Chapter Text
Riftfall Mavens: Transitional Gear
Chapter 1
Welcome to Riftfall Academy
Location: Pulcrita, Pontilius
It might have been melodramatic to slip out his bedroom window exactly at the stroke of midnight, but Jonathan Parelock was a Pontilian at heart; poetic melodrama was his culture. His father had told him that by the next day there would be no more of his 'petty selfish outbursts' or else there would be consequences.
Well, here Jonathan was hanging by his bedroom window: being petty, and providing consequences.
He glanced down at the ground, gauging the distance. Using a magear this close to the house was too risky, but so was falling wrong and hurting himself. Then Jonathan decided it didn't matter; if hurting or breaking a leg got him down, he'd crawl away afterward if he had to.
It was a painful drop, and he felt it in his shins; running was certainly not going to be an activity for the next few days. That suited Jonathan just fine. The locomotive that he was boarding had a long journey ahead of it anyway.
There was only one courtyard guard posted that night, and he certainly wouldn't be reporting the only son running away from his intolerable father. Securing the guard's escape hadn't even been difficult: all Jonathan had to do was use his own allowance to give the man the bonus his father had denied him. Broken teeth, he'd given the guard twice the amount for his trouble. And as Jonathan half walked, half limped by, the bag containing all of his new life tucked under one arm, the guard simply handed him a bottle in response.
"For the pain, sir."
Jonathan examined the bottle's label—malt whiskey—before using the bottle to salute the guard in return.
Jonathan passed through his childhood prison's front gate untouched. As he stepped into the street, he turned back to the guard with outstretched arms.
"Take care, Avery. I hope your daughter loves the birthday present you wanted to buy her, and I hope to never see you again."
"May that locomotive take you far, far from here,"
One final mock salute and Jonathan turned away, casually escaping from his father at the speed of unbothered delight.
Step one of Jonathan's plan, complete. It had scarcely been a step at all—he had been edging closer and closer to taking it since the day he could plan. Farewell, Father! Everything Jonathan had learned from him had been a result of ironic failure. Jonathan would not become a squabbling bureaucrat like his father wanted, but a maven studying magear. He would not scrape for political standing in Pontilius, but seek a life and adventure abroad in Riftfall.
He would not become a cold and wretched man like his father, but one different in every possible way.
Positioned artistically along the street, one of the great structural magears that kept Pulcrita running was half submerged in a canal. Dozens of beautifully made interconnecting gears spun in the same eye-catching revolutions that they had since it was installed. A particularly large gear moved in graceful perpetuity, a sign of artistic efficiency connected to the magear's core. Jonathan turned to admire the artistic and mechanical brilliance as he walked by.
Bureaucracy was a boring perpetual nightmare, but engineering magears? The possibilities were endless. Why fiddle with meaningless numbers and social politicking when he could experiment with arcanic and go on adventures far beyond his imagination? It was magear that ran the world, not cold hearted arithmetic.
Jonathan would become a maven, despite what his father thought of the craft or his son. Another step separating him from the shadow that had tried to puppeteer his life .
No, Jonathan would not be coming back to Pulcrita so long as his father was here.
If there was any aspect of Pulcrita he might miss, it was his estranged friend, Kaylan Tourmaline. But, Jonathan had already been forcibly separated from her for two years now: his father disapproved and saw the Tourmaline family as too low class. And ironically once more, Jonathan had lost the one thread that might have kept him here.
As Jonathan strolled down the street, his footsteps were initially only kept company by the sounds of the city's magears. But the further he strode from his prison, the more other footsteps joined the nightly sounds. Voices in the midnight bazaar, the occasional wheels and gears of a magear carriage, the sound of a locomotives engine promising freedom. The limp in Jonathan's stride faded and a smile crossed his features as he joined the bustle of Pulcrita's nightlife.
With each step, the doomed life under his father's thumb felt less and less real; in contrast, the locomotive ticket and acceptance letter in his coat pocket burned hotter and hotter. Despite everything his father had tried, Jonathan had learned enough about magear to get himself an offer to enroll in the Riftfall Academy of Magear Engineering. It had come at a most needed time, when Jonathan had been on the verge of giving up.
Ahead, an intercity rail cart drifted ahead on its track, an ever constant coordinated dance of open aired passenger cars ferrying the city's less noble across Pulcrita. Jonathan's father had forbidden him from riding one and mingling with 'his lessers'.
He dashed a few steps and hopped aboard, hanging off the handrail. Jonathan would spite his father one additional time.
The rail cart's tracks directed it to pass by the entrance to the locomotive platforms; Jonathan and several others hopped off and headed in.
Jonathan's smile was massive now, a direct contradiction to everything he was ever taught to display in public. Quite frankly, he'd never felt so alive. Excitedly he cast his gaze looking for the locomotive that would carry him away.
There.
He took the sky bridge to the correct platform, enjoying the opportunity to admire the locomotives from a new perspective. Their magear engines were not as… elegant, as Pontilian magear, but their power and rugged durability were just as worthy of admiration. He could not wait to become a maven and construct magear just as admirable.
It was without fanfare that Jonathan's ticket was accepted by the locomotive's conductor. He was given a brief look over—bright smile on his face, travel coat on his frame, bag tucked under one arm—and then allowed aboard.
"You'll be in compartment three for the trip, sir."
"Thank you, sir. Is alcohol allowed aboard?"
He made sure to display a Pontilian appropriate level of politeness in his speech, if not his expression.
"Yes, but it cannot be consumed unless purchased from the cantina."
