Ar'Kendrithyst

Chapter 75, 1/2

“I have some questions,” Erick said, sipping his cup of coftea in his chair next to the gardens of Windy Manor.

“I have some as well,” the Headmaster said, wearing white and gold, sipping coftea in the chair across the table from Erick.

The doctors released Erick from the hospital with a clean bill of health hours ago. He had gone back to the dungeon for a little while longer, but soon enough, it was time to rain at the farms of Spur. When he came back to the Manor, Poi informed him that the Headmaster was requesting his time for a talk.

Erick sent everyone else into the house, under the [Prismatic Ward], either to get dinner ready if they wanted, but mainly to get out of the way. If this conversation did not go well he didn’t want them involved. That was a hard sell for Poi and Teressa, but they accepted Erick’s demand. Kiri just stood quietly in the background, looking less than happy about everything.

He summoned up a table and chairs near the garden, while channeling mana through Ophiel to Spur. He sat down in one of those chairs and opened Hocnihai’s third tome for some light, heavy reading, while he waited for the Headmaster to show. The wind blew cool and full of moisture, while waves crashed far below and the sun tilted down in the west, across the ocean. Sunset would happen in an hour. It was good reading weather. Teressa came out of the house with a large pot of coftea and two mugs. Erick thanked her as she set them down on the table. She lingered for a moment, watching Erick, but saying nothing. Erick just nodded. Teressa went back into the house.

Erick waited.

He did not wait long. As the Headmaster appeared in a blip of gold, he flicked a brief spell through the air. A completely clear bubble surrounded him, Erick, Ophiel on Erick’s lap, and the garden furniture. Ophiel twittered in unhappy flutes as the sounds of the crashing ocean down the cliffside vanished, and the gentle wind that blew across the yard ceased, but at Erick’s gentle command, Ophiel settled back down on his lap. Erick continued to channel mana through him as he set Hocnihai's book aside, onto the table.

There were some initial pleasantries. One was of Erick not wanting to get up and disturb his [Familiar]. Another was of the Headmaster glad to see that Erick had recovered from his recent trouble. Erick offered coftea; the Headmaster accepted. Erick poured him a mug with the perfect control of his Handy Aura.

Strictly speaking, using spells unprompted around other people like both the Headmaster and Erick had done, was a faux pas that ranged from being simply discourteous or maybe rude, to insulting or an act of war, or just plain antagonistic. For most of Erick’s time on Veird, he had been slightly rude without really meaning to be rude. Right now, Erick was deliberately rude, because he had a really good idea about how Messalina had been able to get to him on Oceanside, when this place was both crawling with competent Elites and flying cream-colored Robes that should have been able to see everything that happened, everywhere.

Erick began, “My first question is, if you used me for some sort of bait to track through to Messalina, did it work?” He added, “And did you already scan my recent memories, in order to see what I saw when she contacted me?”

The Headmaster sipped his coftea. He lowered the mug, and said, “We used you as bait. We could not find her. She had moved on too fast. And yes; I already know what she told you.”

“Did you really kill your kids?”

The Headmaster looked off into the distance, toward the horizon where sky met sea and the sun dipped low. With a stern, sad face, he said, “They were not my children. They were copies. Perfect copies, but still copies nonetheless. For a time, I was confused upon seeing her work. It took me a century of searching out every necromancer I had ever held in confidence in order to divine an unhappy truth: that those were not my children, and I am confident in my results. I might be Second, and I might have access to almost all magic, but I am not Rozeta.” He said, “Messalina makes copies, Erick. Perfect copies that don’t realize they are copies. She can even use the former soul to create these copies. In her mind, this means she has the power of True Resurrection.”

Silence stretched, as Erick thought. Eventually, he asked, “Is the soul a permanent thing that does not grow or ever change?”

“The soul both grows and changes, but that does not matter when speaking of wholly replacing that essential part of the Self.” The Headmaster said, “If you are thinking of the Parable of the House, then you are entering into a very large debate, of which there is only one side to choose if you wish to remain sane.”

“I read about that. On Earth, we call that the Ship of Theseus problem. At which point over the life of a vessel, where rows and sails and mast and planks are replaced as necessary, is the ship that left the dock, the same ship that came in?” Erick said, “We never had to deal with actual resurrection, though.” He added, “People were talking about uploading minds into computers when I fell to Veird. They were imagining it as a second life, where the mind continued to live on after the death of the body.”

The Headmaster frowned a little, thinking. He said, “That seems like creating a slave caste to do your electronical bidding for you.”

Erick smiled, despite the situation. He said, “Sorry. I think I might have explained computers poorly. That is my fault. They were used to make our lives easier, yes. But...” He said, “The rich people were talking of putting their minds into computers so that when their bodies died, they could direct their holdings after death.”

“Ah.” The Headmaster said, “This is closer to the real problem of True Resurrection.” He said, “We immortals strive to keep out of much of mortal life, for it would be easy for the wrong kind of person to control everything, forever. Power supports power, after all.” He said, “So people like me help when we can, but mostly we stay out of most of the world’s problems. Mostly, we see to it that other immortals toe the line of non-interference. People are best when they are free to thrive and live their lives on their own, after all.” He said, “Hence, True Resurrection does not work.”

“Politics, then?”

