Inedible

Secundi Lux

Aoife

“The best team there is.” Noel agrees to Aoife’s question, a wide grin cutting her face as the two move across the dance floor.

When Aoife requests that the other girl take the lead she nods gamely, the blonde Ars Magi taking a firmer grip on her partner and beginning to move her along the dancefloor. Their steps become more graceful as she and Aoife work in sync, their dance transforming into something smooth and elegant, yet simple. A far cry from the earlier, clumsier movements.

When the music finally dims Noel gives her partner one final twirl, dipping her low before coming to a stop. She grins again, a broad and toothy smile.

“Alright,” She says, “Now you’ve got it. Round two, coming up!”

Chie

“I see.” Chie’s partner responds to her inexperience. “I’d guess there’d be less of you familiar with this sort of thing. Just, things being what they are.”

He keeps the motions of the dance simple, an uncomplicated sway to allow more focus on conversation and less on the complexity of the dance.

“We have teams, yes.” He replies. “They change fairly often, but it’s supposed to instill comradery and personal skills and all that.” He falls silent a moment, musing before explaining further: “It’s probably not as exciting as your school. We drill mostly, learn tactics and history, strategies for dealing with Voids and how to direct and deploy assets. We’re supposed to be working closer with you all in the future.”

The swaying continues, a bit more idle conversation before the music begins to wind down. The officer offers a polite smile, dipping his head and offering: “It was nice to meet you, Chie. I’ll let you go—but thank you for the dance.”

She’s given a reprieve after at last, freed from obligation for the time being. At least, if she’s quick enough to escape the dance floor before more partners come looking.

Crystal

“It’s fine.” Says Liam to Crystal’s apology.

The young man offers a small smile after, and in return to Crystal’s advice he replies, “I do assure you, I have better things to do than learn the waltz. I enrolled in the Academy to be an officer,” He says, “Not to dance with pretty girls.” There’s no condescension in the words, just a mild amusement.

“That said, I would rather not cause a diplomatic incident. So, if you’ll join me...”

The officer takes Crystal’s hand, and the dance commences. He provides competent enough not to step on her feet, taking the girl on a slow jaunt across the dance floor. Once the motions finish and they part again he gives a polite bow in return to her curtsey, replying,

“Thank you, Crystal. Try to stay sane out there.”

He parts after, a brief smile before the boy vanishes into the crowd.

Selma

“My guess is magic takes more work than most of what we do.” Replies Selma’s partner, his hands moving the tall girl easily through the motions of their dance.

“We’ve seen recordings from a few of your exercises,” He replies to her question. “To get an understanding of what you’re capable of. We’re supposed to be supporting you, so we’ve got at least a working knowledge of Ars Magi.”

The steps slow now, a brief lull as the conversation continues. “We’re supposed to be receiving individual dossiers for our next exercise. With most of you having unique powers, we have to understand what you’re capable of to do our jobs.”

“Personally I’d rather hear what Selma has to say about Selma than read about it in a report.” The boy says with a grin.

As the final notes of the waltz die out the cadets grip loosens, separating himself from his partner with another smile. “I hope we’ll meet again soon, Selma. There’s a spot for you over at our table, if you want to take a break.”

Rivka

“I haven’t had much of a chance.” The girl replies to Rivka’s question of keeping in practice. “But I should. I don’t want to forget entirely.” She offers a small smile as they sway, adding, “Hopefully I can get back to it.”

There’s a nod after, a reply of, “I’ll come and see. I enjoy listening, when I have free time. Maybe we can talk again there?”

The dance comes to a close on that hopeful note, the girl bowing her head and allowing Rivka to part after.

The night wears on, the crowd eventually thinning as the dignitaries and military officials make their exit. The cadets too eventually begin to make their exodus, a few final dances before the band winds down and the great hall is emptied for the night.

The Ars Magi return to their dorms afterward, the common room briefly abuzz with giddy chatter and shared stories.

Soon it will be time to retire to bed though, the evening finished and the festivities over.

Nova Lux: A Magical Girl Game

Cordelia’s portals provide convenient gateways, doors of glass that allow her teammates to spill out onto the battlefield. They glimmer in the moonlight, shimmering beacons that signal Team 3’s arrival on the battlefield.

