was younger up until age 12 I did martial arts for 5 years… but I don’t think that’s relevant anymore.
C/Capt in Civil Air Patrol, joined in 2020 and will be a Squadron Commander at my state encampment this Summer (will be leading 60+ cadets, it’s a big encampment). I will be Cadet Commander of my local squadron during my Senior year and have won two Gold Presidential volunteer service awards from 350+ service hours over 2022 and 2023. I’ll hit C/Maj before I apply to USAFA. I also do CyberPatriot competition, I did 5 years of it and my team made it to Semifinals every year.
I’m in the STEM leadership institute, which is a program at my school, and I’m in Mathletes club, and did Mock Trial for two years, was vice president before I quit to join water polo. I also teach kids from my parent’s country of origin English online for an hour once a week, have been since sophomore year spring.
I was hired as a lifeguard by my city and I’ll start working in a couple months when my paperwork goes through and hopefully I’ll do that until I graduate. Also, this Summer I’m trying to get EMT certified at a course in Texas. Ultimately I want to go into medicine in some capacity, majoring in biology at the Academy so I think this is a good step to take.
I think that’s everything. The biggest reason behind why I want to go into the military is because I’ve always wanted to be a doctor, and I feel like I have a sort of moral obligation to serve and make people’s lives better in any way I can. There’s more, I wrote my Summer Seminar essays about it a little bit.
Any input?

"Jett Reno shines with sarcasm and humor in Star Trek: Discovery, making her a standout character despite limited screen time. Reno's colorful past includes smuggling and survival, adding layers to her character and making her even more intriguing. With the possibility of appearing in future Trek projects, Reno's memorable presence may continue to delight fans."
Rachel Hulshult (ScreenRant)
Link:
https://screenrant.com/star-trek-discovery-tig-notaro-jett-reno-great-characte
Quotes/Excerpts:
"Introduced in Star Trek: Discovery season 2 premiere, Reno joined the crew of the USS Discovery after she was rescued from the wreck of the medical frigate, the USS Hiawatha. Since then, Reno has served in engineering, helping Commander Paul Stamets (Anthony Rapp) keep the Crossfield Class starship up and running.
Star Trek: Discovery season 5, episode 7, "Erigah" revealed more about Reno's past, which apparently includes working as a bartender, a shuttle pilot, and a smuggler, among others. While Lt. Sylvia Tilly (Mary Wiseman) and Ensign Adira Tal (Blu del Barrio) work to decipher the final Progenitors' clue, they seek information from Reno. Always busy working on the ship, Reno walks and talks, revealing pieces of her fascinating history. [...]
Comedian and actor Tig Notaro has imbued Reno with so much personality, that she makes a big impression with a small amount of screen time. [...]
Despite the trauma Reno has experienced, including losing her Soyousian wife during the Klingon War, she remains a breath of fresh air among the crew. Her no-nonsense attitude and ability to take every situation in stride make Jett an invaluable addition to the USS Discovery, and she's helped save the ship on multiple occasions. In some ways, Reno's sense of humor feels like a callback to Star Trek: The Original Series and Dr. Leonard McCoy's (DeForest Kelley) lovable irascibility. Although Reno only pops up a few episodes per Star Trek: Discovery season, her commentary and interactions with the other characters are often the highlight of the episode.
As revealed in Star Trek: Discovery's "Erigah," Commander Reno worked several different jobs before joining Starfleet. As Tilly and Adira search for answers about the last of the Progenitors' five clues, they learn Reno used to work with rare manuscripts. When they ask Jett about it, she replies that she "may have padded [her] résumé with that one." In reality, Reno smuggled old manuscripts. At Tilly's surprise, Reno lists off numerous "odd jobs" she had before Starfleet, including: "VIP shuttle pilot, deep mercury welder, [and] bartender at a cozy little dive on Ashalon Four."
This history fits Jett Reno perfectly, and she has added even more fantastical experiences to her life's story since joining the USS Discovery. Not only has she survived a starship crash and been stranded for nearly a year, but she has also traveled 930 years into the future. In Star Trek:Discovery season 4, Reno was abducted by Dr. Ruon Tarka (Shawn Doyle) when she caught him sabotaging Discovery. Reno helped convince Cleveland Booker (David Ajala) that he had chosen the wrong side, and escaped Tarka's force field prison using black licorice and a spare communicator chip.
With the upcoming Star Trek: Discovery spin-off, Star Trek: Starfleet Academy, the possibility remains open for Commander Reno or any other Discovery character to appear in the new series. While Reno doesn't seem a likely candidate for teaching Starfleet cadets, she would make a hilariously perfect guest lecturer. Considering this is Star Trek, there is also the possibility that time travel or some other science fiction solution could send Reno to one of the other ongoing Trek series. (If Ensigns Brad Boimler (Jack Quaid) and Beckett Mariner (Tawny Newsome) can cross over from Star Trek: Lower Decks to the live-action Star Trek: Strange New Worlds, then anything is possible.)
[...]
Whether or not Jett Reno appears in any future Star Trek projects, she remains one of Star Trek: Discovery's most memorable characters."
Rachel Hulshult (ScreenRant)
Link:
https://screenrant.com/star-trek-discovery-tig-notaro-jett-reno-great-characte

So I was the BC this year and as I was about to leave for the final time I stopped past the instructors offices one last time. And wow the sudden rush of emotions hit me. One of the Sergeants First Claas was my let 1 instructor and without her I really wouldn't be who I am. Unfortunately she left to Tennessee for 2 years to teach there, but she came back this year and really was there for me. The other SFC was there my let 2 3 and 4 years. His was of teaching and caring was tough love and honestly he was there in that way when I needed it the most and was going down the wrong path. Saying bye to them one last time was so difficult. Then was my SAI, a LTC. This man scared me when I first met him because he chewed me for breaking attention to look that he had walked in the room. But later I was his 16th BC that he had. And he's just seen me grow into a leader and he's been there to guide me along the way. He helped me with my college ROTC process and because I don't have any officers in my family, I want him to commission me. He's like my JROTC dad basicly. I'm just really gonna miss them, but I also know I have a new chapter in life soon. I've learned a lot throughout my years, but to any cadets reading this, I want to impart this advice, when you're doing something and if you are struggling to get through it, remember the why behind it. Not just oh so I can get an A on this test or just so I can get one rank higher, think of the big picture and your why behind it. Anyway that's about all I got, good luck yall!

Hello everyone, welcome to the third discussion about Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman. Hope you studied hard this week, I sure did!

Summary

Previously, in Thinking Fast and Slow, we followed Kahneman and Amos’s academic bromance in the wonderful world of decision making and biases. Our two main characters model two kinds of behavior of the brain. System 1, always on, is the intuitive one, that makes continual judgments and assumptions. System 2 is the slower one, only called when necessary, that produces rational thinking, mathematical reasoning, and is awfully lazy. We learned that even specialists are really bad at intuitive statistics and apply the law of small numbers when they shouldn’t.
Chapter 11: Anchors When we are asked to consider a possible solution to an estimation problem (eg, did Gandhi die after 100 years old?), our answer will be close to this number, like it’s anchored to it. Even when the proposition is obviously unrelated, like with a rigged wheel of fortune. It has many consequences, like with real estate prices and every negotiation. If someone starts one with an absurd price, make a big fuss and stop it until a more reasonable offer.
Both systems cause this behavior. System 1 because of priming (unconscious influence of a previous information). System 2 makes us start at the anchor, and then adjust, often not enough.
Btw, here are the answers to the questions, it annoyed me that they weren’t in the book. Washington became president in 1789. Waters boils at around 70°C/160°F on top of the Everest. Gandhi died at 78 years old.
Chapter 12: Availability We learn about the availability bias. When we are asked to estimate the frequency of an event, our answer depends on how easily we can retrieve examples from our memory. The more dramatic and personal the example is, the more it works. Making people list examples increases the perceived frequency, except when you ask too much. Finding 12 examples of something is hard, and your brain will interpret the cognitive fatigue as a less frequent phenomenon.
Chapter 13: Availability, emotion and risk Our perception of risk is biased by availability and the affect heuristic. If you feel strongly about something negative, you will evaluate the risk as stronger. It’s especially true with very small risks such as terrorism, which our brain is really bad at evaluating (it’s either ignored or given too much weight). And a recent disaster in the news will make us renew our insurance policies. There is a very negative correlation between benefit and risk in the mind of people. This means that if a technology is perceived as highly useful, you will perceive it as less risky, and vice versa.
Kahneman then presents two philosophies about risk assessment and how it affects public policy. There can be availability cascades around public panics such as the Love Canal controversy, fed by media frenzy and politics. Slovic thinks that risk being not objective (it depends on what parameter we prioritize, such as lives or money), the perception of the citizens should never be ignored. Sunstein wants risk experts to rule, because public pressure make the biased lawmakers prioritize the use of tax money inefficiently. Kahneman wisely stays in the middle of this merciless academic scuffle.
Chapter 14: Tom W Tom W is a fictional university student invented by Kahnmos. The goal of the exercise is to guess his specialty. The subjects are told the proportion of the students in each specialty (the base rate, humanities being more probable than STEM), and sometimes a (dubious) psychological profile. He’s described as a nerdy asocial guy who likes bad puns, and if you’re judging him, remember you’re on reddit, so don’t throw any stone here. Most people, even specialists, will infer that Tom studies Computer Science, despite the probabilities given by the base rate, that mean it is more probable for him to study Humanities. It’s because this tells a better story (they choose representativeness instead of base rate. Even if the added information is dubious. Once again, if system 2 is activated (eg by frowning), people will get closer to the base rate.
Kahneman then gives us advice to discipline our faulty intuitions. You just have to use Bayes’s rule and multiply probabilities in your head! Easy. If you cannot do that, I’m sorry you’re an embarrassment to your family and country, but just remember to stay close to the base rate and question the quality of the evidence.
Chapter 15: Linda or less is more Linda is another fictional character created to make us feel bad. She’s described as a left-leaning politically engaged woman. What is more probable, that she’s a bank teller or a feminist bank teller? Most people will choose the second. The problem is that feminist bank tellers are a subset of bank tellers, so there’s less of them (all feminist bank tellers are bank tellers, whereas only some bank tellers are feminist). So it’s mathematically less probable. However, it’s more plausible, tells a causal story, so our System 1 likes it. It’s called conjuction fallacy.
Apparently, Linda caused another controversy in the field of psychology, but Kahneman doesn’t go into details, probably to protect his readers from the gruesome imagery.
Chapter 16 Causes trump statistics We go back to a Tom-like experiment, comparing base rate to other information. When the base rate is neutral, people don’t care about it. But when it is causal and tells a story, the brain will take it into account more. The story (here, it is that a company’s cab cause most of the accidents) creates a stereotype in our head. And in this case, stereotyping helps improving the accuracy of our intuitions.
The author then discusses how to teach psychology to students. He describes the help experiment, where people isolated in booths heard a stooge pretending to die. A minority of people went to help, because of the dilution of responsibility (”someone else can do it!”). When faced to this result, most students accept it but it doesn’t really change their views, in particular of themselves. However, when shown some individuals and their choices, their ideas really evolved. Once again, we suck at statistics and love to make stories from anecdotes. But now we can hack it?
Chapter 17 Regression to the mean Every performance has a random element. That means that if someone has an exceptionally good run, in sports for instance, their results will go down in the future. The opposite is also true. This is called regression to the mean and happens all the time when there is randomness involved. But our brains love causality and will invent a story around it. For instance, this air cadet performed better the second time because I yelled at him, not because of randomness catching up with his bad luck. That’s why we need control groups in every experiment, because many sick people will get better because of time and statistics.

Useful Links

• The Love Canal
• Alar Scare
• Bayesian statistics

You’ll find the questions below, feel free to add your own!