“For those in the know, and in the workings of the world: yes. And I will deny ever having said that.” He added, “But personally, I do not believe that copies are the real thing, so it is easier for me to fight this particular fight than others who merely support the cause.”

“Does Phagar not care?”

“Phagar cares deeply, but he stays out of this particular battle. If he were to take a stance against resurrection, it would give the Resurrectionists legitimacy, for it would mean that their idea of True Resurrection is real. If he stood with them, it would cause the rise of this horrible magic, all across Veird, and go against everything he represents as the God of Finality. And so Phagar stays away, because sometimes that is the best choice, and the rest of the gods try to not be tyrants by stepping into an ideological mortal war. Even Sumtir will not support total war.” He added, “All the tyrant gods died in the Sundering.”

Erick nodded. He would ask Phagar about all of that later, but it was interesting to know that the reason he hadn’t seen any ‘evil’ gods, besides maybe Melemizargo, was that all the evil gods were dead. This was obviously the Headmaster throwing him off course of his questions, but sometimes facts were best supplied through meandering words, and it seemed that this particular conversation was very difficult for the old dragon. He spoke calmly and clearly, but he held his shoulders tight, and his eyes were solidly stuck on the horizon.

Erick asked, “Was that the point of the Sundering? To kill the evil gods?”

“It is one theory. Personally, I think someone tried to take the power of a god, and they catastrophically failed.” The Headmaster said, “I don’t really know why the Old Wizards did what they did, but I do know why Veird survived. It was quite a simple reason, too. When the universe was unraveling, many of the original Relevant Entities of the Script were naturally pulled here to Veird because their original worlds were killed, and their only surviving believers were in chapterhouses on Veird, or in one case, a Champion, who was visiting Veird to find assistance for some quest.” He looked away from the sun, to Erick, saying, “You must understand that Veird was a sanctuary for the light, after all. Koyabez’s human and alvani clergy were the powerhouses on Veird back then, back when this world was much smaller, and wholly devoted to peaceful solutions. They had been around for twenty thousand years or more by the time of the Sundering, and though Veird had been assaulted countless times by almost every powerhouse in the Old Cosmology, they had never fallen. Their defenses were simply the best of the best.”

The Headmaster finished speaking, but Erick did not ask another question. He just listened, giving the Headmaster a chance to speak in whatever direction he wanted, or to ask his own questions.

The Headmaster stared into the distance, controlling his posture perfectly, like he was holding in a lot of pain, as he said, “I did not adjust your spell. I did not adjust hers either. She says that her children were her turning point, but that was untrue. She never forgave me for holding back her spell for thirty seconds. Everything fell apart from there.” He said, “I should have learned my lesson years ago but my curiosity got the better of me, as it has from time to time. I… I apologize, for touching your spell.”

“If you are a Registrar, you know I have a way to check on this, directly.”

“I know.” He relaxed, saying, “And you should learn to hide your ability to flaunt the powers of others. It would do you well in your further goals.”

“If you’re going to kill me, I would rather just get it over with.”

“Taunting dragons is a foolish thing to do.”

“So is killing your kids.”

The Headmaster frowned. He refilled his coftea. He spoke plainly, and almost-forcefully, “I did not kill them. Messalina created copies and raised them to hate me. I asked for a meeting. They accepted. I made myself vulnerable, and they took advantage. Her plan was to kill me and pull my soul apart in order to create a dragonless-copy. The three of them would have succeeded if they were going up against the image of ‘The Headmaster’ that Messalina had taught her copies, but they were completely unprepared for the real thing. Messalina managed to get away, but the children were completely unmatched for a fight between a dragon of the highest tier, and the Second.”

Erick digested that information for a moment, as silence held in the clear dome of their little meeting.

Erick said, “You should help her find these killers.”

The Headmaster relaxed. “That would be the most prudent thing to do, but I cannot. I still love her, and I cannot get close; not ever again.” Benevolent hatred took hold of his voice, as he said, “She is as toxic as her hydras, and I would live to die in that mire until something broke, and a hundred thousand more people died in the crossfire.”

The Headmaster’s words hung heavy in the air.

Erick said, “I don’t want to be involved in this sort of thing.”

The Headmaster smirked. “If you wish to kill the Shades, you will need to be involved in many scenarios like this.” He added, “I will say this, though: If you choose to support Messalina, you might be able to wring a binding bargain out of her, and she would be much more willing to move against those Dark monsters than I. You could cut your plots down to years, instead of decades.”

Erick said, “I don’t think it’s going to take quite that long to get all my spells in a row.”

“You miscalculated the light dungeon.”

“You implicated it would take 5 days.”

He added, “You could have it done that fast. Just string together some Plus-100 Focus crown. Plus 200, if you must, though that might take some more of that experimenting you seem to think we don’t do.”

“Were you expecting me to do that? To lower my defenses on Oceanside?”

“Vaguely.” The Headmaster spoke at a quick pace, “We were watching you the whole time, trying to respect your privacy, but also watching for her attack. This worming might have happened sooner if you had gotten rid of your Strength enchantments.” The Headmaster said, “This is a very complicated topic with many edge cases, but broadly, Health is a natural barrier to all directly hostile magic, in a way that is much more solid than a [Personal Ward]. You can’t conjure knives inside of a target, after all. All magic works from the outside toward the inside. It did not used to be like this, but the Script changed that.”