Similarly, the resounding crash of Penny’s hammer indicates that the tides may be changing. Not soon though, and not easily. Though sparks fly when she makes her impact, the imposing machine barely buckles under the weight of the blow. The crater-like dent left behind in its metal ‘head’ is concrete proof that Penny’s done some damage, but the monstrosity doesn’t seem to slow any for it.

Instead it shifts to the side, making Penny’s footing on its rain-slicked metal surface abruptly more precarious. The force and speed with which the machine moves is surprising, a sudden jerk to the left as its upper body becomes alarming vertical. The bulk of it swings toward the nearest building, a half-standing skyscraper, its upper body into the ruined building with intent the flatten Penny like a pancake against its surface—or at least force her to abandon her perch before that happens.

On the ground the team of pinned-down officers is surprised briefly by the appearance of Cordelia’s doorway. When Dana appears from the doorway, however, they quickly recognize this as a good thing. Especially when the gunslinging Ars Magi begins blinding and blasting the advancing squad of drones bearing down on them.

“Dana!” It takes a minute before the Norban is recognized is her parma, but it happens eventually. Noah leans out from behind the chunk of the building he’s hiding behind, waving energetically to catch her attention.

“Shoot these!”

These being a bandolier of grenades that the large boy lobs toward the lumbering machines. They soar through the air, oval-shaped magitech bombs primed with a dull blue light. They’d make hard targets for your average marksman—but Noah’s counting on Dana to be anything but that.

In the meantime Amanda continues to dutifully prevent the closer machines from reaching her charges, arrows of ice sending several more drones crashing to the ground. She leaves Dana to the sharpshooting, focusing on close-quarters defense and letting Dana take care of the larger chunk of machines.

Nova Lux: A Magical Girl Game

“Aren’t you the cutest.” Aiya replies to Dana, the dark-haired girl resting her chin in her hands as she casts a winning smile at the energetic Norban. “Don’t worry, you’re not doing anything wrong. I don’t mind sharing the spotlight.”

The girl’s chestnut gaze turns to Cordelia after, listening to the other girl’s musing with a careful gaze. “Cordy,” She says, appropriating Nicole’s nickname with not even a hint of hesitance, “You’re one of the most powerful, most important women in the world. You should enjoy it while you can.” Her lips split into a wide, almost wolfish grin at the girl’s offer. “I won’t disappoint you.”

Craning backward after, the dark-haired girl stretches her arms overhead and remarks, as if reading Nicole’s train of thought: “We should all dance,” She suggests, musing. “Maybe I’ll arrange a celebration, if we pass our little exercise.”

And it’s the mention of that exercise, perhaps the reminder of it, that seems to break the tranquil spell that’s settled over the group.

“We’ve got a request for assistance. Webber’s group.” Says Garnier, the boy raising his head to motion toward his fellow officers. Both Aiya and Holst abandon their perches, huddling close around the communication equipment. The speak quickly between themselves, breaking after a hurried minute and turning back to their escort.

“One of our teams has run into a problem.” Holst explains shortly. “They’re requesting our assistance. It’s about a mile out, we’ve already got a route for you. Tell you more on route.” She tosses an earpiece to each of the Ars Magi, adding: “Go fast.”

---

MUSIC: Crawling Hostility

The Ars Magi find themselves at the mercy of the elements once more.

The route that Aiya’s squad has charted for them leads off the roof of the parking garage and on to that of a nearby building, and another after that, racing across the rubble-strewn rooftops of a long-ruined skyline. Ahead buzzes one of those triangular shaped objects that the officers had unpacked; a baseball-sized drone that leads the way. In the darkness it leaves a contrail of burning green light in its wake, a guiding beacon for the girls that follow.

Up high the wind is even more fierce, though the rain has slowed the veil of clouds has begun to part, illuminating the ruined district in the moon’s pale light. It’s still difficult to see the ground down below however, and the footing is uneasy on the shattered concrete the Ars Magi make their was across.

And then they see it.

It looms out of the darkness, easily three stories tall, but impossible to mistake for just another ruined building in a crumbling cityscape. It’s humanoid in shape, bipedal, two arms and two legs, though it eschews a head in exchange for a blocky central body. Its armor-plated body is gunmetal gray, illuminated by the garish red lights dotted over its massive frame. All along its frame are lined the weapons of war: machine-guns, missile pods, a dozen compartments filled with a dozen violent instruments.

