I told you just a little earlier, didn't I? It was a miracle.

Samium of Ur-Ysar. Ran and I had been looking for him, or at least an Egomancer of equivalent expertise, for years. Even before having received that letter from Autonoe - an old friend of my grandfather I'd sought out years ago, in the summer before I moved to Mekhi following my preliminary arcane studies in Oreskios - we'd suspected that he might have been with the Order on account of rumors of his declining health, but had no idea how to approach them about the issue without revealing too much of our motives. I had personal connections to their organization, but that wasn't enough. There wasn't a chance they'd let an outsider into their sanctuary, let alone without an explanation, and let alone to speak with a VIP patient.

So you can imagine my face when not only did I hear about the academy having arranged the visit, but that letter came confirming those exact suspicions. It felt like the first piece of good luck I'd experienced in a dog's age.

In a way, it was almost an anti-climax. All I had to do was sit back until we got there, then find some pretext to ask about him once I'd had a chance to look around and assess the situation. Chances were, if we were already in the building and had a plausible explanation for why we knew he was too, they'd at least be willing to pass a request for a meeting on. Hell, maybe he'd still be ambulatory enough to just speak to directly.

Maybe it was a misassumption, but... I was confident that if Samium heard my name, he'd be willing.

But of course, there was the possibility that he was already dead. If that came to pass, I wasn't sure I could bear it. To come so close, only for the chance to slip between my fingers. But even worse than that was the possibility we wouldn't be able to help. That from his position of knowledge, he'd deny that 'help' was even possible, killing even the concept of my goal.

The fear of that outcome clung to me even more closely than the fear of success. It had been the first thing I'd thought of when I'd dragged myself out of bed to make it on time for the stupid press conference. And as I left Professor Nindar's office, it occupied my thoughts all the more.

Yet on the other side of that fear was hope. A hope that burned as brightly as the sun, fueling the determination in my heart like coal in a furnace.

The possibility of salvation.

Yes. This would go well.

It had to go well. There was no alternative.

𒊹

Old Yru Upper Plaza, Aetherbridge Approach | 2:03 PM | First Day

There was a reprieve in the rain, though it didn't make much difference to me, as the area was sheltered. I was seated on a bench, eyes glazing over at the view. My braids, veil, and the fabric of my stola wafted back and forth in the wind.

For whatever reason, the conclave had instructed the class to split into two groups and travel separately, presumably because it would make our party less conspicuous and likely to be identified. Peculiarly, someone in the planning process had made the conservative decision to conduct the split based on gender, which had felt kind of silly to me, since it had ended up making our group the notably bigger of the two.

We numbered five so far, all lingering around the communal park that we'd designated our meeting point. Myself, Ran - who had only arrived 10 minutes later than me in the end - Kam, Ptolema, and finally Ophelia, who I'll come back to in a minute. All of us had luggage with us of varying size. I was in the middle ground, with a shoulderbag and a medium-sized trunk, while the others spanned the range from Ptolema, who appeared to have only brought a half-filled rucksack, to Kam, who looked like she was moving house. A small floating platform with its own eris chamber followed her with about six or seven suitcases, bags, and trunks. For a weekend, it was obscene.

Some of the others were chatting amongst themselves, while I was trying to enjoy this last moment of calm. I wasn't much of a fan of group travel; it felt like an assault on the senses.

Between the hills, the cliffs, and the outright mountains at the rear, Old Yru was a bad city to live in if you had a distaste for heights. In the old districts, far from the sea, it was all too easy to take a wrong turn and suddenly find yourself facing a steep slope of several hundred meters, or worse, a sheer drop. In some neighborhoods, you couldn't even look out your window without being face-to-face with a fall that could easily smash your head into a dozen colorful pieces. On the other hand, if you didn't mind heights, it was beautiful.

Fortunately, I fell into the latter group. Mostly.

The Academy of Medicine and Healing had some tremendous vistas itself, but compared to this, it was small potatoes. We were at the highest point in the entire city now, to the degree that the air felt different; thinner, more raw. Beyond the fenced ridge a few feet in front of me, I could see everything. The hills, the towers and neighborhoods-built-on-towers, the disorganized and messy layout of the old city giving way to the careful, mathematical grid of more recent centuries as it neared the coast. The Bay of Ysara and its ships, numbering probably in the thousands.

