The Paradise Gate

Ch.4 Scraps

"Out of the way!"

This bellowed command was accompanied by animal snarls as it reverberated from the limestone surfaces of an arcade full of students at the Academy of Na'Roscalen.

A tall, distinguished-looking gentleman of middling years strode purposefully down the hall, the black robes of a college Don billowing behind him where they'd been left open at the front to show a well-cut grey suit to advantage. The black waistcoat beneath did not pull against his trim waistline as it would have done on most of his peers, and his features would have been handsome if his mien were less intense.

Wavy, dark brown hair was just starting to streak with white at the temples, though the stubble on his jawline was still dark, and a red silk pocket square was the only spot of color he wore as he barreled down the hallways of that august institution.

Helping to clear the path of milling students before him, a brilliantly white-furred creature was the source of all the snarling that echoed from the archways of the arcade.

It moved like a jungle primate, its knuckles acting as a second set of feet, though it was equipped with opposable thumbs on its clawed hands. The tail of a lion trailed proudly behind it with a hooked barb protruding from its tip while a ruff of long, white fur tapered off to a point at the creature's belly.

Its teeth were nearly as white as its pelt, and long canines were visible as it snarled. Impressive as they were, though, its most arresting trait was its eyes; these glowed a deep, carnelian red to match the man's pocket square.

This was Naemonix, daemon to the Right Honourable Allister Esterbrook, Earl of Warrick, Academy Don, Master of the Department of Aethral Harmonics, and next in line for the chairmanship of the Society of Aethral Scientists.

Allister was doing his best to lengthen his brisk stride while maintaining his dignity. This was one meeting for which he did not want to be late.

Students and professors alike hurried out of his way or turned to stare as he and his growling companion passed. The eyes upon him held a mix of admiration, jealousy, and awe.

Allister's was an unusual career in the world of academia; he'd only come to his field less than a decade ago, yet his accomplishments were already legendary and he was still seen as a rising star.

He enjoyed the spotlight after a life spent paying in social currency for his father's decisions. The previous Earl of Warrick had inherited a large but destitute domain and was forced to turn his own hand to trade. This was simply not done among highborn families; they might have assets that earned, but they did not lower themselves to starting or— Creator forbid— running a company, themselves.

However, under the looming specter of debtor's prison, the last earl had been one of the first and only aristocrats to see opportunity in the rise of the merchant class that had come with the last century's advances in aethral technology.

The discovery that aethral crystal could be used as a source of non-deteriorating fuel had led to the development of the airships that enabled far more efficient trade with the countries of the North. This had created an economic boom for those involved in commerce.

Allister's father had invested heavily in shipping concerns, and it paid off enormously in coin, but it had cost them just as dearly in social caché. From a once elite house, by the time of Alistair's inheritance, he was very wealthy and very much a joke that produced the sort of laughter hidden behind white-gloved hands at society events.

Once through the throng of admiring eyes, Allister reached the stairwell that would take him to his office in one of the elegant spires of the Academy's ancient buildings that was currently dedicated to the Department of Aethral Harmonics. Normally, he'd enjoy the thrill of satisfaction it gave him to climb those stairs, but today he was almost tempted to take them two at a time.