Erick frowned in thought. You couldn’t conjure a magic inside of a person? Well that tracked with everything Erick had ever seen… hadn’t it?

The Headmaster noticed Erick’s thinking. He asked, “Did you not know this?”

“No.” Erick said, “I can’t think of anything false about that statement, but I also never thought to try and make such a spell, either.”

The Headmaster frowned in disbelief. Then he relaxed, and said, “Almost all young mages try to make such a bypassing spell, but that experience usually teaches them their lesson in the form of an Error. This barrier of Health is a fact that is rather self evident, so I can see where your lessons might not have touched upon the subject.” He added, “We don’t teach a great many of the small things that most people would just pick up through natural experience.”

Erick nodded, and listened.

“Back to parasites.” The Headmaster said, “Parasites are affected by this barrier, and they start from the outside, just like any physical weapon. And just like any physical weapon, they have an easier time slipping through that barrier when that barrier is less robust. Calzin acquired parasites in his feet from those Parasite Roaches from his time walking around on the mountainside, but you did not, and neither did your guard. This was not because you did not step on them; you must have. They were everywhere. But your increased Health protected you.

“Because of this, Messalina needed a larger opening than most since she couldn’t just put them in your house on your pillows anymore while your defenses were down. She had to wait for you to eat one in those sandwiches Calzin brought you.” The Headmaster said, “He was infected by a dream worm, too, but so were five other people. One of our own Mind Mages kept Poi partially blind, while we waited for her to bypass all your defenses and make the real connection.” He added, “But none of it worked.”

Erick sighed out, staring at the setting sun. He said, “What about her implications against Caradogh?”

“He’s in the wind. Near as we can tell, she alerted him right before speaking to you, knowing that I would see what she said. She likely has some use for him, otherwise she would have let him hang.”

“… Did you find the people who stole the diamonds?”

The Headmaster chortled. “I think Messalina stole them.”

Erick scrunched his face. “How? Why?”

“She likes shiny things,” The Headmaster said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. He added, “She got them in the same way that she plants her Dream Worms, and how she does almost everything outside of her immediate domain; those pixies. They’re her devoted servants. They’re a race she created in the shape of an extinct Fey in order to have the perfect spies at her beck and call. Only a few of them are actually a part of her people; she did actually manage to recreate an extinct race, after all. Most of them have their own societies down in the jungles of Nergal.

“They almost always take [Blink], [Teleport], Scion of Focus, [Airshape], [Lightshape] for the partial invisibility effect, and a host of other tiny spells. They’re also slightly telepathic, but only enough to hide from Mind Mages.” He added, “The only way to see them is when they want to be seen, or when you have Mana Sense up and focused. Even then, you might not see them even if they’re floating right in front of your face.” He added, “Or… they could have stolen those diamonds on their own, just to taunt me. They honestly love her; they’re not slaves.” He said, “For all of Messalina’s faults, she does not mind control or soulshift people who do not ask for it. The only mind tampering she does at all is to spread her dream worms against her enemies to sow discord and cause distractions. If it weren’t for her flagrant disregard for the sanctity of life and how much she throws her magic around to whomever can offer her a fair payment… I could even respect her.”

Erick said, “You’re being rather open about this. I expected a lot more anger from you.”

“I do tend to give off that persona.” The Headmaster said, “But Messalina has a way of turning people against me. I do not want that to happen, here, with you. You are a fine person, Erick Flatt, but you make mistakes, like anyone, so if I must spell this out, then I will.” He turned to face Erick, and said, “If you choose her you will lose the world, because I will use all of my vast resources to ensure that Messalina never again comes to power. You will become an outcast with a temperamental witch at your side and no one else.” He added, “I will not move to kill you or anyone you hold dear, for I have no doubt that Messalina is waiting to resurrect you or anyone else at a moment’s notice and fill your copy’s mind with lies, and I do not want to sunder your soul just to deny her a victory; it is too cruel. But if you thought Caradogh was bad, then you do not know what it means to be threatened by someone with real, true power.”

Erick said, “That’s more what I was expecting.”

The Headmaster looked at him, with calm eyes, full of sunset light. Erick felt a chill race down his spine, as sweat prickled at the back of his neck. The mug of coftea in his hands was the warmest thing in the world, but even that was turning cold, because the Second was practically a demi-god, and he was staring at Erick like he was a morsel waiting to be devoured.

The moment broke.

The Headmaster said, “I am fine with you making this spell she wants, but this is a dangerous thing to be able to find someone through [Polymorph]. No one has ever managed to do such a thing before. There is a Class called Sin Seeker that is able to discover the truth of a person no matter their disguise, but they need to be in physical contact to achieve that bit of magic. Mage Hunter is able to force people into their Natural Form, but that only works if the person in question still retains their First Form. [Eyes of the Goddess] can pin down the location of a person in question, through any disguise, but even that has a vague range of 500 kilometers.”

Erick listened, as sweat dried, and he channeled mana through Ophiel, to Spur. Ophiel listened, too; completely silent.

He said, “There are other ways to get a Familiar Form besides killing and eating, you know. There’s the originally intended way, for one. Live long enough with any others, be they animal or person, and you one day discover that you are able to create a Familiar Form of those animals or people that is uniquely you. If you stick with that form, it even becomes your Natural Form. You age, you grow, depending on the new form. This was the original function of [Polymorph]. It was a way to understand others by becoming them, or a way to become someone else and leave your old life behind. That’s why the archmages in the first centuries of the Script created the spell; to get away from their old lives and to start again where none knew they were mages.