Yelena watched the doorway through which the young Ashfield scion had just left for a few moments more as she pondered over the meeting they’d just had.
Precocious indeed, she thought with a smile.
A smile that only grew as her gaze flitted over to her childhood friend’s… complicated expression.
It seemed young William’s decision had come as much a surprise to his instructor as it had come to Yelena herself.
“He said no,” Joana said after a few moments.
Yelena nodded slowly as she reclined into her friend’s surprisingly comfortable chair. Given what she knew of Griffith, the Queen had half expected the thing to be harder than mithril when she first sat down - but it was surprisingly plush.
“Not without good reason,” Yelena said as she shifted about.
“Good reason?” Joana scoffed. “You offered him your daughter’s hand.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You offered all of your daughter’s hands.”
Yelena rolled her eyes at her friend’s tone. “And if he’d accepted I would have considered it a bargain.”
A minor scandal and the loss of a number of future marriage alliances was ultimately nothing compared to the ability to raid Kraken nests. And that was ignoring that a hypothetical means to slay kraken in deep water would undoubtedly have other applications.
Applications that would be incredibly useful in the months to come.
Though, perhaps, if young William’s plans came to fruition that coming storm could be delayed by a few years.
“…Are things truly that desperate?” Joana asked quietly.
“They’re not great,” Yelena admitted, massaging the bridge of her nose. “The Blackstones… I knew they’d resist the reforms, but to threaten open rebellion?”
She’d not expected that. Not even in her wildest dreams. Lindholm’s only human ducal house had ever been wilful, and their antipathy towards the Orcs who dwelled in the Sunlands was well documented, but surely even they could see why Yelena was doing what she was.
Regardless of what her critics said, her decision to end the slave trade in Lindholm was most assuredly not the result of ‘useless sentiment’.
Far from it.
Oh certainly, Yelena had no love for the institution of slavery, for reasons both moral and financial, but that wasn’t why she’d created the abolitionist movement.
With each passing year, the Homeland’s view of Lindholm grew ever more covetous. More and more the Sun Empress and Desert Khan’s rhetoric centred less on their ongoing deadlock with each other and more on the idea of ‘recovering wayward territories’.
Certainly, that could have been a reference to Old Growth as much as Lindholm, but Yelena doubted it.
Lindholm might have scared the Solites and Lunites into retreating by choosing to engage them over deep water, but ultimately those victories were borne of a lack of conviction on the part of her foes.
Had the two disparate fleets been willing to risk the permanent loss of a small portion of their mithril cores in order to achieve victory and push towards the mainland, they may well have been able to flip the allegiances of a number of Lindholmian houses.
Oh, certainly, the high elves and dark elves of Lindholm might have prided themselves on maintaining the strictures of equality that defined the Old Empire – but with either Solite or Lunite airships hovering over their family castles, she couldn’t help but wonder if some might reconsider their stances on their fellow elves.
No, while an invasion of Lindholm would certainly be costly, it was entirely within the realm of reason.
An invasion of the Old Growth however?
There was a reason the Wood Elves – as they named themselves – had managed to remain independent of both the other two, much larger, nations despite sharing land borders with both of them.
Their strange magics might have been muted and weak beyond the borders of their home, but within their territory they were nigh invincible.
No, if there was to be any ‘reclamation’ of any territory belonging to the old Aelven Imperium, it was likely to come from Lindholm.
To that end, the kingdom could ill afford to keep feeding people and iron into the meatgrinder that was the Sunlands. Could ill afford to keep orcs that might otherwise be valuable mages laboring in the fields under the eyes of watchful taskmasters.
Lindholm needed every mage-knight it could get – regardless of the color of their skin or the shape of their ears.
Yet after year and years of negotiations and attempts to shift public opinion on the matter, the North still remained willfully ignorant of that truth.
“Surely they know that even if they win, any kind of division between us will just see the Homeland sweep over them?” Joana said.
Yelena shrugged. “I have a feeling that Duchess Blackstone’s victories over both the Lunites and Solites has left her confident of repeating the fact should it come to that.”
Foolhardy, in her eyes, but no one had ever accused the Blackstones of being meek. Nor being incapable of backing up their sometimes insane claims. What other House could lay claim to an ancestry that had once beaten back the Old Imperium at the height of its power?
Where other human nobles had been sworn into the Old Imperium on their knees with their battered armies scattered to the winds, the Blackstones managed to resist long and hard enough that the Imperial Legions had been forced to come to the negotiating table.
Ultimately, the Blackstones had still been absorbed into the Empire, but they’d done so on their terms with their heads unbowed.
…Though it was somewhat ironic that nearly a thousand years on, it was now those same humans in the position of the old Imperial Legion while it was the free orcs who now utilized the same strategies as the old Blackstone tribes – right down to the Wyvern riders.
“I could imagine that,” Joana muttered.
“Is it strange that I think she might pull it off?” Yelena said – though only because she was sure that no one beyond her friend and silent guards was listening.
“Part of me wants to argue that, but… do you think it’s a human thing?”
Yelena thought about the Blackstones and the young man who’d just turned down a chance to be king one day.
“Perhaps,” she admitted.
Personally she thought it was because humans didn’t live as long – and there was more of them. When your life could be measured in but a single century, perhaps you were a bit more inclined towards taking risks that might make an elf balk?
…Risks like trying to take your first year team up against a third year team in the name of trying to avoid a war.
Or at least delay it.
“I still can’t believe he said no to your offer,” Joana said, something… complicated in her friend’s expression.
Yelena grinned at the sight, though she wrestled down the urge to ask a number of probing questions of her normally straight laced friend, who seemed to have a childish crush on a young man nearly ten years her junior – and her student beside.
Normally she’d be all over a scandal that delicious.
Alas, right now was work time. “I can. He gave me his reasons and they were solid.”
Well, solid enough. If you squinted a bit. And tried to think ‘human’.
Rather than all-but guarantee a war by having the Crown break off his betrothal, he intended to do it himself.
Loudly and publicly.
And if he won – and that was a big if – he’d all but destroy any kind of excuse the Blackstones might have to declare war in response. Indeed, by being ‘shamed’ in such a public manner they’d need to spend a few years at least regathering lost support.
After all, who would want to follow a house into a civil war just after their heir was publicly humiliated by a team of cadets two years her junior?
Academy fights weren’t just schoolyard squabbles. They were civil conflicts writ small. A microcosm of the constant jostling and jockeying of Lindholm’s houses.
In other words, they held weight.
If Willaim could beat his fiancée, Yelena knew she’d owe him more than she could ever truly repay. A few more years of preparation would turn an almost guaranteed defeat into something much more even.
Especially if she could scoop up who knows how many mithril cores that were otherwise just littering the ocean. Ninety percent of them would be of limited use immediately, but a few years would give her time to construct at least a few more airship hulls to house the devices.
All that was required was for William to win.
“Solid,” Joana scoffed. “His plan is to go up against a group of third years with a team of firsties.”
Yelena tried to keep the intensity she was feeling out of her tone as she leaned forward. “You don’t think he can do it?”
Joana opened her mouth before hesitating. “I… normally I’d say no. Talented as they are, the gap in experience is just too wide.”
“But…”
The dark elf rolled her silver eyes behind her glasses. “But, with William’s newest invention…” The woman paused. “Son of a bitch.”
For just a moment Yelena was treated to the rare sight of her friend laughing. “I can’t believe I thought he ‘just wanted to use it in a schoolyard fight’,” the Instructor said.
“Well, he sort of is, in a way.” Yelena shrugged. “It just so happens to be a very important schoolyard fight.”
Joana laughed. “I suppose it is.”
“Still, do you think he can win?”
Joana straightened up. “I genuinely don’t know. With his new invention he might be able to catch her off guard. If he can skew the numbers in his favor at the start, they might have a chance.”
Yelena frowned. Not exactly the ringing endorsement she wanted to hear, but that was part of why she valued Joana’s friendship.
Always had really, even when the girl had first come to court at the age of ten as a potential playmate for Yelena’s daughters and told her that her dress made her look like some kind of tropical bird.
Something Yelena realized upon closer inspection was true.
Ever since, the Queen had made a point of checking in with the girl from time to time, if only for the occasional shot of unvarnished truth.
It was a strange ‘friendship’ from the outside looking in, but one that got less so as time went by and the age gap became less stark.
“Well, let’s hope the human capacity for the nigh impossible isn’t relegated entirely to the Blackstones,” Yelena muttered.
Because if it wasn’t, the boy would either have to marry one of Yelena’s daughters or die.
She could not afford the knowledge in his head to reach the Blackstones. To that end, he’d either accept her offer – rolling the dice on the onset of war and all that might come with it – or he’d suffer an accident.
As much as it pained the royal sovereign’s heart to see such a bright and enterprising soul be snuffed out before its time.
Being forced to make such decisions was simply the price of wearing the crown.
“Still,” Joana said, and Yelena was grateful for the distraction as she looked up. “Will you actually leave him alone if he pulls this off?”
Yelena scoffed.
“Of course not. If anything I’ll up my offer.” She shrugged. “I’ll give him you, myself and half my court if it means getting my hands on what’s in his head.”
It was actually a little amusing how Joana flushed at her words, even as she shook her head.
“Yes, that sounds a lot more like you.”
Yelena nodded. Damn right it did.
Though as she did, a thought occurred to her. “Hey Joana?”
“Yes?”
“In your reports to me, didn’t you mention the Ashfield boy having some kind of nickname.”
The dark elf pondered the words for a moment before stiffening. “Hmm, he does actually. A rather apt one considering. Apt enough that I’m wondering if whatever he used to kill Al’Hundra is related.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What is it?”
Joana leaned back, her head craned upwards, as if seeking strength from above.
“Kraken Slayer.”
Yelena laughed. She couldn’t help it.
“Of course it is.”
“You killed Al’Hundra.”
William was still reeling a little from the conversation he’d just had, so he was actually a little caught off guard by a finger being shoved into his face the moment he stepped back into his teams quarters.
Ah, he thought. I promised answers.
Though it seemed that in his absence his team had managed to figure out some of those answers without him.
Glancing past Olzenya’s outstretched arm, he saw Marline shaking her head – as if to vehemently deny she’d told them anything.
She needn’t have bothered, her geass precluded it as an option. Hell, even once everyone found out it would preclude it as an option.
Which was for the best for the moment because now he wasn’t so much trying to hide what he’d done as how he’d done it. Admittedly, Marline didn’t know anything beyond the broadest details, but she knew enough to know that it was some kind of enchantment combined with alchemy.
Now it was possible the forces working against him – or rather simply to profit off him – had already figured that out and he’d hear the alchemy lab exploded any moment now, but he’d sooner put it off for as long as he could.
To that end, he turned to Olzenya – though not before politely lowering her pointing arm.
Something that, to her credit, the high elf allowed – actually looking a little embarrassed by her outburst and thus rudeness.
“Honestly, I was expecting something like that to come from Bonnlyn, not you,” he said to the slightly flushed high elf.
As he glanced over toward where the dwarf was sitting, she shrugged. “I realize I may not be the most classically polite individual around, but I’ve been a merchant long enough to recognize when someone’s got a trade secret they want to keep close to their chests.”
If anything, Olzenya flushed harder, as while she might not have been familiar with trade secrets, she was most definitely familiar with the notion of house spells that needed to be kept secret.
“I also thought ambushing him at the door was a little rude,” Verity murmured from the back of the room.
Olzenya coughed, before backing up. “Of course, I apologize for that William.”
More bemused than anything else, especially as the elf curtsied, he waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Or, understandable, I guess.”
“Good,” Ozlenya smiled, glad for his acceptance… before she shouted again. “Because you lied to us.”
“I did?”
“He didn’t,” Marline said. “He said he had something to bet against Tala.”
Indeed he had, something he’d kept hidden under a sheet. After all, he’d not wanted his big surprise to be spoiled by the rumors of his coming beating him to the cafeteria.
And they would.
Rumors in the academy somehow managed to move at light speed.
“He implied it was gold,” Olzenya shot back.
“And you said Tala wouldn’t go for it, but you came with us anyway,” Bonnlyn said.
Indeed, he had implied it was gold. Or ‘something valuable enough to catch her interest’.
“To comfort him after she shot him down,” Olzenya said. “Instead I damn near tripped over my own feet in front of everyone when he pulled an honest to goddess mithril core out of his ass.”
William was actually a little thrown off – and amused – by the sudden display of crassness from the noble girl.
“But he didn’t lie.” It was actually a little surprising – and heartwarming – to hear Verity speaking so forcefully.
And that Olzenya didn’t immediately snap at her for doing so. The team really had come a long way in just a few months.
Ah, the joys of shared suffering, William thought as he watched the girls bicker amongst themselves.
“As I’m sure you’ve all guessed, I have indeed been less than open about a few things,” he said, silencing all of them – except Marline who’d yet to speak in the first place. “With that said, I’ve never once lied to you about my end goal.”
“Breaking off your betrothal,” Marline said finally.
“Breaking off my betrothal without starting a war,” he said. “If it were that easy, the Queen would have done it for me just now.”
“You met the Queen?” Olzenya sounded a little faint.
“I did.”
Oh, how he did.
“Oh ancestors, please don’t tell me you hit on the queen!?” This time Marline sounded a little faint.
And he actually felt a little offended. “What!? Why would you think that.”
“You’re doing the same thing you do when we talk about Instructor Griffith,” Bonnlyn said with studiously neutral voice. “Or Instructor Morline. Or Instructor Flen. Or some of the guards.”
“Or that one cafeteria lady,” Verity chimed in, a little red in the face.
“Or the-”
“I do not!” He’d finally had enough of these aspersion on his character.
Across the room, a number of sighs rang out, even from the elves.
“At least now I knew why he never checked me out,” Bonnlyn said. “He’s got mommy issues. And I’m not old enough to tickle them.”
“Still, the Queen?” Olzenya hissed.
“I mean, have you seen her?” Marline muttered back. “I mean, I don’t agree with him… but I get it.”
“I didn’t ‘perv’ on the Queen.” Some part of him died on using such childish language. “We had a meeting about my plans and… what occurred with Al’Hundra. Needless to say, the fact that I’m here means she’s agreed to go ahead with them and I’m also to keep quiet about anything I may or may not have had to do with any Kraken going missing. Or their cores.”
He deliberately left out the royal marriage offer.
Still, with those words the room went silent. After all, if the Queen had told him to say nothing, he was expected to say nothing. Just because the North in general didn’t have much respect for royal authority didn’t mean the rest of the kingdom did.
Quite the opposite.
“Well, if the Queen has commanded you to remain silent, I suppose there’s nothing to be done,” Olzenya muttered. “Though I would like answers some day.”
“Hell, I’d like to know why you brought Marline in on your plans,” Bonnlyn said, glancing at the Dark Elf. “You know, and not the rest of us.”
There was no missing the hint of hurt there – which he understood.
“I can promise you it was purely a matter of convenient circumstance,” he said. “And I can promise you, I didn’t confide in Marline for free.”
All the girls glanced up as the dark elf nodded slowly. “He’s not lying – though I can’t say anymore. Literally. It’s a price I paid willingly, but one I doubt any of you would be interested in.”
Almost as one, he could see the lightbulbs turn on in everyone’s brain simultaneously – except for Verity, who took a few seconds.
‘Geass,’ thought none of them said it.
This time though, when the girls looked between him and Marline, there was a definite sense of wariness to it.
“Well, I suppose there’s nothing else to say then,” Bonnyln said. “I guess we should…”
“…Go to bed,” Olzenya nodded warily.
William grinned. “Good idea. Big day tomorrow and all that.”
That was an understatement, and he could tell everyone was thinking it as they made their way over to their rooms.
Still, it was true all the same.
They’d need their rest if they wanted to stand a chance tomorrow.
Indeed, they’d need every advantage they could get.
To that end, William could only hope he’d stacked the deck in their favor enough to matter.
…It took him a long time to get to sleep.
When he did awake, in the early hours of the morning, it was to the sound of an explosion.
In the direction of the old alchemy labs if I’m not wrong, he thought with a grim smile.
It seemed someone had decided to investigate his storage room even sooner than he’d anticipated.
Annoying, but it hardly mattered at this point in time.
All that really mattered was going back to sleep.
He had a big day ahead of him, after all.
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The master of ceremonies glanced at the paper in his hand, and a glimpse of confusion showed on his face.
Something was wrong.
“And the third and last team representing Farcrest. Lowell’s Orphanage!”
Elincia clung to my arm, fear and impotence reflected in her expression. We were supposed to be called Rosebud Fencing Academy during the tournament. I clenched my jaw and glanced across the pavilion, giving [Awareness] free rein. Lord Osgiria gave me a mocking look.
I cursed. Among the nobility, everything was appearances. The fact that Farcrest had to resort to a poor orphanage for representation spoke badly about the state of affairs in the territory. The nobles around us exchanged funny looks.
“Keep your heads up. That’s our call,” I said, loud enough for the whole pavilion to hear us. If nobles thought this would weigh upon our shoulders, they were wrong.
Ilya took position by my right as the team captain, and we entered the crescent-shaped arena. The cheering died. Our magnificent uniforms didn’t fool the crowd anymore. I reached the Marquis's side and saluted the VIP box. Only after Prince Adrien started applauding did the rest of the nobles acknowledge our presence.
The commoners in the stands hesitated to cheer for us. This wasn’t a gentle world. They didn’t care about the kid’s feelings. I glanced over my shoulder. Wolf was unfazed, and Zaon moved his lips, repeating, ‘Nervous is good’ repeatedly. Firana, on the other hand, was furious.
“Tough crowd, uh?” I muttered.
“It’s only expected. Orphans don’t get good classes. There is no reason to cheer for us,” Ilya replied with a grin. “Yet.”
Did she look so mature back at the carriage?
The crowd’s attention lingered on us for an instant before the next team entered the arena. To my surprise, a single team represented the royal family: a group of cadets from the Imperial Academy. Five young cadets dressed in plain black, guided by Holst, entered the arena. The crowd came back to life. Considering the opulence of the other teams, the uniforms of the Imperial Academy cadets were disappointing. Even my group was better suited to the occasion.
Holst stood by my left, saluting the stands with a dull gesture.
“Robert Clarke, good to see you still among the living,” he greeted me with a bored tone.
His words, however, sent a shiver down my spine. Did he know assassins had tried to kill me a few days before? Captain Kiln had sworn to keep it a secret. The coincidences piled up. Holst knew about the attack and asked Lyra Jorn’s help with the library when Luzian Abei had a small army of Scholars and Scribes at his disposal. I couldn’t help but think Holst was still in contact with the culprit.
“Preceptor Holst,” I coldly greeted, my brain too busy to formulate a more wordy sentence.
“I didn’t expect to meet my former students,” he added, looking past me at Ilya and the kids. “Certainly not in these circumstances.”
I swallowed my anger. This was a golden opportunity for the orphanage. Watching the skill of the imperial cadets could help me understand why Sir Janus had been the only commoner in Farcrest to assist the Imperial Academy. Even if we lost the tournament, we could improve our chances of getting them accepted into the Imperial Academy, putting them in the same echelon as nobles.
“Do you trust the ability of your current students to win the tournament?” I asked, examining the cadet’s faces. Three humans, a half-elf, and a harpy. They didn’t seem thrilled to be part of the tournament.
Holst laughed.
“These idiots aren’t my students. These five failed their first year. If they don’t win the tournament, they will be kicked out of the Academy,” he replied, shrugging. “For failures like them, I’d say they are the favorites to win the tournament.”
A glance at the Imperial Academy team revealed their strong shoulders and steady feet. Despite the lack of fashion, they looked like trained warriors instead of pampered noble kids. Their faces had lost the roundness of childhood, and their calm demeanor and sharp eyes revealed an intense training regime. I hoped not to bump into them until the later rounds of the tournament.
Our conversation was cut short because the Osgirian teams entered the arena. First, Lord Osgiria, then Lord Nara, and finally, a man dressed as a knight, followed by a group of kids in mismatched uniforms—each one with the colors of their respective houses. Lord Osgiria stood by Holst's side and greeted the VIP box.
If Captain Kiln were right, our team would fight Lord Nara in the first round. I expected the man to be a merchant with a comically large belly. Instead, he looked like a cunning gray fox. I had to remind myself that buying a way into nobility required a skillful negotiator.
“Three teams, Lord Osgiria? You don’t seem too confident in your chances,” Holst casually said.
The Imperial Academy had to be a powerhouse within the kingdom because Lord Osgiria swallowed any snarky remark.
Lord Herran, a tall and muscular redhead dressed in full warrior attire, entered next. I remembered him from the feast—boisterous, talkative, determined. The black mana-repelling axe hung from his belt, causing my stomach to feel sick if I looked for too long. House Herran only had two teams, one led by Lord Herran himself and the other by a man who could be his twin. Only half of the team members were human; the other half were different flavors of beast folk.
More than half of the kids had bright red hair like their lord. I wondered if red hair was a dominant gene in the Herran Dukedom because the kids looked healthy. There was not a trace of the infamous Habsburg chin. They were tall and robust like their lord.
I tried to glance at the axe’s runes, but Lord Herran was too far away.
“That’s lord Herran and his army of copperhead bastards,” Holst pointed out, laughing at his joke.
I doubted that having a dozen children the same age was normal, even more so for a noble, considering how difficult succession could be. Lord Herran must’ve loved to spread his genes.
“It’s okay for him to present his… illegitimate kids in an official event like this?” I asked.
“Do you like gossip, Robert Clarke?” Holst raised an eyebrow.
“I like to be informed,” I replied.
Holst seemed satisfied with my answer.
“Lord Herran is one of the few Combat Prestige Classes in the kingdom. He has the [Conqueror] Class,” Holst replied. “It’s only natural that he can do whatever he wants. Not even the king has enough power over Lord Herran to stop his… reproductive impulses.”
I nodded. The relationship between the royal house and the great three dukedoms was more complex than I initially thought. According to the stories, Combat Prestige Classes were, in essence, one-man armies that could create whole countries around their power. I wondered what kind of monsters the royal army found in the Deep Farlands to be obliged to retreat.
After Lord Herra, Lord Gairon entered the arena. The Gairon House was arguably the second most powerful family after the royal house, and their uniforms reflected their status. The blue was rich and deep, and the gold shone under the winter sun, seemingly casting the few clouds away. The crowd yelled and cheered. It wasn’t surprising. Lord Gairon was a tall, tanned man with hair the color of ripe wheat—the perfect poster boy and leader of the anti-war faction.
“He has to go down if we want the royal faction to have a chance,” Holst said.
It suddenly hit me. Holst and I technically supported the same faction.
“Lord Gairon is also a Prestige Class?” I asked.
“A [Sacred Knight], yes. Rumor says he reached the mythic level sixty,” Holst replied. “Let’s hope their teams are more… farming inclined.”
The crowd became more tame after the three big houses made their entrance. Lord Vedras received less than half of House Gairon’s support, probably because of the tax disputes between Farcrest and the Vedras dukedom. He had brought three teams.
Duke Jorn’s presence almost caused the arena to become completely silent—Holst told me he was also a high-level Prestige Class, a Shadow Stalker.
“That sounds dangerous,” I pointed out.
“Sellen Jorn is one of the most dangerous men in the kingdom. His mere existence was enough for the king to create a whole new duchy,” Holst said. “Take an Assassin and a Shadow Fencer, mix them, double their powers, and then double them again. That’s a Shadow Stalker in a nutshell.”
I tried to imagine it. The Assassin who attacked the orphanage would have had a hard time with any class without a skill like my mana blades. I had been lucky to have a favorable matchup against him; otherwise, I might have been dead. His capacity to disable my movement was scarily effective. A man with the skills of an Assassin and a Shadow Fencer had dangerous implications.
“Prince Adrien wanted Sellen Jorn as his Master of Assassins, but he didn’t want to leave his people in the north,” Holst said. “Walls, doors, bars, locks, nothing can stop a Shadow Stalker. Only the woven barrier of several high-level Fortifiers can stop him. Or so it’s said.”
Gears turned inside my skull. I wondered if Duke Jorn was involved in the disappearance of the evidence of Raudhan’s poisoning. He certainly had the skill to move unnoticed through the Great Hall. Stealing a box with shards of glass would be a walk in the park for him.
The rest of the teams passed in a blur as my mind reviewed the party's events. Sellen Jorn was undoubtedly suspicious. His lack of presence was as unnerving as it was useful for an infiltration mission. Could he be involved in Raudhan’s poisoning? Lord Vedras had denied the existence of any co-conspirators, and we were almost entirely sure that Raudhan hadn’t been poisoned by Ashroot.
Duke Jorn's political positioning was hard to determine. The northern dukedoms were poor, and just like Farcrest, they served as a bulwark against the Monster Surges. Four families controlled most of the kingdom’s economy and politics. House Gairon, House Herran, House Osgiria, and the Royal Family. The northern dukedoms didn’t benefit from the current trade routes and wouldn’t directly benefit from a new trade route into the Kingdom of Tagabiria.
However, they would benefit from a closer relationship with the royal family.
Duke Jorn had no reason to poison Captain Kiln.
Ilya tugged the sleeve of my jacket, bringing me back to the present. The master of ceremonies was finishing a long speech about the legacy of Stephaniss of Farcrest, the previous lord of the city and the Marquis's grandfather. Even the Marquis seemed bored.
“Prince Adrien will draw the matches for the first round!” The master of ceremonies announced.
Prince Adrien came forward, and an assistant brought a glass bowl filled with small wooden rods. He put his hand in the bowl, picked one randomly, and passed it to his companion. The woman dressed in purple read it out loud, her voice magically amplified. Her pleasant contralto voice made me think she was a singer.
“House Nara versus…” she received the second wooden rod. “Lowell’s Orphanage!”
Just like Captain Kiln had warned me.
I didn’t expect us to be the opening fight. The other teams returned to the pavilion, and a group of Scribes carried the System Shrine Shard embedded in its copper nest to the center of the arena. I assumed it was there to ensure all participants met the requirements for the tournament.
“Let’s go, team,” I said.
We formed next to the Shrine Shard and in front of Lord Nara’s team. The master of ceremonies activated the blue orb, and the kids' names, classes, and levels appeared before us. Luckily, Lord Nara and I were exempt from the crystal ability. Being outed as a Runeweaver wasn’t part of my plans.
Belya Nara, Geomancer Lv.3
Arel Nara, Warrior Lv.5
Lino, Soldier Lv.9
Jan, Archer Lv.3
Aiwin, Courier Lv.7
Firana Aias, Wind Fencer Lv.1
Ilya, Hunter Lv.2
Zaon, Classless Lv.1
Wolf, Classless Lv.1
The System prompts might have been big enough for the crowd to read because a murmur rose from the stands. I didn’t need [Awareness] to understand the commotion. Half of my team was classless in a world where Classes were everything. Lord Nara also seemed to notice the discrepancy between our teams.
“I’m feeling generous today, Mister Caretaker. I will gladly accept your surrender and spare you the embarrassment if you apologize for wasting our time,” Lord Nara said with a mellow, totally fake voice. “You can save the kids the shame of losing in front of their countrymen.”
The master of ceremonies looked at me.
“What do you think, Ilya?” I asked.
“The team is ready, Mister Clarke. We fight,” she replied without any hint of doubt.
Despite Lord Nara’s clever expression, he was underestimating us. I couldn’t blame him. He had lived all his life in a world where value was determined by class and level. Developing an eye for people wasn’t as helpful as on Earth, where it could mean the difference between life and death.
“We fight,” I said.
“Don’t say I didn’t extend the courtesy of an honorable withdrawal,” Lord Nara grinned, his fox-like eyes turned into thin lines.
The master of ceremonies nodded.
“The Rules are simple. The team that loses the coin toss has to choose its first fighter, and then the winning team chooses its opponent. Then, the roles change. Every team has two picks and two counter picks, for a total of four fighters,” the master of ceremonies explained, pulling a gold coin from the pocket.
I nodded. There was a level of strategy involved in the pairing phase. I could pair Firana against their weakest member to ensure a vast point difference. Or I could choose Zaon to keep things equalized. If I were Lord Nara, I would leave the Lv.7 Courier outside the selection. As fast as they were, they weren’t a combatant Class, but on the other hand, even non-combatants could develop useful masteries.
Zaon had a good matchup against the Soldier and the Warrior, as their combat skills were on the ‘basic’ side of the spectrum. However, the Archer, the Geomancer, and the Courier could present a problem to him. Wolf also had a bad matchup against the Archer and the Geomancer because he relied on solid and static positioning to use his muscles. Ilya and Firana had good matchups against the enemy team, but the enemy Geomancer worried me the most. She wasn’t just an Advanced Class, but a relative of Lord Nara.
“Here goes the coin,” the master of ceremonies said. He threw it high and caught it mid-flight.
Lord Nara kindly offered me the call.
“Heads,” I replied with a grin.
“Heads,” the master of ceremonies said, revealing the coin.
[Awareness] didn’t disappoint, but I made a mental note to keep it hidden from Ilya. She wouldn’t be on board with blatant cheating, even if we had the disadvantage. As cunning as Ilya was, strategy and cheats were completely different.
Lord Nara huffed. “Lino, you go first.”
The Soldier kid stepped forward. He was tall, probably a year older than my kids, but [Awareness] told me he was nervous. Soldier Class was painfully close to no class at all.
“Zaon, you go first. Is that okay with you?” I said, hoping the combination of Light-Footed and Lv.2 Longsword Mastery would match a Lv.9 Soldier with a couple of skills under his sleeve.
Zaon nodded.
It was my turn to choose and Lord Nara’s turn to counter-pick. “Ilya, you go second,” I said.
Ilya came forward, prompting a laugh from the rival Fighter.
“Do you want to fight the gnome, Arel?” Lord Nara asked.
“Yes, my lord. I’m confident I can get a ten-point lead over a Gnome Hunter,” Arel Nara replied.
A vein popped on Ilya’s forehead.
“Good. I chose my cousin Arel Nara for the second fight,” Lord Nara said.
Then, Lord Nara selected the Archer boy for the third fight, which put me in a tough spot. The Archer and the Geomancer were hard matchups for Wolf, and I lacked a fifth or sixth member to play around it. Nonetheless, the Archers weren’t known for their vast arsenal of skills.
“Wolf, you go against him,” I said.
Wolf nodded.
“Which leaves us with the last pair,” Lord Nara said with a mocking smile.
“Firana, you go last,” I said.
“Belya, my daughter, will be my last pick,” Lord Nara replied.
The dueling pairs were ready.
“So be it. The tournament's first match will be between Lino the Soldier and Zaon the Elf,” the master of ceremonies said, his voice suddenly amplified again as the Scribes took the System Shrine orb away. “Contestants, please go get your equipment. May the System bless you all.”
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I read a bunch on what entails being a combat engineer but I’m really not quite sure what a field engineer is. What I can tell so far is that there’s a big machine that u use to physically poke holes into the ground and “destroy” it or smth I’m not sure. Does anyone know what I’d be doing as fd engr pro term cadet? Thank you!