Of course, this would be nothing compared to the view I was going to see during the trip. In a way, though, it felt nicer like this. Where there was still a sense of tangibility to it.

"...probably didn't come because of something like this, if I had to bet. It'd be just like them to snub the whole affair based on a trifling detail," I heard Kamrusepa say, only half paying attention.

"I dunno," Ptolema said. "That doesn't really seem right to me."

"What, you think they'd complain?" She scoffed. "I can't imagine them deigning to lower themselves to such a level."

"Not complain," Ptolema said. "But, y'know, I feel like they'd probably do something explosive instead? They would've done somethin' to show they didn't agree with the process, like gone to the opposite of whichever they got stuck on. Which I guess would have been with us..."

"They're not a wizard, Ptolema, despite what they might believe. I doubt they would have the ability to interfere in something the academy is keeping such a close hand on." She sounded vaguely amused. "So that's what you think? They'd be sent with us?"

"Well... Yeah."

"Why?"

Ptolema sounded audibly uncomfortable at this line of questioning, her tone hesitant. "Uh, well... Y'know, it's an old organization, and most of the members grew up centuries ago, so, uh..."

Kam clicked her tongue. "Let's get a third opinion. Hey, Su."

I blinked, turning in their direction. They were over by one of the trees towards the middle of the little park. Kam was perched up on the top of her luggage like it was some kind of throne, the arcane platform straining a little at the added weight, and Ptolema was leaning against it, craning her neck.

"Um," I said. "What?"

"We're talking about how the organizers would have handled Fang for this," she said, with a smirk. "In the alternate timeline where they weren't off shirking their obligations, that is to say."

I looked at the two of them for a moment, then turned back in the direction of the ridge. "I'm opting out of this conversation."

"Whaaat?" Kam said, drawing out the word in a disappointed fashion. "Come on, Su. Don't be a sourpuss."

"I'm not going to speculate about someone like this when they're not around," I said firmly. "It's uncomfortable, not to mention pretty mean-spirited."

"We're not speculating about them, we're speculating about the order by way of them. It's an intellectual exercise," she said. "And besides, it's Fang that we're talking about, here. If they were with us, they'd probably join in."

Kamrusepa was referring to our class's most academically acclaimed member, who wouldn't be joining the other ten of us on this excursion. They were distant in general from our group, having already earned enough recognition that they didn't really even need the help of the academy. Evidently, they felt they didn't really need to help of the order, either. Their decision to opt-out had actually caused something of a crisis early in the planning process.

We'd never found out why they'd decided not to go, though it wasn't exactly out of character.

"I don't--"

"And double besides," she continued, interjecting, "you gossip about people behind their back all the time. You hypocrite."

She's got you there.

"Well, this feels different," I said, frowning. "So I'd rather not."

"Tch," she said, rolling her eyes. (I couldn't actually see her rolling her eyes, but I'd known her long enough to feel confident.) "You get so delicate when it comes to any topic that dips its toes even a little bit outside of social convention."

I decided not to respond to that. Social convention was one of the areas where Kamrusepa could be, to be as charitable as possible, difficult.

"What about you, Ophelia?" Kam asked. Last I saw, the subject of her question had been on another bench, sitting quietly. "How would you speculate they would have handled it?"

"A-Ahh, how would they have, I wonder...?" she replied, in her gentle, girlish voice. "Well, if one considers the parties involved, it's in everyone's interest for there not to be any fuss, so I would expect they would have simply asked them what they'd prefer? Or made alternative arrangements for them, or divided the groups differently..."

"That answer is entirely too sensible, Ophelia," Kam said, sternly. "It's in defiance of the spirit of the question."

"Ah, m-my apologies," she replied, her tone absurdly genuine. "I can try and come up with a funnier one, if you like...?"

I couldn't tell if she was being serious or not. But then, that was always kind of how it was, with her.

I hesitate to characterize people based on stereotypes, and especially questionable ones, but the easiest way to describe Ophelia - at least on a superficial level - was to say that she almost embodied the 'traditional feminine ideal', at least as much as that was a coherent concept. She was meek, soft spoken, and compassionate to seemingly everyone, no matter how much they were overtly insufferable; an eerily good representation of the image that pops into the average idiot's head when you say the word 'healer'. You could easily picture her in some grim scene of yore, standing tall and with motherly grace amongst a crowd of misbegotten, filthy lepers, the energies of her hands performing miracles of the divine.