“You have to understand that in those first centuries, there was a very large push by many cultures and societies to punish everyone who picked the path of the mage; the wounds of the Sundering were still very visible upon the land.

“But like all magic, a few took this boon of [Polymorph] and turned it into a tool to kill and kill again. The creation of the Sin Seeker Class and an expansion to the Mage Hunter’s Class Abilities were added rather early on, again, by archmages expanding the Script, after it rapidly became apparent that people were abusing [Polymorph]. It wasn’t till years later that [Eyes of the Goddess] was developed by a very old friend of mine a millennium gone already.”

Erick asked, “And that’s as far as anyone has solved this problem? What about soul magic and mind magic? I don’t know anything about them, but shouldn’t they be able to see who is behind the face?”

The Headmaster smiled. He said, “There are smaller spells that work in smaller areas. [Eyes of the Goddess] uses a few of those smaller spells, in fact. But, no. No one has ever created the spell that would find a person anywhere on the world, no matter their current Form.” He added, “[Polymorph] is a very strong spell. If used in a certain way, a person can shroud their soul and their mind into those whose forms they steal. Not many know this way, and I have never shared that particular secret with anyone, but I do inform people that it is possible just so that they can understand the true depths of the problem.”

“… time magic?”

The Headmaster looked at Erick, quizzically. He said, “That’s an absolute no, direct from Phagar; a proclamation laid down 1400 years ago at the start of the Script.”

“Not altering time, but just looking at it? Going through the 4th dimension.”

The Headmaster frowned. “Dimensional magic is Banned.”

“No no... Uh.” Erick said, “I think there’s a language barrier here. I mean. We live in three dimensions, right. Length, width, height, correct?”

“Ah. You mean to Gaze the River of Time. Using [Witness] on a person, perhaps?”

“Well. No. But maybe. I mean to look at a person’s past.”

The Headmaster nodded. “This was how they created the Sin Seeker Class. What you speak of is already there, and very, very few people are good enough to achieve [Witness] in the first place, let alone the Class it produced. Every city has a few Sin Seekers, but none of them do what Messalina wants. None of them are able to [Eyes of the Goddess] the specific location of a specific person.”

“Is [Witness] the only way to look through time?”

“There are many restrictions on the Script to prevent abuses, and time magic is a rather hard limit governed directly by Phagar. Even [Witness] doesn’t truly look through time. It just allows a recipient to reconstruct the manasphere as it was, based on what is there. If the manasphere is too ripped or turbulent, [Witness] will fail to see the River. The best Sin Seeker I ever knew was only able to view ten years of a person’s life, and even that was a spotty [Witness] that only hit the highlights that left permanent marks on the body, mind, or soul.”

“Could a person just ask Phagar or some other Relevant Entity for a Quest to end the Polymorphed person’s life, and then follow where that quest leads?”

The Headmaster smiled. “Sure. A Champion could do that. Or a particularly devout religious leader. A bishop of Sumtir could call for a Quest against a particularly evil person, though that is a lot rarer than you might think.”

“That’s a nonstarter idea, then.” Erick thought. He asked, “She’s a summoner too, right? Couldn’t she work out how to forcefully summon someone to her?”

“That magic does not exist as I think you are imagining it, either.” The Headmaster said, “Even a nonconsensual [Teleport] is practically impossible for most people. And besides, she would need to be directly in front of them and also know them as the people who killed her village, which would make this whole [Particle Scan] idea unnecessary.” He added, “[Forced Teleport] is a wildly varied spell. There are a lot of holes in what I just said, but they would be filled if we spoke for several hours on this subject.”

“That reminds me. Do you know how a Shade’s [Teleport Lock] works?”

“It is a divine gift, bestowed by the Darkness.” The Headmaster’s eyes narrowed at the sunset. “There are quite a few divine magics out there that I have never touched. The storms of Sininindi. The harvests of Atunir. The battlecries of Sumtir. The beauty of Aloethag.” He added, “The [Zone of Peace] of Koyabez.”

Erick smirked as he said, “I got 12 points for that, and it went to people who brokered a peace between the Kingdoms and the Republic before the Halls of the Dead could turn the continent into a warzone. I think I’m okay with that outcome.” His voice turned hard as he added, “Besides, I want to kill the Shades, not broker a peace.”

“Not one for peace...” The Headmaster looked on, as he said, “The world was in a state of uncomfortable peace before you came along.”

“And if you all had done your jobs, then I wouldn’t have to fight at all.”

“I agree,” The Headmaster said, without reservation. “We have left wounds scattered unhealed across this world for a long time. I do my part, but I am not a tyrant. I will not move unless my help is accepted. Mostly, it is not.” He asked, “Have you heard of the Tragedy of Quintlan?”

Erick didn’t know where the Headmaster was going with that, but Erick went along anyway. He said, “A little. It’s the only uninhabited continent on Veird.”

“The Underworld down there still has some cities, but yes, the overland is uninhabited, and extremely wild.” The Headmaster said, “There is a story to tell here, so if you will pardon this old man his tangents, I would like to tell it to you.”

Erick filled his mug with more coftea, and with a questioning look at the Headmaster, and a subsequent nod and him holding out his own cup, Erick filled the Headmaster’s cup as well.