Honestly, when it was announced I thought that it could be a good idea but now all I’ve seen from the NEP programme is sailors being left behind for the sake making sure the NEP cadets have fun and sign longer contracts.
I know a lot of actual sailors who have been wasting away on pat platoon waiting for their initial trade course to start. Or been unable to get any actual sailing done because they get bounced between down boats. Or told that they can’t sail because they aren’t qualified, but they can’t get qualified because they don’t get to sail.
Now I’m seeing 1 year contract NEPs, with no trade and no requirement to extend, getting NETP before actual sailors. They’re doing dive courses, I even heard of some attending clearance diver selection (might be a rumour), before actual sailors who have been requesting it for years. They’re getting flown out to Hawaii to sail home with ships while fully committed S3s are begging to get a sail. They’re getting to do things that require OFP before they even have an O.
The programme is a complete ruse designed to make these people have a fun year that they can brag about to their friends and hopefully they’ll sign a real contract. Morale in the fleet is getting beat down lower everyday and watching these people come in and take your spot on the course or sail you’ve been dying to get isn’t doing any favours.
It doesn’t even make any sense for the navy to be spending the money on these people getting courses they don’t need. Why would they ever need a dive course if they only have to do one year no strings attached. With the state of our funds it seems like a big gamble to take with the hopes of getting them to resign.
Edit: I have confirmed that the clearance diver NEPs is not a rumour. They actually somehow got to do the selection…