Her appearance lined up with this, too. She had blue eyes and long locks of near-straight, ash-blonde hair, tied back into a ponytail, defined but gentle features, and wore very conservative grey and white robes that covered everything except her face and the lower half of her hands. Often, she even had the hood raised. Even more so than Ptolema, I felt certain there had to be more to her than her persona. My mind couldn't accept that a person like this genuinely existed, and constantly concocted theories about her being some kind of secret serial killer. That was what girls like this were, right? Secret serial killers? I could swear I saw moments that seemed to point to the possibility.

She was also the second Biomancer in our class that I alluded to earlier. Though Biomancy was overgrown with schools, in the context of healing, one could broadly break it down into two approaches. The first was to heal via the manipulation of the body's biology directly; to compel the cells and tissue to behave the way you wanted it to rather than what it would do naturally. This was known as Assistive Biomancy, since it merely "assisted" the body.

The second, more aggressive school of thought was to instead heal through outside intervention, conjuring (or introducing, through arcane means) elements completely foreign to the body, and either replacing or manipulating the original. This was known as Interventionist Biomancy, or sometimes Alienist Biomancy, since it focused on... Well, alien objects.

To give an example of the difference, if one were to use arcana to aid the body in repairing an organ, that would be Assistive Biomancy. If one were to replace that organ instead, that would be Alienist Biomancy. Seth followed the former school, which was popular in his homeland of Mekhi since the culture had a naturalist bent, whereas Ophelia followed the latter.

You'll understand why I'm telling you all this later.

"Goodness gracious," Kam said to herself. "Fine, fine. I'll drop the topic, if you're all going to be so particular about it." She clapped her hands together. "So! Is everyone bristling with excitement? My stomach is all in knots, I have to confess. I can't believe that within a few hours, I'll be up close with some of the greatest minds in the entire field. There are so many things I can't wait to ask!"

"I'm bristling with something, I'm pretty sure," I said. "Not sure it's excitement, though."

"Isn't your old professor from Mekhi going to be there too, Su?" She asked me. "You're always bringing her up. You must been looking forward to that much, at least."

I made a humming noise. I was looking forward to that a bit, but I didn't want to get into it with her.

"It makes me feel kinda dumb to admit," Ptolema said, her tone a little embarrassed, "but more than anything, I'm actually really excited to go up the Aetherbridge."

"You've never ridden it before, Ptolema?" Kam asked. "With your family, I would have thought--"

"Nah, nah, I have. Just not since I was a little kid." She sighed a little bit. "When my mom died, I think it reminded my dad too much of her, so he stopped taking us. And since I've moved out on my own, it's just been school, school, school..."

"Mm, I understand," she replied, her tone turning somewhat sympathetic.

"I've been looking forward to that a lot, too," Ophelia chimed in meekly. "I've wanted to see the Empyrean ever since I read about it as a child. I've heard it's a wondrous sight, to see the star-lanterns up close, where they surround you in all directions..."

"I wouldn't have taken you for being into voidnautics, Ophelia," I said. For some reason, the words came out sounding vaguely like an accusation. It felt like this always happened whenever I talked to her. Like I was a base creature who could only be comparatively rude and crude in her presence.

"Oh, no!" she said. "Nothing so grand! I just find it a romantic notion, that's all. Being able to look down on the whole world, standing in the place that people once saw as home to the gods themselves..." She smiled, almost looking embarrassed. "Well, I suppose it's probably not the same as it would have been in the old world, but it makes it feel auspicious to have been born in this era, and to be here, in the Mimikos..."

Ophelia also often had an odd way of wording things, like she hadn't become quite used to speaking in Ysaran yet. It was funny, since she'd lived in the area for as long as I had, so far as I was aware.

"What I'm getting from this," Kam said, "is that people are more excited about the trip than the destination itself. That seems a little concerning, I have to confess."

"I'm excited for the conclave too, of course," Ophelia said. "I've always wanted to ask master Zeno about his theories in Neuromancy Through The Gut. That was one of my favorite texts when I first became a student; it really dismantled a lot of ideas I had about Biomancy. And I'd love to make some sort of contribution to their work!" She smiled weakly. "Though, I'm not sure how likely that is to happen..."

"I'd be more into it if I wasn't so worried about my presentation," Ptolema said. "Kinda makes it feel like work, y'know?"