Some of those instruments are currently in use. One of its arms, a massive cannon, glows with magitech energy as it discharges into the street bellow it. The approach team of Ars Magi can see a figure tumbling and cartwheeling away from the violent impacts, weaving her way through the blasts. Priya Khatri, adorned in the red and gold of her Parma, hurls a volley of swords with every duck and weave, a hail of blades that bounce off the steel carapace of the hulking machine above her.

While the machine is distracted one Blair McKenzie, flaming claymore in hand, is sawing into one of its legs. The gash she leaves when she strikes in the metal is deep, but the punishment is immediate. A sweep of the leg flings the red-haired girl tumbling away, vanishing through a half-ruined wall into a nearby building.

Just a few hundred feet from that impact another battle is being fought, a trio of officers and a single Ars Magi pinned down by a half-dozen of the smaller drones that the group already encountered. Amanda Wagner, taking cover amidst the rubble, propels arrows of frigid ice toward the machines, the oversized shafts puncturing through metal wherever they strike. The officers, Dima Novikov and Noah Webber among them, provide supporting fire that seems nearly useless against their hulking enemies.

Things do not look like they’re going well.

Nova Lux: A Magical Girl Game

The first blow is decisive.

Penny’s hammer crashes down on to the head of the first drone, the machine unprepared for the girl to come ripping through the empty space in its sensors created by Cordelia’s mirror shield and Nicole’s battering winds. The robot buckles under the weight of the blow, joints shuddering and rectangular head caving inwards as electricity burns through its circuits. The crater-shaped indentation left behind is proof of the force of her blow, as is the sound of tearing metal as she rebounds to her next target.

The second machine falls soon after, the first blow setting it off balance before it’s leg is taken out from under it. It careens into the first drone, the two crashing to the ground in a heap of metal. If there was any chance that they still had some fight in them Dana sees to that soon after, the quick bursts of light fired from her pistol puncturing through their exposed weak-points.

The conflict is over quickly, but the threat of discovery still lingers over the group’s collective head. A second passes, then several more, strained minutes of waiting to see if the other machines in the distance will respond.

They do not.

Once the coast is clear, after a few words of congratulations from the officers, the Ars Magi and their charges are able to make it across the street to the parking garage that’s been named their target. It’s mostly standing, a looming concrete structure filled with dark puddles of rainwater and chunks of rubble.

“Clear the building first.” Aiya instructs. “We’ll get set up near the top.”

It doesn’t take long to so. The space is dark but mostly empty, home only to chunks of concrete and the occasional automotive skeleton illuminated in the cone of the officer’s flashlights.

Once they reach the top floor Aiya gives the order to set up and Holst begins to unpack the equipment that the cadets brought along. It’s a small command station, a portable computer and what appear to be a group of baseball-sized triangular metal objects. Soon the cadet it speaking into a headset, checking in with command and giving a status report.

“We’re holding here for now.” The cadet explains, “Waiting on instructions.”

Minutes ticks by. From their vantage at the top floor the group can see out over the ruined district, their sightlines significantly less obscured than they were on ground level. Rain sheets down in the darkness, and here and there pale glow of Nox diffusers can be seen in the distance. Occasionally lightning lights the ruined skyscrapers and even more rarely bursts of light can be seen on the distant ground; other Ars Magi making their way through the night.

Holst had the presence of mind to pack dinner, several chunky protein bars that she offers to share amongst the Ars Magi while they wait. Garnier remains on the relay, but Aiya is ill-content to let the time pass in silence.

“I think I like your friends.” She remarks to Nicole from her perch on the hood of an old automobile.

“How’d you learn out how to fly around like that?” She asks of Penny, turning to address the smaller girl. “Or does it come naturally? You did some real work on those robots, I’m sure some engineer in Juno will be very upset with you.”

“And you’re a pretty good shot, aren’t you?” She says to Dana. “I hear you were pretty popular at our little ball, too. Everyone wanted to sit at your table. It could make a girl jealous.” She laughs, a high and pleasant sound before she turns her Cheshire cat smile to her next target.

“Speaking of that—you’re dance partner wanted me to send his regards, Miss Whittaker. You must have made an impression. Someday you’ll have to dance with me too.” Another laugh, and she adds, “If our dolcezza is willing to share you again.”