~First~
(Got up Early to talk about the CPAP machine and such. Only to be given an appointment on friday. So yeah, in trying to solve a sleep issue I’m giving myself more of one. Incidentally Friday will be late due to well, the CPAP retrieval and tutorial)
The Pirates
“So, they’re here.” Agenda says contently as she finishes feeding her fussiest little girl.
“Yep!” Jingay chirps happily as her freshly hatched little children are happily playing on the glowing, shimmering platform that her rattle has brought to life. She can’t do anything complicated, but a soft shiny platform for her little slithers to play around in? She can do that, but it takes some focus. The tiny fluffy child of Vuni is cuddling the strong Jungle Nagasha tail that wraps around her own tail.
“How formal a call do you think we should make?” Miles asks in an amused tone.
“Not especially, after all the babes ensure it will never be properly formal, they’re too happy and healthy.” Agenda notes.
“I blame you for that.” Miles says and Agenda laughs.
“If you don’t want the blame I’ll take it.” Vuni remarks.
“You’re just as guilty.” Miles says and Vuni laughs in response.
“What’s going to happen?” Jingay asks and Miles is pensive for a moment.
“I don’t know.” He notes as his hand gently rubs the handle of his revolver. The constant rubbing had necessitated him re-burning the names of his family back into it. “But no amount of waffling about will let me know. So if you don’t mind. I’ve been... getting something a little ready.”
“Is this what you’ve been sneaking around to do for the last three days?” Agenda asks.
“Something like that. It’s a bit of a treat I wanted to give you girls so... care to join me?” He offers.
“What have you done?”
“Me and the boys got together a great big feast so that we can all talk The Inevitable at once. It took a bit of doing, but when the boys and I get moving, we really get moving.”
“Are you including Red Squadron and Biran in that?”
“And a lot of cadets too. Markus gave them a proper mission in setting up the area.” He says.
“How is that a mission?”
“It involves deploying a military force to secure and prepare an area for higher ranking officers to approach and remain there for a time.” Miles says before offering his hand. “There’s plenty of space for all our little ones, and for all our allies. Give them all a big impression. How does that sound?”
“Well, if you’ve been planning this for days.”
“I have. All of us have.”
“Then I suppose we HAVE to show up, don’t we?” Agenda says in a luxurious tone. “I’ll get my coat.”
•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•
The hall that Miles leads them to is a massive refurbished hanger that has all kinds of carpets put down, tapestries hanging from the ceiling and tables upon tables of different treats of all sorts already out. The Undaunted Cadets are all rushing around putting down more meals and treats and between the richness of the carpets, the crystal bowls and platters and expensive drinks and foods. But the sort of... scrambled way it’s been put together by the cadets lends it an earnestness that bleeds through. More important though are numerous floating platforms where a child can be safely put down and be right beside their parent.
“Oh this is a treat. I haven’t even been one of you guys for long!” A four part harmony says as Moira walks in with little Liǔ Shù napping in the arms of the four bodies that didn’t speak. The toxic little girl not only has numerous of the protective pendents on her and woven into her clothing, but is in a dark jumper that lets her bright skin stand out as if for presentation.
“Well, as their novels say, all for one, and one for all.” A new voice says as a pair of Cannidors lead in their own family. More and more and more people pour in from all entrances, many in uniform, many of them her own girls. Some of them she barely recognizes. Every single one of them that notices her looking raises a glass, nods, salutes or somehow pays their respects to her.
Her little one squirms ever so and is softly comforted. For a moment there is almost a feeling of vertigo. There was a time where all this wasn’t even a dream of a dream. She could remember the feeling. How could she forget it? The sensation of something gripping your very mind and soul and stopping you from even thinking of disobeying. Then so long trying to get things right, trying to be in control of her own destiny, before finally achieving it and learning just how hard that was. How many sacrifices and concessions she made before what seemed to be one of her final concessions... turned out to be final in the best of ways.
“Alright! We have a connection to The Inevitable! Who wants to say hello to the next batch of humans in the galaxy?” Ryu calls out.
“My Lady?” Miles asks as he smiles up at her. She gives him a raised eyebrow at that.
“My lady is it? Well then, I better live up to it.” She says.
“Connect us!” She commands and there is a cheer through the room before a massive projector uses one of the tapestry covered walls as a screen. “Good Ship Inevitable! Can you hear me?”
“We can, you are on a friendly frequency.” A man of Asian Descent says sitting stiffly in his command chair. “I am Observer Wu, sent from Earth to conclusively determine what is going on outside our corner of the galaxy. Identify yourself please.”
“I am Duchess Agenda Lilpaw! I am the ruler of the Vucsa System an Undaunted World! I greet you, because I have long learned my lesson to stay on the good side of humans!”
“Have you now? If I’m not mistaken that is a fully grown human right next to you. You look like you could take him fairly easily.” Observer Wu says in an amused tone.
She looks down to Miles before shaking her head.
“I made that mistake once. My entire ship was not enough.” She says fondly before pulling him close. “Then I was offered a deal, and he used it to help make me a duchess. So you’ll forgive me if I think humans are a good thing to have around.”
“Did he now? I didn’t realize galactic conquest was the intent of The Dauntless and her crew.” Wu notes.
“Well, as one of the conquered, I would like to say I prefer this result. After all, being able to walk about the city without a bodyguard is a welcome change of pace.” Vuni says drawing attention to herself with a slight bow. “Ambassador Vuni Luxed at your service.”
“So this world prefers to be conquered?” Observer Wu asks.
“This world was a slum at it’s best. A hellscape at worst.” Mari Horny states as the Carib woman waves to the camera. “Mari Horny. I was here to witness it all. I’ve seen slaves freed, monsters hunted down no matter what kind of power or influence they have, be they person or beast. With them I’ve seen the children I worked so hard to protect grow stronger and thrive. Doom has come to this world time after time, and they met it each time. If you’re here to observe, then observe this room! Everyone here saved, aided or inspired by the people you’ve come to evaluate! There are ten pure blooded humans in this room, but beyond it is nearly a billion souls who will vouch for them from the first to last! And so will I!”
“No need to be so dramatic ma’am. I’m an observer, not a judge. I am here to see and hear without bias or illusions. Things are odd, and odd things have happened. The governments and officials back home need to understand clearly and without any doubt. So that is why I am here. There was confusion in the first message sent back. The second furthered the confusion due to multiple parties having separate interests. I have been tested, tried and guaranteed numerous concessions and payments for an utterly neutral perspective.”
“So your word is going to be how all is, then they decide if we committed treachery.” Franklin notes as he floats up with several bundles around him, many of them laughing. “Behold this then. My children. All healthy, with myself as the only human parent. My daughters take after their mothers, my son takes after me, but has his mother’s strength.”
“He is nearly transparent.” Observer Wu notes before Franklin gives the little boy a tickle and he flickers in and out of visibility while laughing. “Most interesting. This Vucsa world of yours, before I do my research upon it, is there something you would like to say about it?”
“This is a world on the edge of Wild Space. Which means that it’s often been used in the past as a place where experiments happened.” Miles says.
“Interesting. Such as?” Observer Wu asks.
“Such as my daughter here. I am Moira Octalliry, I will cut through the details and simply state that my anatomy allowed me to be experimented on a great deal.” She says and Observer Wu looks at her oddly.
“Are you one, or many?”
“I am one, but I am eight as one.” She says. “As is my daughter, I have named her Liǔ Shù. She was a piece of myself remade to produce a weapon. She and I were both rescued. I was forgotten in darkness for thousands of years, as was my daughter. Held in a single moment in time and left to rot.”
“And... is she a weapon?”
“I am told you have creatures similar to her new ability back on your homeworld.”
“We do? What is the name of this creature?”
“The Poison Dart Frog.” She says and Observer Wu’s eyebrows go up.
“Don’t forget about the fact that we fought off that robot witch!”
“Robot Witch?” Wu prompts.
“A weapon of war created by a very large, dangerous and expansive criminal family. A death robot known as Mother Massacre.” Moira says. “So consider that. Without them going... I don’t even know what to call it, I saw the contradicting orders, without them going sane for lack of a better term, I would still be in a slowly failing stasis capsule, buried and forgotten in the darkness.”
“And so, in summation, and from the mouths of those that clearly trust them what is your opinion of The Undaunted and the humans that make it up?”
“When I was brought to this world it was as a slave, my dignity ripped from me, my home destroyed and in less than a day I had my freedom, dignity and a new home.” One of the Erumenta that Agenda cannot recognize out of hand announces.
“And my own. My whole family, those that were enslaved are freed, those that were indoctrinated into that wretched way of life have been allowed time to recover.” Biran says grandly.
“They took me in.” A smaller voice says as Karim rises up. “I’m a Hlo’Shab. Death Born. I could have reasonably only expected to have my core shattered, or shunned for my entire life. Instead I have a home.”
“And... to be Death Born means what?”
“I am a Slohb. By blood I have only one true parent. I was broken off of them far too soon and they died as I survived. Death Born. Or... well, I don’t have blood but... you get the idea right?” Karim asks.
“I understand.” Observer Wu notes. “I have more calls incoming. Is there more from Vucsa for me to see or hear?”
“Over here!” A jubilant voice calls out and the room turns to see Hewhew standing on the shoulders of Heffer to tower over everyone with the Agela’s height added to his own. “Red Five calling it in! The Vucsa Defence Fleets fly fast and proud to keep our home safe!”
The crowd around him, pilots all, throw up their right arms and cheer along with Hewhew. “Welcome to the Galaxy Observer! We’re ten tons of awesome in a two pound bag! Let’s rock!”
Observer Wu smiles as he looks around. “I look forwards to discovering the truth of things.”
“That’s the fun part of the galaxy sir, it’s so absurd we don’t need to lie.” Miles states and Observer Wu turns back to him with a smirk.
“Well, we shall see, won’t we?” He asks. “Is there anything more?”
“I take it you’re not in the mood for a display of flight prowess? We’ve been working on a new routine.” Hewhew calls out.
“Perhaps later. I have numerous calls waiting.” Observer Wu states. “Now if you’ll excuse me...”
~First~ Last Next