"Well, it rather is work," Kam said. "It's just work you ought to be excited about. Doesn't it thrill you that we're the first ever group of outsiders... Well, mostly outsiders, at least... To be invited to something like this? To have a chance to peek behind the curtain?"

She scratched the back of her head. "I guess so. I have heard some crazy rumors about the place." One seemed to occur to her, her eyes going bright. "Hey, did y'know that people say they have a real life immortal in their spooky hideout? Where like, he's so immortal that if you try to cut one of his hairs, the scissors will just break instead? They say they have a special facility just to keep him captive, and they do experiments on him so they can try and gain his power. It's wild."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The other woman gave her a disapproving frown. "I said to 'peek behind the curtain', not to pursue borderline-slanderous fantasy, Ptolema."

Ptolema blew a small raspberry. "You're no fun."

Kam clicked her tongue, turning to the side. "What about you, Ran? You're the other among us from a more modest background. You must share a little of my enthusiasm."

Ran didn't look up from her book. She was just about in my line of sight, sitting on top of her trunk. "I'm looking forward to seeing their library. I've heard they have old texts from before the fundamentalist era that you can't find anywhere else in the world, like Ubar's The 29 Forms of Programmed Senescence. I spent the better part of a month looking for a copy last year, and I could only find extracts."

"I thought they released everything that was confiscated after the reforms...?" Ophelia asked.

"That's the theory," Ran replied. She turned a page in her novel. "But most people who had anything really rare or valuable hid it, rather than giving it up. Then you have two centuries of books being hid in cellars or under floorboards, passed around on black markets... Not much is going to get through all that."

"Hah, sounds like a testament to the stupidity of the era," Kam said. "A policy meant to enforce the Covenant ends up breaking it even more. So much for 'I shall preserve knowledge in all forms,' hm?"

"Mm," Ran said, then narrowed her eyes, peering into the distance. "Heads up. Looks like our last two are here."

I turned again, looking in the direction she was facing.

Approaching down the park pathway were two figures. The first was a tall, somewhat tired looking woman with a heavier build than most our class, with a dark complexion and curly black hair tied back into a tight bun that was fraying a little bit at the edges. She had a wide, soft-featured face that was pretty - if a little forgettable - and was dressed in a conservative, frilled dress colored green and brown, with a few streaks of purple at the hem. Unlike most of the people who I've been describing so far, she wasn't an arcanist, so there was no scepter or bag for such anywhere on her body.

Who did have a scepter, however - strapped to her back, instead of the standard of the waist - was the other person with her. A young girl, clad in a colorful floral skirt and red tunic. And when I say young, I mean young.

In the modern era, once someone reached the age of 19, they looked pretty much the same for the next three and a half centuries or so until, in their late 300's, the first signs of difficult-to-treat geronic degradation would start to appear unless they specifically pursued cosmetic treatment. As a result, a taboo of a sort had emerged about asking people their specific age; most people identified themselves only by their 'generation', in reference to the century of their birth. Though I knew that everyone in the exemplary acolytes class was young because it was a class specifically for gifted young people, other than Ran, Ptolema and Theodoros, I was pretty fuzzy on their specific ages, because we had all passed puberty and entered that nebulous period.

This girl, though, was obviously still in her early teens. My guess would have been the back end of 13, if I had to put a number on it; puberty had got its talons on her, but hadn't yet dug them too deep into her skin. She was short and very thin, with medium brown skin and slightly curly, brownish-black hair tied into a neat ponytail. Her facial features were round and puffy, but still small and immature.

This was Lilith of Eshkalon, and the other woman was her mother, who's name I was just about able to recall was Mehit.

Everyone in our class (even Ptolema, I had to presume) was considered, to some degree, a prodigy. We'd all of us been skipped ahead somewhat in both elementary and higher education, won some student awards, and generally made the lives of the adults tasked with schooling us difficult. Lilith, though, was a capital P child Prodigy in a truer sense of the word. Even at her age, she had an academic record to rival some of us. I'd heard she'd received her first diploma at age ten.

It was a little intimidating, to be honest.

The rest of us hadn't been allowed to invite any guests along with us to the conclave, but they'd made an exception for Lilith, since she was still just a child. If anything happened to her at the conclave without a parent, then it would presumably lead to trouble that a pseudo-clandestine organization like the order would strongly want to avoid.

I didn't really know anything about her mother. We'd only met twice. She seemed like a pleasant enough lady.