The Headmaster said, “It takes a lot of resources to maintain a city on Veird. Monsters are constantly spawning everywhere. It starts with slimes, but if they’re not managed properly, oozes eventually come next. Or elementals. Or any other manner of monsterized creature from some other location, that sees all the food generating out of thin air in the form of slimes, and decides to make a new home in an old, forgotten dungeon.

“Food was one of the problems of Quintlan, but that comes later, and maybe not how you’re thinking.

“The former nations of Quintlan…” The Headmaster looked up into the air, softly saying, “Over 1100 years ago, by now.” He continued, “They were a massive population center. Six billion refugees from other worlds, all welcomed to Veird by Koyabez’s open arms. On that once thriving land, they [Stoneshape]d mountains into cities. They reshaped the Underworld for water. [City Shape] was a very popular spell in those early days, as well as [Weaken Monsters] to hold back the ever-growing horde outside the city walls. In the first three hundred years after the Sundering, the people of Quintlan led the charge against Melemizargo’s Hatred; to killing the monsters of the world. But no one really knew what they were doing, and many stepped on the tails of others. Some nations used [Weaken Monsters] without care, and the resulting rage when the spell inevitably lapsed decimated neighboring kingdoms. When those neighboring kingdoms fell, their sewers that they had made to control the generation of slimes in their cities… Those sewers still generated slimes. And then came the oozes. The oozes ravaged everything, while assassins who had been waiting for revenge killed those who could fight back, and thus the house of cards that was Quintlan came tumbling down.

“I have radically simplified the true Tragedy of Quintlan. It was not an easy, quick process. Nations rose from the ashes of others. Nations fell back to that ash. The eventual, completed process took a hundred years, and there is much debate as to when the problems truly started. But there is one thing that all the historians agree on: The Tragedy of Quintlan happened because the people in charge liked it when their neighbors died.

“That continent was not overpopulated. Whatever the historians say, it was not overpopulated. Sure, there were refugees from every walk of life stuffed together into a land with very little resources except the developing Script. But, as in every case like this, someone rises to the top and leads the rest. Originally, we had leaders that understood the need to work together for the common good, but after hundreds of years, that was not the case. Eventually the entire continent fell to raging oozes because of mortals Hellbent on getting to the top of the pile, and not caring how they got there.

“I say all this because we were in an equilibrium before you disrupted the world. People died. People thrived. Veird was stable. Now we have Particle Magic, and you continue to speak of new magics that likely do exist. I have heard of others developing lightward spells like never before, but I had not linked that to your influence until that aborted lecture that began with 'Four Fundamental Forces'.

“But back to Quintlan. The Tragedy of Quintlan happened for a million small reasons, but the one that started it all was something very similar to your [Exalted Storm Aura]. An archmage created the spell [Create Food and Water], and they were hailed as a hero as their spell became part of the open Script. Personally, I believe that this spell was not a major problem, but it exacerbated the separation between the rich and the poor. Those who could make excellent food were snatched up with promises of gold and good lives. Those who couldn’t, were relegated to porridge and squalor, and the divide spread. Eventually, many rulers outlawed lavish feasts of [Create Food and Water], except for their own personal uses.

“I still remember the carvings on the walls of Koyatle, and Merum, and Herol, rallying the people to accept the beauty of porridge, and to throw the gleaming feasts of the nobility into the mud.” The Headmaster added, “That was a plot by those same kings and queens, just so you know. It backfired on them, spectacularly.

“If that was all that happened, they might have had some smaller wars and eventually stabilized in a new configuration, but there was a problem growing too large to ignore. Atunir was about to die. She was about to transform into the Dark Goddess of Unending Hunger.

“A vote of Relevant Entities was held. [Create Food and Water] was moved to Registrar-Only over a period of one month. People were refunded that point and were offered the chance to get [Grow] for free. [Grow] was already widely used in the rest of the world, but Quintlan did not like the spell. As a result of this decision, three kingdoms the size of the Wasteland Kingdoms fell practically overnight to their neighbors. It gets more complicated from there.

“I say all this, because back then, Oceanside and I were not able to stop the Tragedy of Quintlan. We were not able to untangle that nest of oozes, or cut to the heart of any problem, for every time we saw a problem ended, five more sprung up in their place. But we are strong, now. Strong enough and wise enough to see a problem before it becomes a problem.

“But when I look at you, I see a giant question mark. You are neither the enemy, nor a savior, though you have already gathered both titles from many different people. Whatever the case, right now, you are an asset, but equilibrium has been shattered. Nations move at your unintended magic.

“Odaali was killed because someone weaponized Dead Air, which before now was impossible, because no one understood that they were working from a fundamentally flawed worldview.

“I have no doubt, that if we ever find the people who killed Messalina’s town, that whatever happened there would have been because of Particle Magic.

The Headmaster looked to Erick, saying, “I wish for you to remain an asset. But know that you are moving nations, right now. If you should become a problem, then I will remove you. But it is much more likely that you are a boon.

“Because I feel you are a boon, I want to help you create this [Particle Scan] spell, because very soon, the Ancients of the world will start to move. Ar’Kendrithyst is gearing up for something large. The Greensoil Republic is no doubt planning on creating a Converter Angel and unleashing it somewhere. A [Scan] that can see through all of that will put you in the center of all of this, as well as allow me to see the fights before they happen.