I’m Darla , 17 f, and my (then) bf Harry, is 17 m. This all basically started when my cadet group organised a camp for everyone around 4 weeks ago. When we got there all he was doing was snapping at me instead of actually talking to me, and whenever I tried to speak to him he would completely shut me down. What is also something I picked up on is that when his childhood friend, Grace, was talking he wouldn’t shut her up but as soon as I came over and said one singular word he told me to shut up. He then used the excuse of “yeah because the SSI is here, I’m getting a promotion soon” (he never got that promotion) - SSI -> basically our instructor
This continued for 2 days so I just left him to simmer. And soon after the trip was done he messaged me and kept asking why I was ignoring him and I made sure he understood that I tried so hard to speak to him that weekend (not in a harsh or explosive way). And maybe two weekends later we had another trip and this one was even worse, he had said maybe one word to me and when I said hello or how are you at any point in the day he would have the AUDACITY to look me dead in the eyes and walk away. (He again confronted me about it over text and used the same excuse as last time and I did the same thing and he kept saying sorry like he wouldn’t do it again). Ps. He did do it again
Fast forward literally to last Wednesday, 8th May. I got told by my friend a girl asked him out and I thought it wasn’t a big deal since he must’ve said no since he’s with me. Turns out he said to my friend “I had to say no” (emphasis on the ‘had’). Again I was upset about this so I thought I would approach him later on in cadets where I got told that it was actually him that asked her out and told her he loved her. This girl, her name is Amy, met Harry because they were both taking part in a play which he was doing the lighting for and she was one of the cast members, and they gained feelings for each other there.
After cadets had finished he’d seen that I had been crying with my friends and gave me the dirtiest look like i was in the wrong which my mums had clocked when she came to pick me up He then ran away and left me sobbing in my mums arms.
I received a message later that read “I’m braking up with you, my life hard at the minute, gonna stop talking to you and Amy”. And I replied with “No. you have no right to end it like this and I will not let you have the satisfaction of it, you will meet me tomorrow at campus and we will speak”. I waited the next day but of course se he never showed up because he chickened out and couldn’t face his own problems. I spent a few days crying and all my friends keep telling me they are seeing him around with her , outside of campus and it’s not the fact that he’s with her that makes me angry it’s the fact that he said he wouldn’t speak to either of us and yet he’s still speaking to her. And what hurts the most is that he tried to do some horrible things to me and I don’t want her to go through the same thing and it’s sad because I still miss him saying ‘I love you’.
EDIT: i feel he’d been pushing me away for the past weeks and only just realised it might have been so he could use an excuse to break up with me and get with Amy. Also the ‘exploding’ at him happened a few days ago when I basically said everything i wanted to say sadly I don’t remember much because he deleted the chats ,I still don’t understand why he did that, but i basically called him cocky at one point and he replied with “i know I am, i think people like it” when literally everyone hates it. And I do slightly feel bad for some things i had said. Although I have friends that treat me better then he ever did. (We also only dated for 3 months and 9 days)

There it was, on the table in Nicola Coughlan’s apartment — a microscopic undergarment that loomed large in the actor’s mind.
The “Bridgerton” costume department had sent Coughlan home with a piece of intimacy wear that was essentially a strapless thong that would cover the bare essentials of her body during an upcoming love scene.
It would be her first time ever acting in such a scene, in a series known globally for its sexy yet empowering bedroom romps, and it would require her to be almost totally naked in front of people she’d worked with for years. Coughlan was understandably terrified. One night, she poured herself a margarita and summoned the liquid courage to try on the tiny sliver of fabric.
“I went to the bathroom and looked in the full-length mirror. I was like, ‘Absolutely not.’ I hid it down the bottom of the laundry basket,” Coughlan recalled on a cold morning in January at Netflix’s offices in Manhattan. “I was like, ‘How am I going to do this?’”
Coughlan eventually got over her nerves. Much to her surprise, she found the process of filming the scenes with her co-star Luke Newton creatively satisfying — liberating, even. “By the end of the day, we were both lying under a blanket, not clothed, just chillin’. We were like, ‘This is why nudists do it,’” said Coughlan, who speaks in a rapid, melodious accent that only adds to her natural exuberance.
While discussing the arc of her career, she goes on joyful digressions, praising everything from Mrs. Renfro’s salsa to Ryan Gosling’s performance in the forgotten teen series “Breaker High” to “Saturday Night Live,” which she’s just attended for the third time and hopes to host one day (are you listening, Lorne Michaels?).
She is nothing if not enthusiastic, and she brings this level of passion to Season 3 of “Bridgerton,” the first half of which will return to Netflix on Thursday. Until now, her character, Penelope Featherington, has been content to be a wallflower in the ballrooms of Regency London, allowing her to observe and secretly write a society scandal sheet under the pseudonym Lady Whistledown.
But this season will focus on Penelope as she — spoiler alert — consummates her long-simmering crush on Colin Bridgerton (Newton) in a friends-to-lovers storyline with distinct rom-com overtones. Penelope’s move into the center of the narrative also meant that Coughlan faced new pressures as the lead in one of the most watched and dissected shows on Netflix.
“With Penelope this season, it felt like there were so many things that were reflected in real life. The whole theme of her stepping out of the shadows and into the light, and not feeling quite ready — I felt like I had to do that,” said Coughlan.
“It was really challenging. It was terrifying. It was cathartic. It was a million and one things,” she added. “I loved it.”
She juggled “Bridgerton” with an edgy turn in “Big Mood,” a “Fleabag”-esque dark comedy released last month on Tubi. On top of that, she also had a small role in the biggest box office hit of 2023, “Barbie” — she wanted to do more but, alas, her schedule was too packed — and filmed a guest appearance in the “Doctor Who” Christmas special to be released later this year.
It amounts to a long-simmering breakout moment for Coughlan, who is 37 but thanks to a preternaturally dewy complexion often plays characters who are much younger than she is, like a Catholic high school student in the Troubles-themed sitcom “Derry Girls.”
“It was very exciting to play grown women. But I was like, ‘Can I do that?’ Even in drama school, they would always cast me as the random kid, like, there was an Ibsen play called ‘Little Eyolf,’ and I had to play Eyolf. I was like, ‘This is gonna be me forever.’”
Raised in County Galway on the western coast of Ireland, she grew up liking whatever her older siblings were into — whether it was Nirvana or “Wayne’s World.” When her sister starred in the school play, Coughlan showed up in a sequined vest, looking like a little Liza Minnelli — as if she knew she also wanted to be onstage. (She still has a taste for eccentric glamour: Despite the wintry gloom, she’s decked out in a gold spangled dress and a cloud-like ruffled bolero.)
At age 9, she scored her first professional gig, a movie called “My Brother’s War” starring James Brolin. She got the day off from school, but she wanted more. “I used to look at the Olsen twins. I was like, ‘God, look, look at where they are,’” she joked. As a teenager, she did regular voice work in cartoons. Her father, who was in the Irish army (as a teenage cadet, he took part in U.S. President Kennedy’s funeral in 1963), and mother, a stay-at-home parent, were supportive but also baffled by their youngest child’s dramatic streak. “It’s really not in my family at all,” Coughlan said.
After graduating from the National University of Ireland Galway, Coughlan enrolled in a foundational course at the Oxford School of Drama in England, where she quickly bonded with fellow student Camilla Whitehill.
“We were the only people there that really cared about things being funny,” said Whitehill, a playwright who would go on to create “Big Mood” as a vehicle for her old drama school friend. “Everyone else just wanted to do plays where their family had died, or whatever.”
There it was, on the table in Nicola Coughlan’s apartment — a microscopic undergarment that loomed large in the actor’s mind.
The “Bridgerton” costume department had sent Coughlan home with a piece of intimacy wear that was essentially a strapless thong that would cover the bare essentials of her body during an upcoming love scene.
It would be her first time ever acting in such a scene, in a series known globally for its sexy yet empowering bedroom romps, and it would require her to be almost totally naked in front of people she’d worked with for years. Coughlan was understandably terrified. One night, she poured herself a margarita and summoned the liquid courage to try on the tiny sliver of fabric.
“I went to the bathroom and looked in the full-length mirror. I was like, ‘Absolutely not.’ I hid it down the bottom of the laundry basket,” Coughlan recalled on a cold morning in January at Netflix’s offices in Manhattan. “I was like, ‘How am I going to do this?’”
Coughlan eventually got over her nerves. Much to her surprise, she found the process of filming the scenes with her co-star Luke Newton creatively satisfying — liberating, even. “By the end of the day, we were both lying under a blanket, not clothed, just chillin’. We were like, ‘This is why nudists do it,’” said Coughlan, who speaks in a rapid, melodious accent that only adds to her natural exuberance.
While discussing the arc of her career, she goes on joyful digressions, praising everything from Mrs. Renfro’s salsa to Ryan Gosling’s performance in the forgotten teen series “Breaker High” to “Saturday Night Live,” which she’s just attended for the third time and hopes to host one day (are you listening, Lorne Michaels?).
Luke Newton and Nicola Coughlan hold champagne glasses on "Bridgerton."
Colin Bridgerton (Luke Newton) and Penelope Featherington (Nicola Coughlan) go from friends to lovers in Season 3 of “Bridgerton.” (Liam Daniel / Netflix)
She is nothing if not enthusiastic, and she brings this level of passion to Season 3 of “Bridgerton,” the first half of which will return to Netflix on Thursday. Until now, her character, Penelope Featherington, has been content to be a wallflower in the ballrooms of Regency London, allowing her to observe and secretly write a society scandal sheet under the pseudonym Lady Whistledown.
But this season will focus on Penelope as she — spoiler alert — consummates her long-simmering crush on Colin Bridgerton (Newton) in a friends-to-lovers storyline with distinct rom-com overtones. Penelope’s move into the center of the narrative also meant that Coughlan faced new pressures as the lead in one of the most watched and dissected shows on Netflix.
“With Penelope this season, it felt like there were so many things that were reflected in real life. The whole theme of her stepping out of the shadows and into the light, and not feeling quite ready — I felt like I had to do that,” said Coughlan.
“It was really challenging. It was terrifying. It was cathartic. It was a million and one things,” she added. “I loved it.”
She juggled “Bridgerton” with an edgy turn in “Big Mood,” a “Fleabag”-esque dark comedy released last month on Tubi. On top of that, she also had a small role in the biggest box office hit of 2023, “Barbie” — she wanted to do more but, alas, her schedule was too packed — and filmed a guest appearance in the “Doctor Who” Christmas special to be released later this year.
It amounts to a long-simmering breakout moment for Coughlan, who is 37 but thanks to a preternaturally dewy complexion often plays characters who are much younger than she is, like a Catholic high school student in the Troubles-themed sitcom “Derry Girls.”
“It was very exciting to play grown women. But I was like, ‘Can I do that?’ Even in drama school, they would always cast me as the random kid, like, there was an Ibsen play called ‘Little Eyolf,’ and I had to play Eyolf. I was like, ‘This is gonna be me forever.’”
Raised in County Galway on the western coast of Ireland, she grew up liking whatever her older siblings were into — whether it was Nirvana or “Wayne’s World.” When her sister starred in the school play, Coughlan showed up in a sequined vest, looking like a little Liza Minnelli — as if she knew she also wanted to be onstage. (She still has a taste for eccentric glamour: Despite the wintry gloom, she’s decked out in a gold spangled dress and a cloud-like ruffled bolero.)
At age 9, she scored her first professional gig, a movie called “My Brother’s War” starring James Brolin. She got the day off from school, but she wanted more. “I used to look at the Olsen twins. I was like, ‘God, look, look at where they are,’” she joked. As a teenager, she did regular voice work in cartoons. Her father, who was in the Irish army (as a teenage cadet, he took part in U.S. President Kennedy’s funeral in 1963), and mother, a stay-at-home parent, were supportive but also baffled by their youngest child’s dramatic streak. “It’s really not in my family at all,” Coughlan said.
After graduating from the National University of Ireland Galway, Coughlan enrolled in a foundational course at the Oxford School of Drama in England, where she quickly bonded with fellow student Camilla Whitehill.
“We were the only people there that really cared about things being funny,” said Whitehill, a playwright who would go on to create “Big Mood” as a vehicle for her old drama school friend. “Everyone else just wanted to do plays where their family had died, or whatever.”
Nicola Coughlan holds her fingers against her cheek. Yellow orbs float behind her.
Nicola Coughlan on playing Penelope this season: “The whole theme of her stepping out of the shadows and into the light, and not feeling quite ready — I felt like I had to do that.” (Evelyn Freja / For The Times)
Coughlan, ever the pop culture connoisseur, introduced Whitehill to the sitcom “Arrested Development.”
“She’s one of those people who, if she thinks you will like something, she will make you watch it. And she is — annoyingly — usually right,” added Whitehill. (More recently, Coughlan urged her friend to catch up on “The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City.” “It’s such an easy one to sell to people. I’m like, ‘One of them is a cult leader who’s married to her granddad; are you in or are you out?’” Coughlan said.)
They both eventually landed in London, where “neither of us was successful at all for our whole 20s,” said Whitehill, who would often cast Coughlan in “my bad unpaid short plays at pubs,” including one where Coughlan played a cat.
“You leave drama school, which is a lovely, cozy bosom where you get to do the thing you love every day. Then you go, ‘Hang on. Thousands of people leave drama school every year, and they want to do the exact job I do.’ It seems so improbable that you’ll make a living doing it,” said Coughlan. “I felt like a loser at so many points.”
One such nadir came when she was working at a frozen yogurt shop at a mall in West London and the cheap jeans she wore as part of her uniform tore “right up the butt crack.” It was sobering, she said. “I was like, ‘This is not the life I wanted.’”
By the time she was in her late 20s, she’d moved back home and was working for an optician in Galway. Then she saw a listing for an open casting call for a festival of plays being put on by the Old Vic Theatre. Even though she was broke, she flew back to London for the audition and landed a part in a play called “Jess and Joe Forever.”
It marked a turning point for Coughlan, who was soon cast as studious teen Clare Devlin in Channel 4’s “Derry Girls,” a project she was drawn to because of its vividly drawn female characters.
“They were all really distinct — young women who were ballsy and foul-mouthed,” she said. She convinced herself that the show would flop because “people hate women trying to be funny.” Instead, the show was a massive hit in the U.K. and earned a devoted following in the U.S. when it was picked up by Netflix.
Then, Shonda Rhimes came calling about “Bridgerton.” After a single audition, Coughlan was cast as Penelope, a thoughtful, sharp-witted young woman with an overbearing mother and tacky, dim-witted sisters. Season 1 was released in late 2020, when much of the world was staying home because of the COVID-19 pandemic-related closures, and it became a sensation.
Whitehill recalls going out with her friend once restrictions had lifted in the U.K. and sensing how much had shifted. “It’s such a weird, un-put-into-words-able experience to watch someone you know for such a long time become globally famous,” she said. The fact that Coughlan didn’t find success straight out of school “has grounded her significantly, which means that she doesn’t let it go to her head.”
Success has not come without complications, however, like the relentless media scrutiny around Coughlan’s physical appearance. “It’s really hard and feels [like] s—,” she said.
In 2018, she wrote an essay for the Guardian responding to a theater critic who described her character in a London production of “The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie” as “an overweight little girl.” Coughlan is determined to push back against this kind of casual body-shaming because, she said, “I grew up at a time where it was so overt. There was the circle of shame for cellulite [in magazines] — just horrific, horrific messaging.”
It’s also why this season of “Bridgerton,” which celebrates the allure of a character often overlooked as a wallflower, is so meaningful to Coughlan — and why she suspects it will resonate with so many viewers. Rhimes and showrunner Jess Brownell decided Season 3 should deviate from the timeline in Julia Quinn’s novels and focus on Penelope and Colin — a couple known to fans as “Polin.”
“We’ve watched Colin not quite understand that Penelope has a crush on him for two seasons. You can only play that dynamic out for so long before it gets frustrating,” said Brownell.
Stepping into the lead meant Coughlan would need to be on set nearly every day for eight months straight. But if she was overwhelmed at first, she didn’t let on. “She just seemed so game and ready for anything on set,” said Brownell. “If anything, I just noticed how seriously she was taking her preparation.”
Coughlan was insightful and collaborative, said Brownell, sharing an endless stream of ideas about her character in a WhatsApp group chat with Newton and Brownell. She had suggestions for specific music cues and for Penelope’s makeover, which sees her ditching her tight red poodle curls and garish citrus-hued gowns for loose waves and cool blues and greens. Coughlan is also very plugged into the fandom, and she advocated for including a scene, important to novel readers, in which Penelope calls Colin “Mr. Bridgerton.”
As if that weren’t enough, she even found time to bake fresh Irish soda bread and bring it to set.
This season is “a lot lighter and more playful than we’ve been able to be in the past,” Brownell added. The writing leans into Coughlan’s strengths as a comedic performer, particularly her knack for awkward banter, a skill she deploys as Penelope throws herself into the London social season in a bid to find a husband.
Coughlan, who enjoyed being, as she put it, “the weirdo in the background” for the first two seasons of “Bridgerton” and who idolizes women like Tina Fey, Amy Poehler and Kristen Wiig, said it was a thrill “to play Penelope as goofy and terrible with men.”
Like Coughlan, Newton was nervous about filming the love scenes but found the anxiety quickly dissipated after the first take. “We both had a similar outlook — it’s like doing comedy because you’re having to put yourself out there and feel exposed and risk something,” said Newton (who watched “Hamilton” at Coughlan’s recommendation and loved it, just as she predicted.) Because of how these moments focus on consent and emotional intimacy, “It was essential that we were friends,” he said.
The co-stars were especially heartened to hear from a burly security guard named Dave who has worked on “Bridgerton” since Season 1 and was moved by the romance he watched them act out on set.
“He came to Luke and I and said, ‘I don’t normally watch shows like this. Something about this season is very special, and I’m very proud of you,’” Coughlan recalled.
For several weeks, Coughlan was filming “Bridgerton” and “Big Mood” at the same time. She coped with the stress by watching “Vanderpump Rules” from the beginning.
“It’s a testament to how nosy I am that I heard people talking about Scandoval, had no frame of reference and was like, ‘Well, I need to know,’” said Coughlan, now a superfan who recently threw a “Vanderpump”-themed housewarming party and made a beeline to take a selfie with Ariana Madix when she was at “SNL.” It’s not just escapism: She also finds creative inspiration in reality TV personalities, channeling some of Lala Kent’s mannerisms into her character in “Big Mood.” “You forget how f— weird people are, how bizarre they can be,” she said.
In January, Coughlan had not yet seen the new season of “Bridgerton.” But by phone in early May, she said she’d finally watched the episode in which Colin and Penelope sleep together, nervously, by herself in a hotel room. Once again, the anticipation was worse than the thing itself.
“I laughed and cried and I was like, ‘Oh, my God, it’s amazing,’” she said. “They’re not titillating just to be titillating, even though we hope they are sexy. There’s so much about female pleasure and positive sexual experiences, and we don’t get enough of that onscreen.”
Coughlan has reached a bittersweet crossroads on “Bridgerton,” now that her character’s big season has wrapped and she will soon return to being “the weirdo in the background.” But she has no regrets.
“We left it all on the pitch. There’s nothing I wanted to do this season that I didn’t get to do,” she said. “And that’s a rare thing.”
Source: https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/tv/story/2024-05-12/nicola-coughlan-bridgerton-season-3
It seems some people are having trouble accessing it. There's no paywall for me, and I'm in the USA.