Secundi Lux

Selma

“They teach us lots of things. Recognizing value is one of them.”

Of the two cadets available, Selma’s partner is the less Selma-sized. He’s perhaps a head shorter, though he appears to be making up for it in sheer confidence. His arm encircles hers gamely, hardly a pause to consider before they return to the dance. The hand that comes to rest comfortably at Selma’s side guides easily through the motions of the dance, proving that the young man is a competent partner and her feet have less to worry about that with her previous.

“Nice to meet you, Selma. I didn’t think they grew Ars Magi quite as tall as you.” The steps become faster now, the tune changing to something more upbeat. “I’m Hyun,” The boy introduces himself soon after, seeming to have no trouble keeping up with the neat steps. “I’ve actually wanted to meet one of you for a while. Since we came here, but this is the first chance we’ve had.”

“How has Nova Lux been treating you? The Officer’s Academy is a bore, all drills and exams. I imagine a school where they teach magic would have to be much more exciting.” He steps, twirling Selma out, drawing her in again.

“The word is that you’ve already fought your share of Voids. Is that true?”

Rivka

“I see.” Says Rivka’s partner as the purple-haired girl explains the origin of her musical ability. The cadet listens with clear and rapt attention, though she still manages to hit each step of the winding waltz that takes the pair through the crowd. Occasionally she nods, more enthusiastically as Rivka continues to expound on the nature of art.

“I think so too. I mean, the way you put it is so much better that I could, but, I agree.” Another nod comes from the girl as the music begins to a little faster, a little looser. “I used to play piano—just, I mean, I took lessons, so I’m not very good, but I’ve always loved music.”

As Rivka speaks more of magic as her ability the girl agrees: “I see—I have a hard time believing that could happen, too. That there could be another person like you, I mean.” She pauses, as if realizing what she said, and begins to stammer out several less-than-coherent words before she takes the opportunity to change to the topic to herself.

“Why become a cadet? Well—it’s sort of a family tradition. I’ve been preparing for it since I was a little girl, mostly.” She pauses there, adding with a sheepish smile, “And, you know, I want to help make the world a better place, and the Academy is one place I can do that.”

Chie

With Selma off on her own adventure, Chie is left to her new partner. The tall cadet is dark-skinned and dark eyed, hair shaved short. He’s not quite as tall as Selma, but still easily taller than Crystal herself. His hand reaches to take the offered one gently, other hand settling on Chie’s shoulder as he begins to lead her back into the lilting steps of the dance.

“Cayman.” Her partner answers, “Cayman Sow. Nice to meet you.” He’s not as good of a lead as Selma, but the boy is a decent enough guide to keep Chie and his own feet in the right general area. It becomes clear soon enough that this one is less talkative than his companion, the dance continuing on in silence for a minute or so before he cadet ventures forth a topic of conversation:

“You’re nervous.” He observes. “Don’t worry. You’re doing fine.” The music becomes faster, a little looser, and though the steps are quicker they seem to at least be a little more free-form.

“Is this the first time you’ve been to a ball, Chie?” The boy asks as they sway, “I know most of you, the Magi, might not be used to this. Where are you from?” Another few steps and he supplies a pre-emptive answer to his own origin: “I’m from Osca.“

Crystal

The topic of machines will have to be broached later, as Castra vanishes into the crowd momentarily. There’s no one left to save Crystal from his inevitable return though, and he brings with him one of the many young officers that are scattered throughout the ballroom. The boy is of average height, his hair dark, a small blotch of darker skin under one cheek marring an otherwise beige complexion.

“Liam, this is Crystal von Caelestis. Crystal, Liam Neptune.”

With introductions made the younger man extends a hand to Crystal, leading her out toward the dance floor. Castra seems satisfied enough with this, nodding his head before he vanishes into the crowd, his work completed.

“I’m sorry about him.” The young man, Liam, says Crystal. “I didn’t want to cause a diplomatic incident, so I thought it would be better to humor him. You don’t have to dance, if you don’t want to.” He smiles weakly, confessing, “I’m not very good at it, anyway. I skipped all my lessons.”