"I'm so sorry," the woman in question said, looking exasperated, her tone serious. "One of our bags got misplaced on the way, and there some accident on the tram line that slowed everything down--"

"It's quite alright, ma'am," Kam said, in the more mature, less playful tone that she reserved for when she was trying to play the serious class leader. She hopped down gracefully from her luggage chair, and glanced at her logic engine while approaching the new arrivals. "We're still in fine enough time."

"We haven't kept you all waiting?"

"A little bit," Kam admitted, "But we would have just ended up waiting indoors instead of out here anyway. Nothing to worry about."

The woman took a moment to calm down, then let out a sigh, rubbing her brow. "Thank goodness. You don't know how close I came to tearing myself to pieces with worry." She blinked, shaking her head. "Pardon me. I'm being terribly rude. We met this morning, you said your name was, mm, Kara, uhh--"

"Kam-ru-sepa," Kam clarified, smiling widely. "I forgot to say back then with all the fuss after the presentation, but it's lovely to finally meet you! Lilith talks about you all the time."

This was a complete fiction. I couldn't recall her ever even mentioning her.

I sort of wish she hadn't come, I found myself thinking. It always changes the atmosphere, when there's a non-arcanist.

Mehit gave a polite smile in return, still seeming a little tense. "She's a very good girl," she said. "I can't express how proud I am of her, for all this."

Despite being talked about, Lilith herself seemed completely disinterested in the exchange. Her gaze was focused an object in her right hand-- Her own logic engine, I could see after I adjusted my glasses. She had the casing open, and was picking at the inside of it with a disaffected expression.

"Shall I do a round of introductions?" Kam gestured her hand in the direction of our group. "I believe you met Utsushikome, our Thanatomancer, and Ran, our Diviner, this morning? And these two are Ophelia, one of our Biomancers, and Ptolema, our class surgeon."

"Hi," Ptolema said, holding up a hand.

"Hello. It's nice to meet you," Ophelia said sincerely. "I'm sorry you to hear you had such a troubled journey."

"That's very kind of you to say," she said, and looked out over the group. "It's a pleasure to meet you all-- Thank you for taking care of my daughter, this past year."

Everyone smiled and made vaguely affirming noises (well, with the exception of Ran, who wasn't really the type to feign feelings as a means to avoid social awkwardness) with the unspoken words being that she seemed not only capable of taking care of herself, but rather firm in her desire to so. Lilith glanced up very briefly with a cold expression, as if to remind everyone of this fact.

"I've always wanted to know more about Lili's classmates," Mehit continued, "but if you don't mind, would be alright if we moved along? I don't mean to disrupt you all if you've been relaxing, but it makes me rather anxious to leave this sort of thing to the last minute."

"We~ll," Kam said, thoughtful, "we still have about twenty minutes to spare, but I suppose there's no harm if it'll put you at ease." She smiled brightly.

She's just gonna go ahead and make the decision for everyone, huh, I thought to myself.

"Alright, everyone, let's go," she said, clapping her hands together. "Chop chop!"

Collectively, we all stood up and gathered up our baggage, though I heard some light complaining from Ptolema. I didn't know any arcana that could efficiently levitate an object and then have it follow behind me and didn't really feel like asking for help, so I just hefted up my trunk myself.

We turned and headed in the opposite direction from the cliff, out of the park, towards the structure that was our destination and at the absolute highest point in the entire city. Well, after a fashion - the base and supports of it were actually at a much lower elevation down all the way in the canal markets, but the main facility was up here. The park itself was part of it, in a way, one of the several peripheral developments intended for the people coming and going. It was about a quarter of a mile from us, across a concrete plaza bustling with people.

Most people would have agreed that it was the greatest feat of engineering in the Mimikos, unless you considered the Mimikos itself a feat of engineering. It was a colossal tower wrought mostly of bronze and titanium. Aside from the bulky stone structure at its base, it was thin but impossibly, unfathomably tall. If I craned my neck and squinted, I could just about make out of the point where it narrowed even further into what was essentially only a handful of thick poles of metal, but making out the actual top was impossible.

When I'd learned this was to be only the first of two parts to our journey, I'd begun to understand the extent to which the order was, even now, fanatically paranoid.

We headed towards the entrance.

𒊹

Old Yru Upper Plaza, Aetherbridge Entrance Hall | 2:17 PM | First Day

"Heheh, I just had a funny thought, Su," Ptolema said to me as we walked, snickering a little to herself.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Theo's pretty scared of heights, isn't he?"