“Because if you do manage to make this unknown magic, then I want to be the one to wield it; to find the center of these knots before they can strangle the rest of all life on Veird.

He added, “You can live wherever you wish. I am no jailer, and I never want to be. I am also rather confident that I can work with Spur to ensure your safety, if you wish to continue to live so openly. But know that if you walk out of Oceanside with this spell and without my help, that you will be killed within a week.”

The sun dipped to the horizon by the time the Headmaster finished speaking of Quintlan, and of what he wanted out of Erick. Erick had stopped channeling magic through Ophiel to Spur a while ago. The rains were done. Now he was just thinking. There was quite a lot on his mind, but foremost, once he got over his own private terror, he thought about this [Particle Scan]. Everyone seemed to want this new magic, but he had no idea where to really begin. He certainly knew it wouldn’t be safe if he actually managed to make such a thing —he didn’t need the Headmaster to remind him of that fact, either— but he had truly given up safety when he decided to kill the Shades, hadn’t he? Walking this path might be a lot tougher than he thought.

But he was still going to walk it, for sure.

Erick began bargaining, “I don’t want to be used as bait ever again. And you should not have done that to Poi.”

“Accepted. If such a thing should ever happen again, I will pursue your consent beforehand. Your guardsman and his Mind Mage acquaintances will likely have their own private discussion on this matter as soon as you tell your people of this conversation. For what it’s worth: I have already been admonished for demanding this particular help from my Mind Mage contacts.”

“I won’t use this potential spell— Ya know? It’s really weird to talk about potential magic. I was sure I could figure out [Gate], but that never happened. But. I won’t use this spell to help you find dragons.” Erick said, “Murderers, monsters. Whatever may come. Those are all fine. But no dragons, unless they actually are part of the previous categories, and even then, I won’t like it and I’ll likely say ‘no’, anyway. I don’t want to be a part of any of your society either.”

The Headmaster said, “Those that threaten me are none of your concern. I will strive to ensure that you are not targeted by other dragons.”

“There’s a dragon in Spur. I don’t know who they are, but I won’t help you find them. If it turns out I’m already friends with them, I would like nothing to ever come of that.”

The Headmaster frowned. He said, “There are many like that one, hiding out across the world, doing nothing more than dominating their own private kingdoms. I will accept this clause, but you should know that if a dragon comes for me then I will have no choice but to kill. If they run, then...” The Headmaster seemed to force himself to say, “I will make that be enough.”

“Why?” Erick asked, “Why is dragon essence so fragile? Why is it so unlike all the others?”

The Headmaster said, “Because Melemizargo committed several unfathomable acts of highest Wizardry while the rest of us were creating the Script, in an attempt to abort this land before we could save what was left of our Old Cosmology. One of those horrific acts was the creation of Dragon Essence; the Cursed Blood. He thought to tear Veird apart with the surviving dragons rending continents apart in their battles for domination, but all he did was drive us deeper into hiding, where the strongest of us silently murdered the smallest of us, we divided the world, and all of us accepted that we would never again be as powerful as we once were. This was the cost of us winning that war in spite of Melemizargo's mutation of the natural order; the cost of surviving in this new universe.” The Headmaster added, “In the end, that Dark Dragon still claimed a kind of victory. He’s the only one of us whose very existence is not tied to the Cursed Blood.”

There was a lot there. Erick boggled trying to ask his next question. What came out was, “Melemizargo is a wizard?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Erick wasn’t sure what else he could possibly say to that information. Then he asked, “Does everyone know that?”

“I haven’t told you a single thing that isn’t common knowledge in some circle, or another.” The Headmaster added, “Though some of those circles are smaller than you might imagine.”

As the sun dipped down below the horizon and purple twilight took hold of the sky, Erick asked, “I’d also appreciate it if you could stop with the threats.”

“Would you prefer me to keep quiet while you go changing the world, and to quietly end you when you have gone too far? Or would you prefer to know what outcomes lie ahead of the paths you choose?”

“… the second one.”

The Headmaster nodded. He said, “I would appreciate it if you kept these four fundamental forces of your universe to yourself. There has already been enough magical upheaval for one century.” He looked back to Windy Manor. “Your apprentice is fine, as are your guards, I suppose. But you truly should be more circumspect with your dissemination of truths. Being an archmage carries a lot of responsibility. One of those responsibilities is knowing who to trust regarding your magic.”

Erick glanced toward the Manor alongside the Headmaster. Poi was inside the house, sitting on the couch and pointedly reading a book. Kiri moved around in the kitchen, making some sort of dessert on the kitchen counter with bread, sugar, and cinnamon; dinner must be over already. Teressa was sitting on the other couch, on the other side of Poi, doing nothing; probably training her Mana Sense. Rats was… Somewhere. Maybe still at the hospital. He was there a lot more than usual ever since the anti-parasiters left for the Crystal Forest. Erick turned back toward the Headmaster. They had run out of coftea a while ago. Their mugs sat cold and empty on the garden table.

Erick said, “They’re good people.”

“I agree, which gives merit to your own disposition.” The Headmaster asked, “Do you have any other questions?”

“What does [Polymorph] do? Exactly?”