Nova Lux: A Magical Girl Game

The rain moves at the behest of the wind, and the wind at the will of Nicole Cognoscenti. Sheets of water reorient in the direction of the rumbling machines, wind and rain mercilessly buffeting their metal exteriors. The downpour, earlier an unforeseen inconvenience, is transformed now into a potent weapon against the Ars Magi’s would-be hunters.

One that becomes even more effective when Cordelia calls her mirrors. There’s enough shattered glass and broken windows for her to make adequate use of her talents, enough to camouflage the small party of Ars Magi and officers. The later group fall in behind their protectors, Holst peering through her binoculars and calling out the directions to Nicole, ensuing that she’s redirecting the rain toward in the direction of the largest groups of drones.

The going is slow, careful steps and routing required for the group to pick their way across the rubble and ruined streets in front of them. It takes some thirty minutes before they begin the final approach to their destination, the parking garage that looms up over the smaller surrounding structures. They’ve managed to avoid the drones so far, giving wide berth when able and letting the heavy machines clunk and crunch past on their patrols.

It’s on the street adjacent to the garage that the group runs out of luck. Two of those hulking machines are clanking down the street, their heavy legs carrying them in long strides. They slow as they draw closer to the camouflaged group, their square-shaped bodies turning to regard their surroundings.

It’s clear that they don’t ‘see’ the group--not exactly. The interference to their sensors and lack of visual feedback mean that the machines are likely working only off the ambient magic in the area. It’s enough to draw suspicion though, in whatever algorithms the things run on. They begin to circle, drawing slowly closer, the weapons mounted on their exterior rotating and scanning for targets.
“If we take them out quick we could make a run for it. They might not even be able to put out a signal.” Garnier suggests, the boy casting a glance toward his companions. Aiya nods in agreement, while Holst makes a grunt that could be taken as assent.

“Hard and fast,” Aiya repeats, “Can you girls oblige?”

The drones draw closer still, illuminated bright by an arc of lightning that cuts close across the sky. Their metallic green hides are clearly visible now, armor plated and lined with blinking lights. A different beast entirely than the alien Voids, but still formidable.

Secundi Lux

Rivka

Rivka’s partner, the brown haired girl, allows a relieved smile to touch at the corners of her lips when the Ars Magi accepts her offer. Her own hands find their appropriate place, awkwardly at first, but once they settle she seems somewhat more at ease.

“Amalee.” She replies, adding after, “Amalee Kraus. From Hasta.” As the two move into the crowd, led by Rivka’s slow steps, it soon becomes apparent that Amalee knows what she’s doing. After the initial hesitance her feet move with practiced grace, no fear of tripping or getting tangled up with Rivka’s patient motion. Even when the music starts to move faster the girl is sure and steady.

It’s probably not too surprising that she knows what she’s doing. It’s probably less than surprising: Most of the Officer’s Academy is made up of the privileged, and while not all bear noble name most come from wealth. Enough wealth to spend on tutelage in the classical arts, among other things. Rivka’s keen eye can no doubt pick out the fact that most of the Officer’s cadets move with a modicum of grace. Enough not to embarrass themselves.

It takes Amalee a bit longer to warm up to further conversation, but she manages after a few slow rotations: “I didn’t know you were an Ars Magi, I was surprised.” She says, continuing, “Where did you learn to play? They don’t teach you that at Nova Lux, do they?”

She hesitates briefly, before asking: “That’s not part of the magic, is it?”

Selma & Chie

Selma and Chie’s spirals match and mirror the other dancers, a sea of slowly rotating bodies as the music begins to lull. The last few notes taper out as the dance comes not to a close, but to an interlude. Bows and curtsies are exchanged between partners, some parting, some lingering in each other’s orbit and waiting for the music to call once more.

The two Ars Magi, the green giant and her more diminutive partner, find that the bubble of their personal space, like many others, has become more fluid. As dancers begin to mix and mingle new figures materialize from the crowd. They’re not any of the familiar shapes Selma’s seen flowing past, not any of her fellow Ars Magi, but people entirely new.

The two young officers are a study in contrast; one tall and dark, the other ivory-skinned and almond-eyed. It’s the latter that’s the first to speak, reaching out to draw Selma’s attention with a touch to her bicep. He’s a handsome boy—some might even say pretty--, dark hair half-obscuring his eyes and an easy smile on his lips.