[Hopefully a week and a half is enough to let everyone catch up, so I can talk about all the episodes here without spoiling them for anyone]
The third and final edit of this show, and I’m sad to see it end. Like the others, I’ve grouped the season’s episodes by what feel like the most appropriate story arcs, and made two versions of each to accommodate the individual season’s alternate logo – as I like to differentiate, like my work with ‘The Mandalorian’.

There are a few surprises in this season though, I’ve found opportunities to link the three seasons together through flashbacks from archive footage that I’ve created to tether the show together as a whole. Like other flashbacks/flashforwards I’ve put in other projects, I’ve made the anachronism as visually distinct as possible from the rest of the story there, with having zero colour saturation and a vignette filter.
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For clarification: the arcs numbers here are based on, and following on from, the edits of the first 2 seasons I’ve done– 7 from Season 1, and 9 from Season 2 with the arcs themselves and the standalone episodes I added the alternate logo to. Those episodes came with the “[V2]” label of course, as will be the case here too for the same reasons.

The colour of the alternate logo this time around is more off-white – but more like a very light gold colour, since just the off-white was a little too close to the original grey to be actually visually distinct, especially from across the room.
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Arc 17: “A Fresh Start”. Episodes 1 “Confined”, 2 “Paths Unknown” and 3 “Shadows of Tantiss” all grouped together. They were all released together and worked perfectly well together (probably by design), so having them as the first arc was very easy and made a lot of sense.
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The name has a few valid references in the 3 episodes: Omega adjusting to Tantiss, what Project Necromancer could mean if it’s ever successful, Hunter and Wrecker’s search, the Clone Cadets they rescued from the jungle planet Setron – and Crosshair and Omega’s escape & what it could spell for them going forward.
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Finally, in the second episode, when H+W are walking through the jungle with the cadets they’ve found, there’s a small flashback all the way back to the end of Season 1, which I think works well and ties things together in a good way.
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Arc 18: “Cross-Purposes” – episodes 4 “A Different Approach” and 5 “The Return”.
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I slightly changed the chain of events in episode 4 to, I think, improve the story somewhat. A fair bit of episode 4 feels like it’s bulked out by people going out of their way to be self-centred assholes and – I don’t know if it’s just lingering frustration from Season 2 with all the Cid missions that always yielded no results – but can the good guys just win UNconditionally for once??
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Now, after Omega wins the money gambling, Imperial Captain Mann doesn’t fleece them, undoing their progress – he just gets the transmission about the shuttle crash and leaves to investigate immediately. Secondly, when the duo discover Batcher’s been kidnapped, the street urchin now tries to bribe the information out of them, but Crosshair intimidates him and he immediately relents, telling them where the Imperials went. I think ideally, I would cut the kidnapping out if I could because the captain’s just being an annoying sore loser and it bloats and segues the plot when the duo already have a shuttle they can bribe themselves onto. But that doesn’t match the vessel they eventually steal and escape with, and the background doesn’t match the commercial shuttle depot, so I can’t “invent” a firefight there instead and kind of must keep the kidnapping and such for consistency reasons.
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Later, on Barton IV, there are 3 very brief flashbacks to the episode “The Outpost”. This is very much deliberate because this is a site of a major event in Crosshair’s arc in the last season, it makes sense that when he returns there, it would be stuck heavily in his head every second he’s there – hopefully this conveys that effectively.
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It does feel like the first 4 episodes work well as one giant story instead, but that comes to 1 hour 40+, even with the last episode slightly shortened somewhat. This feels very long – especially with the show already having 1 “mega-arc” already with the first 3 episodes of Season 1. So having this duo instead feels like it works better as a more Crosshair-themed story – as with the name: “Cross-purposes”.
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To be specific, “Cross-purposes” is an expression where 2 or more people are at odds and have different goals/methods concerning the same thing. This feels very apt for CROSShair and Omega having to work together after their shuttle crash, and Crosshair with the squad on Barton IV learning to work together again and getting to the bottom of things between Crosshair and The Empire. In the latter episode, there are some flashbacks to the previous season – they’re very short, but hopefully with the way I’ve crafted them, they each have a big impact in making the shot/scene deeper.
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Arc 19 is split into two versions: a four-episode story from episodes 6-9, and two self-contained two-parters, because I find the four episodes actually work very well in both formats. As usual, you download and view whichever you agree with the most and works well with the rest of your collection. Also, just having the former could apply here if you like the latter half, but disagree with the choice to muddy the waters with how the ‘Dark Disciple’ novel left things on the Ventress front, so excising the latter half works better for you.
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The four episode arc: “All That Counts” is all of E6 “Infiltration”, E7 “Extraction”, E8 “Bad Territory” and E9 “The Harbinger” as one long sequence. There’s a brief flashback to Season 2 when ‘M-Count Targets’ are being discussed with Phee from Pabu, and that’s where the connection across all 4 episodes comes from, as it’s a consistent thread through them all.
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The name “All That Counts” is a play on the M-Count aspect of course, but it also as other meanings it can apply to in the four episodes. The Clone Assassin has to silence his own brother for silence’s sake and recover Omega for Hemlock – that’s all that counts, no matter the setback or the injuries. Wolffe has a clear change of heart when he meets Rex again, hears his story, and the reality of his orders sinks in: hunting a child – being loyal to his brothers, doing the right thing, and letting the target go as a show of both is all that counts, no matter the consequences. When Hunter and Wrecker meet Fennec Shand again after Pantora, the past doesn’t matter, only the present and them needing each other’s help does: the mutual benefit, especially for Omega’s sake, is all that counts. Lastly, when Ventress appears on Pabu, there’s a lot of distrust for obvious reasons, but the squad need answers and help and she’s the only one who can give it to them – all that counts is that they trust her and let her do what she needs to do.
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The first two-parter: 19a – “Teths of Patience” is just E6 “Infiltration” and E7 “Extraction” back to back, no flashbacks. The name is another play on words, because in these two episodes we see a few characters going through TESTS of patience of one kind or another at the old ruined B’Omarr Monk Monastery. Mostly the members of Rex’s Clone Underground trusting Crosshair in their presence, and the Clone Assassin trying to complete his objective despite some setbacks and injuries.
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The second two-parter: 19b – “New Allies and New Information” is just E8 “Bad Territory” in Space-Florida, and E9 “The Harbinger” with Ventress back to back, containing a short flashback in the former. The name ties into the first two-part story featuring Fennec back in season 1 “More Enemies and More Opportunities” as a kind of deliberate mirror. The allies (even just situationally) and information are both pretty self-evident with Fennec & Ventress, and everything they need to learn about this ‘M-Count’ phenomenon that’s presented itself.
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For the remaining episodes of the season: numbers 10-15 essentially create one long unbroken chain of events where each episode leads very comfortably right into the next. But this obviously creates one giant story that has a very dragging runtime of at least 2h40m, which is a huge story for a series which was made for TV and not film, and was designed to fit into ~22 minute chunks from the start.

To this end, I broke things up into smaller stories – à la The ‘Liberation of Lothal’ in my “Rebels” edit – to make the home stretch of the season, and show, much more easily digestible.
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Arc 20 begins with E10 “Identity Crisis” and goes right into E11 “Point of No Return”, and continues with E12 “Juggernaut”, before finishing with E13 “Into the Breach”.
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Conveniently, I’ve found the episode title ‘Into The Breach’ actually works very well for the entire arc for one reason or another. First, we see the moral ground Emerie finds herself on with the subjects that arrive at Tantiss, and the fact that they’re just children. Secondly, there’s the TK’s mobilising and disembarking on Pabu and the subsequent fighting and recapture of Omega after that small battle. Third, there’s a stealth-op with The Squad and Phee going to a secure Imperial world to recover a former Imperial asset, with very few options left on either side at that point. Finally, there’s going to Coruscant at the heart of The Empire to get Wayland’s co-ordinates.
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As stated above, episode 10 onwards is just 1 giant chain that runs unbroken, so having a self-contained Tantiss trilogy right at the end to keep everything very grounded and straightforward was good, and these 4 episodes before fill the gap well by proxy, so it all works out well.
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Arc 21: “Ground Zero”. The last of the show, consisting of E14 “Flash Strike” and the double-length E15 “The Cavalry Has Arrived”. It’s named as such because it’s the last trilogy’s worth of episodes self-contained to Tantiss itself and the last mission, which I think is a very fitting name.
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There’s only 1 version of this arc, since the all-grey logo from the finale, to reflect the paint-blasted armour they adorn themselves with from E13 onwards, looked great and felt greatly relevant to include. Including this for the final arc felt like a no-brainer.
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This arc does include the epilogue attached to the end this time. This is because it doesn’t contradict anything that chronologically comes afterwards in animation terms, as far as I know at least. The Rebellion pretty much began as soon as Saw Gerrera disagreed with The Empire on the very day of its founding, which we saw in the very first episode of TBB, which obviously precedes Rebels and Andor by a way, so there’s plenty of wiggle room for where the epilogue can fit in the timeline with everything else.
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Footnote: I’m merely a self-taught or VFX artist here, so some areas are visibly *mostly* good as I have to be realistic with the footage in front of me and what I can do with it. If you do have any particular notes and feedback, feel free to give me your thoughts, but please be constructive and don't be an ass about it.