"Oh." I thought about this for a moment. "Yeah, he is."

"I bet that'll make for a funny story when we meet up with the guys."

I peered at her curiously. "You know, sometimes it feels like you have a bit of a sadistic streak to you, Ptolema."

"Hey, I'm just goofing around." she said, and shook her head. "Geez. Everything with you always has to be some kinda psychological phenomena."

The walls were smooth and curved, and the windows ran along with them in funny patterns, the crystal glass work like a spider's web against the pristine marble and varnished bronze, the latter flowing gracefully down from the ceiling to form the pillars of the structure. You could taste the modernity of the place in the air, the pulse of the sheer amount of human effort that had gone into its recent construction. It evoked something between a temple and a spectacularly over-budget train station or airdock, which seemed appropriate for a structure that really came about as close to defying the gods as you can get.

We'd come in the afternoon, so the atrium wasn't as busy as it could have been, but it was still pretty busy, with medium-to-long queues for almost everything. Kam was, of course, taking the lead in finding us the optimal means of access, while the rest of us followed along. Lilith's mother looked particularly overwhelmed, although I could only tell so much behind her veil.

Ran was trailing a little behind us. She always kept kind of a distance from crowds when they were big enough.

"Actually, uh, come to think of it," Ptolema went on, "what should we do if we do run into the guys while we're here? Like, if we break the instructions by mistake?"

"Hm, I suppose it would be best to just try and pretend we haven't spotted them, and hope they do the same?" Kam suggested. "I shouldn't expect that will happen, though. The entrance hall is simply too big for it to be likely-- Plus, their ascent is scheduled for fifteen minutes before ours. They're probably already in the lift."

"Wait," Ptolema said, objectionably. "They let them go fifteen minutes earlier? That's bullshit!"

"I'm, uh, sure it was just an arbitrary choice, Ptolema..." Ophelia said, her tone soothing.

We headed through an archway into the next area, which was larger and even more occupied. Restaurants and petty distribution centers lined the sides of the walls, but our ultimate destination was a checkpoint at the far end, which was broken into multiple desks to serve as many people as possible.

Flying from the rafters above them was the banner of the Grand Alliance, large enough that it cast a shadow over much of the area. The symbol on it was a thick, upward-facing crescent - a stylized emblem meant to resemble the shape of the continent - that was faded gold in colour, over an off-black background that supposedly represented mourning for the old world. A line of iron-coloured grey shot down vertically through the center, representing the bond forged by the Covenant, which the foundation of the Alliance had supposedly renewed with the onset of the fundamentalist period.

This place, now almost 40 years old, had been one of its last great projects before the revolution, which had changed everything. In many senses, it was the swan song of a dying era, in which unconditional cooperation and unity of vision had been taken for granted.

The unabashed, blind patriotism to the endeavor that banner embodied now almost seemed a little quaint. An echo that hadn't quite faded yet.

Kam led us to the queue at one of the desks. Five or so minutes later, it was our turn.

"Good afternoon!" Kam said to the man on duty, cheerfully. "Party of seven here for the two thirty-five ascension on lift number three. Here are our tickets." She passed the man a small stack of square cards that we had collectively surrendered to her a few minutes earlier.

The man spent a moment peering at them, then made a few notes on the heavy tome in front of him, before speaking in a tired, almost mechanical tone. "Please present your documents and process yourself through the logic bridge," he said.

One by one, we produced our parchment letters for admission and record of travel, which he stamped in turn with a wax seal, before pressing our hands into the pillar of glass by the side of the desk. I went third to last, with only Ophelia and Ran behind.

Understand that the fee of fifty luxury debt for this ascension will be waived as you are performing a civil service, the logic bridge communicated. Understand that, as an arcanist, you must surrender your scepter to the armory upon entrance. Understand that you are expected to obey the following rules in good faith...

The impulses came slowly and awkwardly. They probably only had a single logic engine running all the bridges, somewhere underground.

"I bet it's frustrating for you especially to go through something like this, Lilith," Kam said from a little up ahead, in what I can only assume was some kind of performative act for the sake of her mother, since she knew what happened when you tried to talk to Lilith about most things.

Lilith, for her part, said nothing, only staring ahead at the pillar as she touched.

"Lili," her mother said, with a chiding tone. "Don't ignore people when they're talking to you. It's rude."