“Excuse me,” He begins, “As a member of the Officer’s Academy, I have to make a formal complaint. It’s not fair for the prettiest Ars Magi to only dance with each other.”

He requests, with a gamely extended hand: “Could we persuade you to trade partners, for just one dance?”

Crystal

“Excellent! I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. You’re a very important part of our future, you know.” Crystal’s reply seems satisfactory, and Castra nods enthusiastically.

“Myself? Oh, fine, fine. Traveled all the way here to see all of the cadets and handle some business. I do enjoy the festivities.” The man smiles, a pleasant laugh escaping his lips as he sinks down into a seat at the table. It does not bode well for Crystal getting any sort of reprieve anytime soon.

“The politicians are talking politics, and the military men about the military. You know how it goes. And something about machines—some new kind of Void-killer weapons from Juno. Supposed to be completely automated, can you believe that? I’ll believe it when I see it.” The man huffs, continuing, “After all, only one thing’s proven to work so far.” A knowing glance is cast at Crystal, indicating that she is, in fact, the thing.

He changes tack a moment later, after a sip from the glass of wine that he’s carried over with him. “Why aren’t you out dancing? It looks like all of your friends are out there. Do you need a partner?” A moment of thought and the man snap his fingers. “You know, my nephew is attending the Academy as well, I can introduce you. He’s around here somewhere...”

The man cranes his neck, turning in his chair to scan the dance floor.

Nova Lux: A Magical Girl Game

In the distance, over the static hiss of rain, the sound of metal and debris crunching underfoot of the patrolling machines can be heard. Two pass by the distant perimeter, red and blue lights flickering at the tops of the prong-like heads that protrude from the sentries boxy bodies.

“Magitech machine guns.” Answers Garnier to Dana’s question. “Missiles as well, it looks like. Considering the size of those things, you probably don’t want to get stepped on either.”

Lightning lances in the distant sky, flickering and leaving a vivid afterimage in its wake.

“Excellent plan, dolcezza.” Supplies Aiya, the dark-haired girl’s lips curling into a cat-like smile at Noel’s suggestion. She nods at Vanna after before noting: “Just tell us what support you need—our show starts once we get to our building.”

The other two officers seem to be in agreement, as they offer no suggestion or objection of their own. Holst, the blonde girl, does step up to Dana’s side and note: “I can spot for you.” She indicates the pair of binoculars she carries.

Garnier, on the other hand, gets majority of the officer’s equipment. It looks like a fairly heavy load, meaning he won’t be moving very fast if pressed.

“We’ll move when you give the word.” Says Aiya. “After you.”

Secundi Lux

The marbled floor in front of the small band is slowly filling with bodies; the brave first, and then the rest after. The dancers vary in performance, their skill levels ranging from clear classical training to those who get by only with simple, awkward swaying. The officers from the neighboring academy make up most of the crowd, the Nova Lux cadets smaller in number but high in demand. Amidst the cadets are the occasional dignitary or individual of importance, though the full-fledged Ars Magi in attendance remain off to the sides.

As Rivka sets out toward the sea of dancers she quickly finds that she is missing one crucial element to the waltz: a partner. This, however, is soon rectified by a gentle tap on the purple-haired girl’s shoulder as she draws nearer to the edge of the dancefloor.

“Excuse me.” From behind emerges a girl, one of the cadets from the Officer’s Academy judging by her uniform. She’s plus tie, unlike Rivka. Her hair and eyes are brown, the former a voluminous bob and the latter framed by freckled and pale skin. “You played at the Victoria the other night, didn’t you?” She refers to the establishments downtown, one of the few that allowed Rivka entrance and permission to perform a set on stage.

“You were very good. You would mind if—I mean, are you looking for a partner? To dance?” She extends a hand after her stumbling question, adding: “I need a partner.” Her demeanor indicates her nervousness, as does the subtle shake of her neatly manicured hand.

Aoife finds a partner quickly enough among the sea of dancers, an easy task given the privilege of having an Ars Magi on ones arm.

The problem is that she doesn’t tend to keep them for very long. There’s a lot of stumbling around and stepping on feet, and one partner leads to another, and another, each polite hand-off coming at the end of a poorly performed spin. She ends up, after several trades, in the arms of her former teammate: one Noel Nilsson, who is almost as bad of a dancer as Aoife.