I’ve decided to pick up the recoilless rifle again after a long while of not using it (the last time i used it i was a cadet) and I have to say I really enjoyed it, equally as much as the EAT-17’s.
The reload isn’t as bad as people on this sub make it out to be, its only about 5 seconds of standing still and its staged. When you’re being swarmed by bugs then ofc this might pose some trouble but you can definitely make it work by clearing some enemies around you with your primary then reloading while the charger turns around.
On bots though this thing is even better because the general gameplay of automaton planets is to take cover and it just so happens that provides the perfect opportunity for you to reload.
It also fires instantly upon drawing unlike the EAT-17’s unfold animation and the Quasar’s wind up. The Quasar wind up is ironic when you bring up the stationary reload of the Recoilless because you need to stay still to fire your shot with the quasar if you don’t want weapon sway to be all over and miss the weakspot.
On top of all that, small unpopular opinion, I think having a backpack dedicated to holding ammo for your gun is cool asf. Sure you lose out on utility but you get style points and who doesn’t love style points! Also I’m a sucker for ballistic type weapons so I might be a little biased here lol, I love to feel the kick of what I’m firing and big explosions.

 Per the Super7 status page wave 10 should ship next month, wave 7 should ship in august, & wave 11 in November. With Brian Flynn stating that they like to have 3 waves out (no more than) for order at a time, after each one of those we should be getting a new wave for preorder. What would be your picks to fill out waves 12-14? I think 1) General Tragg will show up as he’s the last of those initial waves who hasn’t gotten a figure. Also, 2) Undercover Donatello is the only one of the first wave of variants who hasn’t gotten a figure. There was the BBTS exclusive Undercover Raph, but he didn’t include the same accessories UCD did… So those two seem obvious to me. Also, really annoyed that wave 11 has only one new character in Rat King. 2 more variations in turtles & a redeco of the foot soldier. Oh well. As for who I most want to see, 3) Scale Tail. He was such a unique looking character by having the snake lower half & just looked so badass. 4) Napoleon Bonafrog has such a cool look, he’s had a reaction figure, & we’ve gotten Genghis Frog so he seems like an easy choice 5) Pizza Face. Another unique character who’s look amazing with today’s sculpting. We’ve all seen the prototype head w/mini face under the chef’s hat that would make for a great alternate head. 6) Wyrm another character who’s unique & gross & would be so cool to see in 7” format with added detail & sculpting. 7) Android Krang. This would be big even by Ultimates standards & would cost more, but would be really cool. Those are my top choices. With those I’d genuinely have everyone I wanted from the line. Any of the following would be cool additions as well; 8) Walkabout, 9) Fugitoid 10) Hot Head, 11) Hot Spot, 12) Halfcourt, 13) Panda Khan Who do you guys wanna see? 

Wave 1: Raphael, Splinter, Foot Soldier, Baxter Stockman Wave 2: Leonardo, Bebop, Shredder, Mutagen Man Wave 3: Michelangelo, April O'Neil, Metalhead, Rocksteady Wave 4: Donatello, Casey Jones, Muckman & Joe Eyeball, Mondo Gecko Wave 5: Krang, Leatherhead, Ray Fillet, Sewer Samurai Leonardo Wave 6: Ace Duck, Scratch, Slash, Mouser, Sewer Surfer Mike Wave 7: Punker Don, Triceraton, Rebotic Bebop, Guerrilla Gorilla, Warrior Metalhead Michelangelo Wave 8: Genghis Frog, Raph The Space Cadet, 1987 Cartoon Armor Shredder, Robot Rocksteady Wave 9: Slam Dunkin' Don, Scumbug, Flocked Splinter, Zak, Wingnut & Screwloose Wave 10: Rocker Leo, Ninja April, Mirage Casey Jones, Karai Wave 11: Rapper Mike, Rat King, Ninja Nomad Leo, & Foot Soldier (Battle Damaged)

Chapter 117
Four green-scaled Skeeths pulled our carriage through the market. We weren’t cramped in the back of a shabby cart but comfortably accommodated in the padded seats of a luxurious carriage with bronze guardrails and an upholstered interior. In our blue uniforms, we looked like nobility.
The start of the tournament had taken the city by surprise, and hundreds of people slowly walked to the Great Hall. Prince Adrien went all in with the event. Hundreds of flags hung over the market streets, and town criers announced the dozens of teams that would participate. I wondered where the tournament would take place. Farcrest didn’t have an arena, and the grounds of the Great Hall weren’t big enough to house such an event, even with all the wooden stands magical woodworkers could raise.
The people on the street quickly moved to the side as the coach approached. Despite the muzzles and straps, Skeeths were naturally aggressive, and their long claws could rip open the sturdiest monsters. The royal army used them in areas where horses would be easy prey.
The Skeeths hissed at each other but continued moving in a straight line. Elincia laughed as she watched the beasts and squeezed my arm. The passersby looked at us, trying to guess what noble house we represented in the tournament. I wondered how many knew we were from the poor orphanage in the Northern district. They looked at us with reverence. Little did they know we were nothing but a wild gamble by the crown prince.
“Four Skeeths, no less,” Elincia giggled under her veil. “People will think we are part of the royal family.”
Firana waved at the crowd. I made [Awareness] take a ‘screenshot’ of her smile; there were no traces of the old, distrustful Firana I had met when I started working at the orphanage. Firana encouraged the crowd. Getting the Wind Fencer class had boosted her self-esteem to perilous heights, but I decided to save the humbling lectures for later.
In the opposite seat, the story was completely different. Zaon leaned forward, shielding his head between his legs, his skin almost as green as Wolf's. I left my spot and sat next to him.
“Remember what Captain Kiln said?” I asked, putting my arm around Zaon’s shoulders. He raised his head.
“Eh… that she will go to the orphanage for a celebratory drink?” Zaon asked.
Izabeka had said that, but that wasn’t what I wanted Zaon to remember.
“Captain Kiln said that a Lv.2 in Longsword Mastery is way above average for a classless person,” I said. “Most of the opponents you will face didn’t touch a sword until after they got their classes. Even if they have Classes and levels above you, the time they have been training is the same as ours. They train for power; we train for skill.”
Zaon nodded.
“I know,” he muttered.
“Nervous is good, Zaon. Accept the feeling; don’t fight it,” I said reassuringly.
Zaon took a deep breath. “Nervous is good. Nervous is good. Nervous is good,” he repeated like a mantra.
“You have fought real foes before, Zaon. Your opponents today are kids just like you.” I said. “Just remember the secret technique, and you’ll be good.”
Firana seemed to hear our hushed conversation because she promptly pounced over my shoulder.
“What secret technique?” She asked.
“It’s a boy thing. You wouldn’t get it,” Zaon replied with a mocking half-smile.
Firana climbed over me and dove on Zaon, trying to immobilize him. The elven boy fought back, his skin turning a healthier hue as he struggled against Firana. I returned to Elincia’s side, giving them space to brawl in peace.
“Shouldn’t you stop them?” Ilya asked, her feet hanging a couple centimeters over the carriage’s floor.
“They are warming up for the tournament,” I replied. “In the meantime, you can brawl with Wolf.”
Ilya raised an eyebrow.
“I’d rather not,” she replied with a sulking expression. “I don’t understand why Wolf hasn’t gotten his class yet. We are handicapping ourselves without a good reason.”
Wolf opened an eye, interrupting his meditation.
“I can win without a Class. In fact, I could probably squash a Lv.2 gnome with an arm tied behind my back,” he replied.
“Want to try, Big Snot?” Ilya replied, channeling mana to her hands.
I laughed. It was good to see everyone in such a good mood. After months of hard work, we had the opportunity to show everyone the real capabilities of a bunch of orphans. Mister Lowell might not have been happy with the circumstances; he was a pacifist, after all, but his dream of seeing the line between nobility and commoners erased was a step closer.
I stretched my back and looked at the crowd.
“Come on, kids! We are representing Farcrest in this tournament. Act accordingly,” I said as we crossed the main gate.
The inner gates were crowded, and the guardsmen had to open a path for the carriage to enter. It seemed the tournament was going to be in the Great Hall. A double line of soldiers guarded the Great Hall entrance, funneling the spectators around the main building and into the gardens. I expected the most influential citizens of Farcrest to be there, but I underestimated the number of people invited.
The carriage reached the stairs and stopped. The Skeeth hissed at the soldiers in full armor. The coachman fastened the reins and opened the small door for us. Then, with all the deference in the world, he helped us climb down. Firana enjoyed the regal treatment.
Once we descended from the carriage, I offered Elincia my arm, and we climbed the stairs. The spectators looked at us from the sidelines, probably assuming we were guests from far away. Ilya got some quizzical looks. Gnomes were already rare in this part of the kingdom, and she seemed out of place between Firana and Wolf. The soldiers let us through, and we entered the Great Hall. Just beyond the doorway, Captain Kiln was waiting for us.
“Any suspicious activity around the orphanage?” She whispered as soon as we met.
I shook my head. Since the attack, things had been calm.
Captain Kiln turned around, and we walked into the Great Hall. The vestibule seemed empty without the dozens of courtiers whispering in the corners. I guessed they might already be in the tournament.
“Any leads regarding our troubles at the feast?” I asked. The poisoning attempt against Captain Kiln had flown under the radar, and no further clues had been found.
“Vedras agreed to help us test the poison used on Raudhan, but the shards of the glass disappeared. They were locked inside a secure room,” Captain Kiln replied, leaning towards me and whispering. “Whoever is trying to mess with us is either a ghost or a high-level assassin with the skill of traversing closed doors.”
A ghost with ties to organized crime.
“What are you talking about?” Firana interrupted our conversation.
“We are talking about the tournament brackets,” Captain Kiln said, patting my back. It seems someone wants your head really bad, boy. Rumor has it that the Osgiarian dogs are on the hunt for a certain Scholar.”
“Aren’t the matches randomly chosen?” Elincia asked.
Captain Kiln gave us one of her usual disappointed glances.
“Do you really think the noble houses would leave the matches to luck?” She said, “Osgirians got the memo. They know you are part of the royal faction and think you are the weakest link.”
“Are we facing the Osgirian team in the first round?” I asked.
“No, one of his lackeys,” Captain Kiln replied, guiding us through a long corridor I had never been before.
I let out a massive sigh of relief. As much as I trusted my process and the kids' skills, fighting in front of an audience was completely different from sparring in the backyard of the manor with the younger orphans running around. A small foe was perfect to test the waters. It was also an excellent opportunity to show Prince Adrien we were a valuable asset to his cause.
“Are you even allowed to tell me this?” I asked.
Captain Kiln sighed. “No. Anyway, you are fighting against Lord Nara, a wealthy merchant who bought his way into nobility. A noble of the robe, not the sword, if you may. That’s all I know; I have been too busy to do a background check of his team.”
Elincia put her hand on Captain Kiln’s shoulder. “If you are tired, you can always crash at the orphanage for the weekend. Despite the rabble currently crashing at the orphanage, there are plenty of free rooms.”
“Thanks, Elincia, but I need to stay by Tauron’s side,” Captain Kiln replied as she opened a lateral door. “We are here.”
The door led us to the inner gardens. Hundreds of spectators waited on the sidelines, sitting in stone benches around fountains or walking among the flowerbeds and low vegetal mazes. Other than the small gravel path between the Great Hall and the gardens, there wasn’t a place to properly call the arena.
“A thousand more are heading to the Great Hall right now,” I mentioned.
Captain Kiln shrugged it off and guided us into a red and black pavilion attached to the Great Hall’s exterior wall. More than twenty teams were already inside, waiting for the start of the tournament. I examined the room. Near the entrance, Lord Gairon and a group of six tall young boys and girls dressed in blue and gold watched the crowd. By his side, House Herran’s team played a board game with dice and tokens. They wore green uniforms with a gray hammer printed on their chests. In the corner of the room, Lord Osgiria instructed his team with a severe expression. They wore black uniforms with a white tower embroidered on the shoulder.
I recognized the House Vedras team, dressed in green and violet, and the House Jorn team, dressed in silver with the crest of the red falcon catching a fish. For an instant, I thought the Jorn team was composed solely of elves, but a quick glance at their ears told me they were just tall, pale, and blonde, almost Nordic-looking. I recognized Duke Jorn standing silently in the corner, accompanied by Lyra Jorn.
A wave of murmurs rose as we entered the pavilion. I could feel their eyes following us, trying to place us among the sea of nobility. The feast guests already knew who we were, but the ones who arrived afterward could only guess. The great ducal houses ignored us. However, Lord Osgiria gave us a hostile glance before focusing on his team.
We walked to the corner of the tent, where a small pennant with a white rose over a blue field signaled our place. I looked around. There were still several empty spaces inside the pavilion.
“See? They are kids like you,” I said, patting Zaon’s back.
“The members of the House Herran team look strong, though,” Firana pointed out.
Captain Kiln joked, “They are thrown into a mine as soon as they can walk.”
“People who live between a mountain range and the Farlands are bound to be strong,” Lyra Jorn said out of nowhere. Good afternoon, Master Clarke. I received your message. I’m sorry for my late arrival, but I had matters to attend to.”
The girl caught me by surprise; she was just as stealthy as her father. I remember being unable to detect him approaching even with [Awareness] working at full steam. I wondered if that was a trait of the Jorn family.
“Good afternoon, Lyra. Don’t worry about it; we are always ready to receive you,” I replied.
Lyra let out a sigh of relief.
“What a relief! I am so excited to study under your guidance. I have even dreamt about you… I mean about the things you have to teach and the machines from your land,” Lyra quickly corrected herself as she felt Elincia’s green eyes.
“That’s good to hear, but…” I said. “What kept you so busy?”
Or rather, what prevented you from being at the orphanage during the assassin’s attack?
“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Lady Jorn said. “Preceptor Holst asked my help to reorganize the Farcrest library.”
I froze for a moment. There were two possibilities: Holst delayed Lyra’s departure to create a free window of time for the assassins to attack, or he did it because he knew of the attack and wanted to keep Lyra safe. The second option wasn’t very compelling, but Holst had implied his attack on the orphanage was a one-time thing due to a favor he owed.
“You are welcome as soon as you are available,” I said, my jaw suddenly stiff.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you, I will do my best. I promise. I have even convinced my father this is a good idea. The Jorn Duchy is far from commercial centers. We would benefit greatly from any development in transport technologies,” Lyra Jorn said, but I wasn’t listening anymore.
Holst might be the only link between us and the culprit behind the attacks.
“Is there any way of going around a Silence Hex?” I asked.
“Is this a test?” Lady Jorn said, embarrassed. “Oh! House Jorn is more than willing to pay for your inventions. We wouldn’t dream of enriching ourselves at the expense of other people’s work.”
“We are not going to put a Silence Hex on you, Lyra,” Elincia sighed. “Rob is probably thinking about something else. He does this all the time. It might feel like he’s talking to you, but he is actually thinking about two or three different things.”
Lyra let out an awkward laugh, “I understand. People say that about me sometimes.”
“What’s this about a Silence Hex, then? That’s not an amateur spell,” Captain Kiln asked.
“You should check Holst’s tongue,” I said.
Captain Kiln grinned. “I know Darius can be harsh. At times, I want to cast a Silence Hex on him…”
Then, the realization hit her, but before she could reply, the sound of a horn filled the pavilion.
Outside, a small army of men and women dressed in green and beige robes and headbands with antlers fixed to the sides entered the garden. They lined up in the gravel path and raised their hands over their heads. For a moment, I thought they would perform a musical number. Instead, a sudden mana discharge made the ground tremble. An area spell? Out of nowhere, the trees and bushes uprooted themselves and walked through the crowd to the outskirts, leaving a vast empty area in the middle of the Great Hall grounds.
The performance didn’t stop there. A second group dressed in terracotta-colored robes appeared from around the corner. With a movement of their arms, stands made of sandstone emerged from the ground and raised several meters over the ground. A myriad of different enchanted banners and flags flew from the Great Hall’s windows, perching in the newly created masts. I couldn’t help but laugh, amazed by the scene. Where there was a well-kept garden, now was a dueling arena with stands for thousands of spectators. There was even a roofed area for the VIPs.
The spectators started to flood the stands. Prince Adrien waved at the crowd from the royal booth, accompanied by an attractive woman in a luxurious purple dress. The whole city was there: members from the Alchemists Guild, the Sentinels, high-ranking officers of the Guard, nobles from all around the kingdom, and wealthy merchants. On the plain stands, several thousand commoners were gathering together.
A small man dressed in a ceremonial robe stood in the middle of the arena. For a moment, I thought his voice would get drowned by the crowd, but, to my surprise, it came out amplified with a spell. After a quick introduction to the event, he presented the teams.
The Marquis was the first to enter the arena, followed by Istvan Kiln and the rest of his team. Shortly after, Captain Kiln, with a team of young Guard cadets, joined him. The audience went wild, cheering for the city teams.
“Are you ready, team?” I asked, turning around.
Zaon smiled, Ilya gave me the thumbs up, Wolf nodded, and Firana raised her fist in defiance.
“And the third team and last team representing Farcrest,” the master of ceremonies stuttered as he examined the fixture. “Lowell’s Orphanage.”
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I live in NYC so this is something I pay a lot of attention to, but I notice way too many Asian men (and Asians in general) that walk around like space cadets, looking naive and like there’s nothing going on in behind their eyes. Like it or not, especially in walkable cities like NYC, there are much microaggressions that take place on the sidewalk. Too many people look at Asian dudes as meek and will expect Asian men to move aside for them. Stop yielding to assholes—stop moving aside for people and apologizing for taking up space on the sidewalk because you rightfully belong there.
Of course, there’s a fine balance to this, so don’t be an asshole and shoulder check everyone and yield/apologize when you are in the wrong. Be considerate of those around your surroundings, but be ready to stand your ground and defend yourself when you are wronged.
Being spatially aware says a lot about you and always being aware of your surroundings is a masculine trait. On top of that, you look like a target and a victim—that’s why a lot of Asians get attacked because we look like big, fat, easy targets. Fix your posture, move with purpose, stop mouthbreathing, and set your gaze towards a place. I’ve noticed myself when I let my guard down and walk around like I’m in a daze, more people fuck with me, but when I’m alert and spatially aware, I rarely do.