The teenager glanced upwards, then grimaced before speaking. Her voice came out loud and unmoderated, as usual. "It is outdated garbage, with certainty. Barely synchronized even for its limited purposes." She narrowed her eyes. "But that is not the true intent of the comment. She is trying to be irritating."

"Lili," the woman repeated, her tone a bit sterner, but also more strained. "I told you not to speak so loud in public."

She didn't respond, only staring forward with a cold, stiff expression.

She took her daughter to the side after that, and the forward momentum of the crowd meant I didn't see exactly how the exchange ended. As for the rest of us, we proceeded through a short hallway - one of those detachable ones you also encountered when boarding an airship - and soon arrived at our destination: A grand, circular chamber attached to the central tower of the Aetherbridge itself, packed tightly with cushioned wooden seats, and with multiple stories built densely on top of one another to maximize capacity for the size.

On the bottom floor, where we entered, an area had been sectioned off, behind which there was a small counter and a heavily-reinforced door; at present it was open, the area beyond having the look of a small vault. The counter was manned by a bored-looking woman and a surly uniformed man holding a refractor rifle.

This was the armory where arcanists were obliged to turn in their scepters, another custom one more commonly associated with airship travel. While conventional weapons were so tightly regulated and surveillance so advanced in the modern era that you probably couldn't carry so much as a kitchen knife into the building without getting intercepted, scepters were so fundamental to using the Power at all - and arcanists in their various roles so fundamental to most every aspect of society - that they weren't really thought of as weapons in the public consciousness, and so went mostly unregulated. But the fact was they were weapons, or at least could be. And in certain circumstances like, say, being crammed in a tiny box with hundreds of other people countless miles in the air... Well-- We were living in an era where domestic terrorism had become far more common. I'm sure I don't need to paint you a picture.

Of course, taking the scepter away wasn't enough to neuter an arcanist completely, which is why they also had you declare your presence at the gate. There were an increasing amount of provisions like that, nowadays.

Kamrusepa clicked her tongue as we approached, glancing over her shoulder. "Where did Lilith and her mother go?"

"Dunno," Ptolema said, shrugging.

"I think they got separated in the crowd," Ophelia remarked, looking mildly concerned. "It seemed as though they were getting into a bit of an argument... I hope everything is alright..."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Kam replied, making a dismissive gesture. She stepped up to the counter, speaking in a bored tone. "Five arcanists boarding, here to deposit our scepters."

The woman behind the counter nodded. "Names?"

"Kamrusepa of Tuon, Utsushikome of Fusai, Ran of Hoa-Trinh, Ophelia of the Glass Fields, Ptolema of Rheeds," she said, pointing to each of us respectively. "All registered on the way in, before you ask."

She raised her brow slightly at Ophelia's name, but quickly moved past it. "Please place your scepters on the counter."

We unhooked them and did so, the metal clanking loudly on the surface.

"My apologies, but our golems are undergoing maintenance today, so you'll need to wait a moment for your slips," she stated mechanically, before moving to store them in the room behind her.

"That's fine," Kamrusepa said, but turned around and rolled her eyes at us, lowering her voice. "Can't believe they make us do this. As if the Censors they have on board shredding our resistances isn't enough already."

"It's just security, Kam," I told her flatly. "It's not that big a deal."

She scoffed. "I thought you'd be savvier than that, Su. Haven't you noticed the winds shifting when it comes to arcanists in public? Casting getting restricted in more and more public spaces, personal flight being all but banned?" She crossed her arms idly. "It's hardly a matter of safety, but of sour grapes. Jealous busybodies not cut out for Induction taking offense to people levitating their books."

"Probably more like people feeling uneasy when they're reminded the guy sitting next to them could melt their face off if they looked at him funny," Ran commented drly.

"Two on one again," Kam declared, sighing in an over-the-top fashion. "Ptolema, you're always complaining about how they won't let you bring your scepter into the exam hall any more-- You'll back me up."

Ptolema held up a hand objectionably. "Hey, leave me outta this. I ain't got any more serious conversations in me today. They were just bullying me a couple hours ago."

I glanced at her, twisting my lip skeptically. "I mean, you were kind of advocating eugenics."

Ptolema's face puffed up angrily. "I was no way advocating eugenics! You're takin' what I said totally outta context!" She looked between me, Kam and Ran, frowning unhappily. "You three always do stuff like this!"