“Hey babe.” Says her former partner, between bouts of swaying. “How’s the new team? Settling in okay? I’m getting a reassignment for the next exercise too, they said. It’s going to involve robots, did you know? The last guy I was dancing with was talking about it. Maybe we’ll get to work together again, that’d be fun, right?”

Back at the table containing the other three, Selma and Chie are able to begin making their way toward the dance floor. Crystal, however, does not quite get a chance to make her escape before she’s accosted by a cry of: “Little Crystal Caelestis, is that you?”

From amidst the tables comes an older man, perhaps in his sixties, mocha-skinned and mustachioed. Crystal recognizes him as Siervo Castra Neptune, a diplomatic, frequent visitor to her home, and friend of her father. Growing up she’s born witness to his visits often enough, most of which were preceded by important (and boring) political discussion that she was less privy to.

“How have you been? I heard you went away to Nova Lux, but I wasn’t sure I’d see you. I remember when you were just this high.” His hand is raised accordingly, to demonstrate the recalled shortness. “Now you’re an Ars Magi! How are you finding the academy? Are they treating you well? Have you been enjoying your time in Palmyra?”

Secundi Lux

The next week continues on pleasantly, if uneventfully. Lessons at the academy continue briskly, both in the classroom and physical exercise outside of it. Each of the cadets has a chance to practice their newfound abilities in less stressful circumstances than before, supervised by Nova Lux’s instructors and Ars Magi.

As the days tick past and the Ball grows nearer a muted sense of excitement begins to take hold amidst the students. For most this will be the first time attending a formal event, not to mention getting to rub shoulders with important dignitaries and members of the Duodecim. There will even be several Ars Magi in attendance, both from Palmyra’s own defense force and visitors from foreign cities.

Uniforms are cleaned and pressed in anticipation, instructions from the faculty are handed out, and then, soon enough, it’s time.

---

𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚊 𝙻𝚞𝚡 𝙰𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚢
Grand Hall
𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟷𝟺𝚝𝚑， 𝟷𝟷𝟽 𝙰𝚅
𝟾:𝟶𝟶 𝙿𝙼
Masuzu Chie, Crystal von Caelestis, Rivka Sokolov, Selma Rosmarie, Aoife Strumgaard

---

| Music: Noble Mind |

The central hall of Nova Lux is a sprawling rectangular chamber, its vaulted ceilings and enormous windows adding to an already impressive sense of scale. From its walls and ceiling hang blue and gold flags bearing the academies emblems, these banners now interspersed with others marked by Imperium and Duodecium iconography. Enormous golden light fixtures shine down on the marbled floors below, illuminating the crowd of cadets, faculty, and honored visitors that have gathered this evening.

To the disappointment of those expecting gowns and high fashion, the ball is a military affair, and the students of Nova Lux are dressed accordingly. Cadets mingle in their dress uniforms, familiar faces dressed in crisp blues and golds.

The new faces are from the Officers Academy, the gleaming structure on the opposite side of Nova Lux’s lush gardens. Young men and women dressed in their own uniforms, similar but slightly different than those of the assembled Ars Magi. In contract to the cadets from Nova Lux, most of the officers are probably used to such affairs; many come from noble or important families, having gained entrance via wealth or status rather than largely non-existent magical ability.

The rest of the guests, excluding faculty, are dressed in civilian formal wear. Most of the Duodecim have at least one family representative in attendance, even those from hailing from the far-away cities to the west. There are several high-up members of the Imperium as well, along with their stern-faced Ars Magi escorts.

The whole thing exudes an air of pomp and ceremony, from the bombastic opening speeches to the twenty minutes or so devoted to running down the line of important people, shaking hands, and making clipped greetings. It’s almost an hour in before anyone is allowed to leave the long rows of tables that have been assembled on one side of the room, each assigned to a different team of cadets.

Selma, Chie, Aoife, Rivka, and Crystal, now an official team, are all seated at the same table. There’s not much time for conversation at first, until speeches begin to wind down and dinner, a light fair accompanied by a mild wine, is served.

Afterward the guests are finally released from their seats and allowed to begin mingling. The hall begins to fill with bodies and conversation, the noise soon joined by the sound of a stately waltz played from a grand piano near the front of the hall.