“A surface casting of the spell is to change your body into the form of another. A deeper casting of the spell is to become another being, like you were born in that form. A generalist mage who does not care for the intricacies of their alternate forms will cast this spell with a shallow understanding, and thus the Script does all the heavy lifting. Such a mage will be unable to achieve the deeper aspects of their alternate forms; like instincts, the ability to sense when it is time to migrate, or the mating calls of whatever species they happen to be.

“A person truly focused on becominganother being, either through thought, or action, or circumstance, will cast [Polymorph] in a deeper, more profound way. They might experience the deeper aspects I mentioned before. It is at this point that conventional tracking will fail, and even unconventional tracking with a Sin Seeker or a Mind Mage or a Necromancer searching for a specific soul will also run into problems.

“For those with a low Willpower who attempt this deeper change, or even those who take on too many Familiar Forms, they will soon find that one of their inner monsters has taken over—”

Erick felt a twinge of panic for Jane.

The Headmaster noticed. He said, “I believe Jane is going to be fine. From what I have heard, she was able to complete the transfiguration of a slime into an ooze, and she has raised her Willpower to a more than acceptable level. This bodes well for her mastery of [Polymorph]. Though, if she keeps going around killing Ancients she will run into different problems which will have nothing to do with [Polymorph], and have everything to do with the monsters of Veird.”

Erick resumed breathing, as an unknown worry settled onto his shoulders.

The Headmaster continued, “Conventional tracking fails when it comes to a truly deep and expertly done [Polymorph] because this sort of magic will change who a person is, at their core.” He added, “[Polymorph] is one of the most fascinating magics ever created. I will have Krigea get you some tomes on the subject, but what I have said should give you a guide regarding further research.” He asked, “Are you still interested in this ‘Lessons for the Archmage’ Class? I am still willing to teach you.”

Erick had felt like he was at a crossroads this entire conversation, but then the Headmaster brought it all to a point by asking that question. On one hand, Erick did not want to be anywhere near the Headmaster, but on the other, good relations with Oceanside would go a long way to paving the way to a future without Shades, or these ‘Ancients’. With that in mind, there was only one answer that Erick could reasonably give.

He said, “I’m going to work on this light dungeon, then I would like help with this [Scan] spell, and if that works out, and if I can get Messalina out of my backyard by pointing her vengeance in a specific direction, then I am going to do that, too. Classes with you can come later, but I am open to the idea.”

The Headmaster paused for a long while.

Erick watched him think, as he gently touched Ophiel, who was still silently sitting on his lap.

Eventually, the Headmaster said, “If that is enough for her… If she goes back to her jungle after she has taken her vengeance, then this might be an acceptable outcome.” He added, “She will likely try to kill you on the way out.”

“… She hasn’t directly killed anyone so far?” Erick added, “That she hasn’t re-bodied, anyway. So she doesn’t consider that murder, does she? But you guys murdered the people she killed on the way to Eidolon.”

“I did not enjoy issuing that order, but two of them had already become monsterized. Eidolon saw what was happening and killed the rest.” The Headmaster said, “This is her version of playing nice, Erick. This is what she does. And when people in power like her play nice, that’s when you know they’re up to something.”

“… Does that statement apply to you, too?”

The Headmaster laughed. He asked, “Does that statement apply to you, too?”

- - - -

Erick walked into the Manor carrying empty mugs and the empty pot of coftea, with Ophiel calmly twittering in violins on his shoulder. The Headmaster had left minutes ago.

Kiri had half of a tray of cinnamon rolls sitting out on the kitchen counter. White frosting absolutely covered them; soaking into the layered bread and forming a small pool on the plate. Kiri just stood by the counter, watching Erick. Teressa sat at the table, sipping a beer.

Poi remained on the couch. He shut his book and asked, “We’re okay, for now?”

Erick said, “We’re good.”

Kiri said, “I kept dinner warm.”

“Thank you, Kiri.” Erick brought the mugs and pot into the kitchen and put them away; he had already [Cleanse]d them. “That was good of you.” He turned and spoke to the group, “Calzin was bugged in order to bug everyone else. The perpetrators were little flying people who are mostly invisible to all senses except Mana Sense. They’re the creations of Messalina, and they’re likely also the same people who stole the diamonds at the dungeon.”

Poi winced, muttering, “How did I not—”

“The Headmaster had his own Mind Mages keep you blind, Poi, in order to track through the connection to Messalina.”

Kiri’s eyes went wide.

Teressa said, “He shouldn’t have done that.”

“You’re right, Teressa.” Poi’s face turned hard. He said, “He should not have done that.”

“I told him as much.” Erick said, “He agreed to not do it again without my consent, first.”

Poi just frowned as five extra telepathic lines raced out of his head, into the manasphere.

Well that was certainly a mess for another day. Erick turned to Kiri, putting on a smile as he asked, “Now where is that dinner—”

Kiri immediately turned and opened the oven, saying, “I left it on a plate, right here.” With expertly held talons to protect her from the heat, she pulled out a hot plate piled high with shredded meats and vegetables, with a side of bread. She set it on the kitchen counter in front of Erick. “Teressa made it.”

As the scents of well seasoned meats reached his nose, Erick spoke up, “Smells fantastic, Teressa.”

Teressa smiled. “Thanks, Boss.” She added, “I am going to pursue [Witness], I think. Especially if there are little invisible people flying around.”