Jonathan nodded his understanding. The bottle of malt whiskey could wait until he was in Riftfall then; a celebration instead of a salve.
"Thank you for the notice."
"Of course. We will be departing in ten minutes. Have a pleasant night."
It did not take Jonathan long to find an empty seat. He placed his bag next to himself and breathed half a sigh of relief.
Step two complete. Now to pray that he had not been discovered, that any minute Jonathan's father would not clamp down on his arm and drag him off the locomotive.
The ten minutes passed.
The conductor gave the final warning.
The locomotive's magear spun and churned.
Step three, complete.
Jonathan's relief was matched only by his joy. Finally, he had managed to secure a life away from his father, pursuing a plan of his making. He listed out the remaining steps in his head.
Arrive in Altium, Riftfall. Find the Riftfall Academy of Magear Engineering. Study. Graduate. Apply to be a maven. Live happily ever after.
Three steps down. Six to go. Jonathan Parelock could not wait.
Location: Riftfall Locomotive Lines, just outside Altium
Three days in a seat had dimmed Jonathan's excitement, but not his optimism and expectations. He read both his acceptance letter and the one textbook he'd managed to bring with him over and over again. One hand often found its way into his bag to rest on the prized possession within.
Any aspiring maven wouldn't be caught without a magear on their own. And Jonathan definitely had one: that same most prized possession that was stored away in his bag. A smile crept over his face as he peered out the window. Outside the window, Jonathan could see region of Riftfall.
He glanced down at the magear-enforced tracks that were suspended above the continental chasm's bottom, leading the train around the multitude of floating landmasses that were supported by the region's high amounts of arcanic. One broken rail, one failure of the magears providing support, and the train would plummet hundreds of feet to the chasm's bottom. That was probably why, he suspected, their magear were so less elegant and so much more rugged. They were workhouses with all focus on utility over aesthetic, a new method of construction to Jonathan's eyes.
New methods of construction, of utilizing magear—he could not wait to begin his education and learn those methods for him. And he soon would.
Because just ahead, the city of Altium rose up on the largest floating landmass Jonathan had seen.
It was massive, Jonathan considered lamely, as the train tracks led onto its landmass. He would not be surprised to discover it was even larger than Pulcrita; after all it was the largest city state in the Riftfall region. And Jonathan knew practically nothing of it. There was so much to see, on his own terms and free from his father's shadow. A destiny of his own awaited him.
The Riftfall Academy for Magear Engineering, the only landmark in Altium Jonathan knew, was built here. His next step. Find the Academy.
Jonathan strolled off the train and found himself in a city that was so wholly unlike Pulcrita, that he was thrilled. His smile extended as he slipped away from the train station and into the streets. There were so many magear in the city he wasn't used to seeing. Part of his smile fell away as dust was kicked up and blew into his face; Altrium was dirtier than he was used to, too.
Bit by bit he made his way from the train station to the Academy, occasionally stopping to ask directions. Before midday he'd made it, with his bag still safely tucked under one arm. Confidently he marched into the campus and toward the main building, fishing out his acceptance letter as he went. Several other students stared curiously at him; Jonathan didn't pay them much mind. Perhaps, being a Pontilian in the more rugged, less elegant Altrium was that much of a rarity.
A secretary was there at the reception desk when Jonathan entered. She looked up, and then started at the sight of him. This, Jonathan did note more seriously. But, he had his social courtesies to mind.
"Apologies. I did not mean to startle you."
"Apology accepted. I just didn't expect to see—what may I help you with, sir?"
At that, Johnathan held out his acceptance letter with a pleased smile as though he was closing a deal.
"I'm a new student here. I wanted to check in, receive my syllabus,"and be shown to my room."
A frown was not the response he was expecting. The secretary took his acceptance letter slowly, as though she expected a trick. Carefully, Jonathan kept his smile despite his own concerns. Was there, possibly, a second Riftfall Academy for Magear Engineering?
"And you're Mister Jonathan Parelock?"
"I am. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"That is… I don't have a clue how… please, let me call the headmistress."
Finally Jonathan's smile succumbed to his own concern. Had his father gotten the last laugh in? Called ahead and pulled strings to foil his escape at the last minute? Jonathan had been sure he'd kept it hidden from his father. And surely his father couldn't have had strings out here; going all the way to Riftfall was the whole point. If Riftfall wasn't far enough then where was? Shattershock? Balormond? Catamite? How far would Jonathan have to flee for his own freedom?
"Mister Parelock? Are you still with me?"
"Yes, yes I am. My apologies, miss. I was lost in thought."
Jonathan had the self awareness to feel meek for ignoring the secretary. She rested her hands on her desk, keeping his acceptance letter pinned.
"Mister Parelock, you signed up for Riftfall Academy?"
"Indeed, I did, miss. It was my top choice, after examining all my options."
That wasn't a lie. Jonathan was here to become a maven. He was here to escape his father. The goals were not exclusive to themselves.
"Is there something wrong with my acceptance letter, perhaps? I was told it would suffice."
Something baffled came across in the secretary's expression as she looked at him. One hand lay on his bag, holding his magear through the canvas. The other gripped and released the hem of his jacket, over and over. Something must have given in her expression, because she decided to assuage him.
"There was nothing wrong with your acceptance letter itself, more… how do I put this politely…"
Jonathan held his breath, expecting the worst. The secretary sighed.
"Were you aware that Riftfall Academy for Magear Engineering is an all-girls academy?"
"…Could—Could you repeat that?"