Jerry
"Ah look at you! My sweet little warlady!"
Jaruna hoists Hippolyta out of her crib in her quarters and rocks her lovingly in her arms, her eyes bright and shining as she gently dances around her room in a way that Jerry suspected that no one who didn't know the intimate face of a Cannidor would ever believe was possible. Jaruna was certainly more graceful than anyone would expect from a ten foot Amazon who could only be described as 'a beast of a woman'.
Of course that was just bias and not understanding Cannidor. They were large, and generally in charge. In your face was a common description used by humans. Aggressive and scary was more common among galactic citizens, and even within their family units they didn't reveal their private faces to any but their most intimate friends.
Yet, that didn't make them love their children less. Didn't make silly little games with an infant happen any less. Or goofy baby talk. Or just having moments where parental joy wanted to rip out of your chest like a sun rising in the sky. Cannidor were still people, and Cannidor mothers were still, on the whole, loving moms.
Of course, the Cannidor were societally proponents of 'tough love', but tough love was for your daughters as they aged and set the course for their lives. Tough love was for helping a child grow into a man or a woman. Children however, should be allowed to be children. Even Cannidor children.
Admittedly, bladed weapons were considered excellent gifts for young Cannidor children, but considering their fur protected them from a lot of damage, it was a bit less scary than handing a sword to a human child and letting them go nuts.
Besides... Considering all the blades in their own mouths, their incredible strength, a standard sword with no frills or a first ax... was a training tool as far as the Cannidor were concerned.
Hippolyta on the other hand was quite a few years from even that age, leaving Jerry to simply lay back on Jaruna's bed and watch his wife play with their daughter with a big smile on his face. Hippolyta had taken her sweet time coming, but his fourth Cannidor daughter was very much a welcome addition to the family.
The little 'pup' had the same shock of bright red hair as her mother and a downy coat of white fur that would eventually transition to the far less plush fur of a growing young Cannidor, and finally into the hardy coat of an adult. Unique for a Cannidor, Hippolyta had gray eyes. Her father's eyes.
It was little bits of cross over like that that really let Jerry enjoy the wonder in the galaxy. There was an alien race in a video game series some of his Marines had loved back on Earth that could mate with any species, but their reproductive method wasn't the messy way. They basically linked their nervous system with their partner and used their genes to 'shuffle the deck' for their child... but in a sense it wasn't a direct merging of the two parents.
Nurture of course would change that, but Jerry preferred the real world's direct hybridization all the same. Not that he needed to see himself literally in one of his children to love them, he had six adopted daughters after all, but something about catching his eye color or a feature from him in one of his children always made him smile.
"You smile any bigger than that and people will start asking if you're half Cannidor." Jaruna rumbles, giving Jerry a sly grin. "Actually, check that. They already do. Favorite fan theory on the forums if our first date comes up. There's at least a few people out there that are convinced you're a Tret with a Cannidor mother."
"Well they're gonna have a hell of a shock when word starts getting around about humans in Cannidor space."
"True that. Hell maybe we should do a signing or something. Bet the company that made the Cannidor special edition tri vid release would love it."
"Let's not. We have enough on our plate without doing private PR events. I'm not sure what this Cannidor khan we're meeting tomorrow's plan is, but I'm anticipating we're gonna have a lot of hoops to jump through."
"Mhmm."
Jaruna settles on the bed, letting Hippolyta down to eagerly crawl over to her Papa where she immediately snuggles up with a bit of a purring growl.
"Big old cuddle bug, just like her Mama." Jerry says, stroking his daughter's back. She was a big damn baby by Human standards, and she'd been growing like a weed since Jaruna had popped her out. She was just shy of sixty pounds and she'd been over thirty at birth!
"Big eater like her Mama too."
"Gotta be. A healthy mature Cannidor can top out at well over six or seven hundred pounds at maturity, ain't putting a build like this on without doing some serious growing. I imagine she'll not be too different from those dire wolf pups you and Blondie have."
"Heh. Great, I fathered a tiger cub."
Jaruna arches an eyebrow. "Damn right you did, and you're gonna father a whole bunch of her siblings on me before we're done. Still... five Cannidor daughters already. Five and a half if we want to count Lursa, gods know she's around often enough... and only one Cannidor wife. You're just the biggest stud of a bull around aintcha?"
Jaruna barks with laughter, prompting Hippolyta to try and mimic her mother, before the sweet, if large, infant yawns, displaying her gums to her parents before Jaruna picks her up and tucks her comfortably into her crib.
"Someone's ready for bed I see." Jerry notes.
"Her n'me both." Jaruna snorts, before activating the crib's privacy field. No noise in, save for some pre-selected white noise to help Hippolyta settle down, but if she fusses or cries or something goes wrong Jerry and Jaruna will be able to hear it, or for something medically related they'll get an alert. It was a slightly paranoid level of sensors for an infant's crib to most galactic citizens, but no one could accuse Jaruna of not being a slightly overprotective first time mother.
The big warrior woman pads over to her bed and flops down next to her husband.
"Can't say she ain't runnin me ragged though! Between her and combat, combat's way easier. Don't have to mind my strength for one. Good thing she sleeps a whole bunch though, or I'd get no peace at all... never mind 'personal' time."
Jerry immediately picks up on what Jaruna's hinting at there... and reaches out to caress her neck, signaling he's happy to fool around if she is... but, he does have something he feels like he needs to address first.
"Hey... before we start on anything, do you think adopting Makula's going to cause us any trouble in Cannidor space? We haven't heard much about her background."
"Mhmm... Well. From what the kid's said to me, she's the daughter of an exile. Her mother was a warrior. A true Cannidor warrior, not just some punk or an ordinary merc... and she did something truly stupid, and got tossed out on her ass and was made clanless at the same time. So whatever she did, and Makula didn't seem to know, she fucked up bad. I imagine that's why she was so hard on Makula. Trying to raise her to not fuck up like she did. It's not unheard of for kids of those types of people being taken back into their parent clan, not wanting to put the sins of the mother on the child or anything."
"Fair enough I guess, is it really that different for clanless Cannidor?"
Jaruna shrugs. "Kinda? I mean I was clanless for a bit there, still am in a way. Clans are more complicated than what you Humies like to call galactic marriages. Clans are organizations of families. Guess you could call the families sub clans. Family names are patrilineal... one of the ways we keep an eye on who's related to who right? Clan names on the other hand... well. Only the Khan and her blade sisters carry the full clan name. Next up, anyone can join a clan. Cannidor without surnames are born into clans all the time, just means their mothers gave up on finding a husband and hit a fertility clinic. As to what being clanless means... things have changed. It used to basically be a death sentence on our home world. Now... I'd say most Cannidor are clanless in the old sense. Society's been changing. Being born into one of the crafting clans doesn't really mean much when you can go get a job for Cannid Solutions or something and skip the old school apprenticeship process."
"Makes sense I suppose, it is a very old school way to do things. So what's it mean modernly?"
"Well for the warrior clans they basically form a Khan's military. She'll have however many clans pledged to her banner, with subordinate khans beneath her ruling fiefs, usually worlds, in her name, if she's got a big enough domain under her banner. Becoming a real deal, true blue Cannidor warrior's a big deal. Each clan will open a handful of slots a year, call it two hundred. At least a thousand girls will show up for every slot. Girls born in the clan get a leg up of course, but plenty don't make it the first time if they even choose to attempt. My older sister only made the cut on her second go! The training only gets more brutal after that, including learning how to be an armor tech to manage your power armor."
"So if being part of a clan and meeting their standards is part of what makes a Cannidor warrior, what's that mean for merc groups like the Crimsonhewers and Blue Blades?"
"Ah they're a bit different. They've been around for a long time, and their standards are well regarded even if their recruiting practices cast a wider net than the clans. The Golden Khan gave them official status a few thousand years ago, so they're the clanless clans, or 'free clans'. They do cast that wider net, but all the clans have programs to ensure they capture as much talent as they can. Girls with a gift who aren't quite there for the tests yet can be taken into what amounts to a cadet program for example. Girls with a sharp mind and good spirit might be offered technical jobs within the clan, or introduced to the warrior clan's supporting craft clan. Those are to tradeswomen what warrior clans are to warriors. Produce some of the finest kit money can't buy. You gotta be a friend of the clan."
"Makes sense. I assume they have their own crazy selection process."
"Yep, they sniff around for talent all sorts of ways though, and they poach girls for their apprenticeship programs wherever they can, competing with Canis Solutions and other corps... gets bloody sometimes too."
"Over recruits?"
"Yep. We're not unlike the Apuk in that regard. Only a small part of the population are warriors, but we're fighters as a people, and a quick brawl's as good a way as any to hash things out when someone's got a problem with someone else. I mean really most people will resist if you tread on them or ignore their rules or conventions, so in one sense we're not unlike most of the galaxy really, except it's far more direct and to the point and generally involves a fist fight and a little blood on the floor instead of making a formal protest in writing or whatever. Make a Cannidor feel like you're steppin on her tail and don't be surprised if you get a face full of teeth. Something to keep in mind, and some Cannidor are more sensitive to that sort of thing than others, though as both a man, and a 'small, cute thing', you'll have a lot more social leeway with a lot of the girls who haven't figured humans out yet. That said, I imagine we'll be meeting all sorts of interesting people in the next few weeks."
"Yeah whatever the diplomats have in store for us, I can guarantee that."
Jaruna rolls over and up onto her shoulder, her voice dropping to a low, throaty rumble. "Hey. I'm all recovered. I was serious about that earlier... wanna. Y'know?"
"...Yeah. Actually."
"Mhmm. Come give Mama some sugar."
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