To her side, Ophelia was giggling a bit, holding a hand to her mouth.

Kamrusepa seemed a little amused too, smirking and shaking her head. "Oh, never mind." Her eyes wandered back towards the tunnel we arrived from. "Gods, what is taking those two so long?"

"Guess she couldn't get Lilith to shut up," Ran said, her eyes following. "Maybe she had to take her aside to calm her down."

"Hard to blame her," Kam said, with a small snort. "I doubt even Anue himself could make her act normally in public-- Though it must be rather embarrassing, as her mother. It's a good thing we got here early."

Ophelia frowned. "That feels a little callous to say, Kam... I mean, we all know Lili has her, um..." She hesitated. "Well, her issues..."

"Come now, we're all friends here," Kam said aspirationally. "I hardly see the point in dancing around the matter."

"It has to be difficult for her," I said, not sure if I was motivated by the desire to confront Kam's standard elitist bullshit, or if I was just possessed by the omnipresent human urge to gossip about people behind their backs. "Having a kid who's not only, well... Like Lilith... But already doing work even most adults would struggle with... It's got to mess with the normal parental dynamic."

"I didn't say I lacked sympathy for the woman," Kam defended herself. "Though I confess I've never really understood the impulse to rear children in the first place."

"I didn't realize you were an anti-natalist," I said. On top of all your other interesting beliefs.

She pffted at me. "It's nothing ideological, Su. I just don't see the point in it. Rather, as far as it seems to me--"

"Here are your slips," the woman on the counter said, as she thrust four numbered cards at Kamrusepa. "You can proceed inside."

"Oh, thank you very much!" Kam said, reverting back to her smiley-diplomatic form for a moment before stepping away from the counter and continuing as she handed us the cards. "...as far as it seems to me, the desire to reproduce is essentially an immature form of pursuing life-extension. The idea that you'll 'live on through your children', couching animal instinct in psuedo-mysticism."

"Could probably use that sentence to train an AI to replace you," Ran remarked, as she stuffed her card into her pocket and got her luggage together again. Ptolema laughed.

"Very amusing," Kam spoke dryly. "Are you eager to follow your biological imperative and start popping out infants, then, Ran?"

"Fuck no," Ran said, not even turning to look at her. "I just thought you were being pretentious."

"I'm making a point." She glanced over her shoulder. "Ugh, let's just find our seats for now. The other two can catch up later."

We set off, heading into the seating area, navigating the labyrinth of settling-in travelers and luggage.

"I think you'd make a good mother, Ran," Ophelia said, with a sincere warmth that screamed she meant this as an unironic compliment. "You seem like you have a knack for taking care of people."

Ran didn't respond to this, but did turn to give me a Look, her eyes narrow.

Hey, I didn't even say anything!

"I mean, I wouldn't really wanna have kids either," Ptolema said, "but I kinda feel like you're being short-sighted, Kam. Like, new people have gotta come from somewhere, right? Otherwise it's bad for the economy or whatever."

"Not if we achieve true immortality at a grand enough scale," she retorted. "A stagnant population is the endgame of human society. Or at least a largely stagnant one-- Obviously there will always be a minority who choose a finite lifespan of their own free will." Her tone excreted ambivalent disdain for anyone who would do this.

"Setting aside your unhatched chickens," I said as we started heading up the stairs, "don't you think you're sort of overlooking some of the interpersonal value of having children? Passing down your ideals, having people to support you, that kind of stuff?"

"None of those necessitate parenthood, nor does parenthood guarantee them," Kam countered, holding up a finger as her platform once more hauled her various bags. "In fact, surely a more reliable path would be becoming a cultural or community figure? Likely less trouble, too, not to mention better pay."

I frowned. "I guess." I scratched my head, a vague feeling that wanted to be expressed stirring in my gut, even as my brain failed to support it with any kind of logic. "It just feels... I don't know, like a nice idea to have someone with that intimate a connection with. From the moment they come to exist."

"An idealization born of maternal instinct," Kam stated, though I wasn't so sure. "Again: An animal impulse-- Though I'm surprised you were the one to express it."

I blinked. "Why do you say that?"

She looked to me, her eyes peering through the veil. "Well, didn't you tell me before that you were never going to have children?"

I blinked again as my mind caught up, remembering the occasion. "Oh." I frowned slightly. "...right, yeah. I see what you mean."

We headed to our seats.