Erick conjured oven mitts and picked up his plate. As he walked over to the dinner table and sat down across from Teressa, saying, “That sounds great.” He asked, “What does the world look like through Mana Sense?”

“It’s more like being a part of the ocean, than using your eyes.” She added, “It’s harder to do inside this [Ward], but it’s like swinging a mace. Once you can lift that mace at all, you can train to eventually wield it like it weighs nothing.”

“I still haven’t been able to do that at all,” Erick said.

“Me either,” Kiri said, as she set down at the table with a cinnamon roll. “But I don’t like the idea of exposing myself outside of this [Prismatic Ward] to learn the skill.”

Poi picked his book back up, and kept reading.

After he ate, Erick and the others went to the hospital. Kiri brought cinnamon rolls for the nurses, and for Rats. He gobbled one down and quickly stuffed another away into the break room. It wasn’t long before the horde of nurses and doctors in Jane’s ward descended on the desserts like a plague of happy locusts, leaving nothing behind. Kiri hadn’t made nearly enough; some people got to the party too late. Kiri promised to make more tomorrow.

Jane still slept as soundly as ever, under the faintly glowing metal [Sleep] rune embedded in the headboard of her bed.

- - - -

In the dark of night, while Erick laid in bed, he felt a need to talk to Jane. They hadn’t spoken in days. She was fine physically, of course, and Alibeth let her out of the [Sleep] spell to speak a little, but after two incoherent sentences Jane always started vomiting again. She had to be put back under.

So Erick laid in bed, wanting to talk to someone in confidence. There were many choices. Poi or Kiri would be willing to talk, but he would have to wake them up and tell them a lot of background information, and he didn’t want to do that. Not right now, anyway. Teressa and Rats, who had come back to the Manor to sleep, were also valid choices, but that would require even more secrets spilled out into the world.

He could probably talk to Silverite, but that would come later. A lot of discussions about what he had learned would have to come up later, with others. But for now...

For now, he shifted tactics. He threw a hundred mana at the air, and posed a question. Ophiel perked up at Erick’s side atop the covers, as divine fire whispered in the air above.

‘Rozeta thinks it would work, but no one is sure, and everyone is eager to see if you can. The creation of new magic comes from the mana, but works through the Script. You might have to try a few times.’

‘Thanks, Phagar.’

‘… Aren’t you going to ask me if he changed your spell?’

‘I’d ask you that later, maybe. I’d rather ask you if you think he’s a good guy.’

‘I cannot comment on that.’

‘Then… is Messalina’s True Resurrection, real?’

‘Tough question. I’m gonna have to go with the answer I have always given: I cannot comment on that.’

‘Did an entire continent fall because of the creation of [Create Food and Water]?’

‘It started with assassinations and political games and the people in charge not governing for the needs of the many, and there were so, so many. It all boiled over because we took away [Create Food and Water]. Atunir was about to shift Dark. It had to be done.’

Erick took that in, then he asked, ‘Got a hint about this [Particle Scan] question?’

A happy smile seemed to spread in the air, but also not. ‘I can’t help you that much.’

Erick pondered, ‘Wave functions. Probability curves. All particles are wherever they want to be until we observe them… so… Probability magic? Here’s a wild guess: A spell to force a person’s [Polymorph] forms into a state of superposition, and then to collapse them down to the one I choose.’ He added, ‘That doesn’t go far enough, though. What I’d need to be able to do, is check against forms that they’ve already given up in the past, too, which seems like an impossible problem. When old forms are given up, they’re gone forever from the Script, aren’t they? That’s a topic to research. Jane probably already knows all this, but I can’t ask her...’

He continued, ‘But even past that, I would need a spell that would radiowave [Scan] everyone in a super long range, which I’m not even sure how to do, and then I’d have to run this theoretical superpositioned [Polymorph] [Scan] on everyone, and then have it return the one target I was searching for. I could not do that in a single spell. It would take at least two? One for the [Polymorph] superpositioning, another for the locate-by-radiowaves spell? Maybe more than two spells. This is starting to sound like an entire new set of spells.

‘Forcing someone into another form sounds like [Baleful Polymorph] to me, so that’s not at all what I want to do. Besides all that, the pure number of targets in such a scan would make such a spell completely impossible to cast, just because of pure cost.’ He added, ‘Ah! But wait! I could put the entire spell into a superposition and have it only trigger upon the target I was looking for the whole time. Maybe make it destructively interfere with itself in every instance of the [Scan] except for when it returns the target I am looking for. Now that sounds magical, precise, and a lot like that quantum code breaking I read about. It might work?’

‘Impressive.’ Phagar said, ‘Some of that could work, but the implementation would be a lot more difficult than you might think.’ He added, ‘And because I don’t think you’d ever ask and because Rozeta is yelling at me to tell you: Kirginatharp did not change your spell. No one can do that except her, and she only does it to—’ He seemed to speak to someone else, saying, ‘Okay. Fine. I won’t say another word.’ He seemed to turn back to Erick, saying, ‘You good?’

‘… Yes. I’m good. Thank you. Good to know. Thank you.’

‘Later.’

The thread of divine magic between Erick and infinity released, feeling like the space after a sigh.

Ophiel trilled on the bed at Erick’s side. Dozens of eyes were open all across his winged body, looking around at the empty air above. Erick patted the little guy as his own mind wandered with possibilities.