“O’ merciful Tissa,

Servant-Protector of the Rahayana,

and Eternal Guardian of Plimsveri!

In the turmoil of failing Valaria,

She alone descended to protect the people.

To bring them to a new genesis faraway.

O’ graceful Tissa,

Today, the storms of Hristomver rage again

The people cry for aid, and she will answer!

Bless the ever-righteous with protection,

Grant the ever-faithful succour,

And the ever-devoted benediction!

- The Chant of Benediction, the 27th Chant of the Tome of Flight

“Before I begin...this was quite the difficult request, Mate Outsider.”

“Sorry about that, Gerwhin.”

Roland looked at his visitor across the table, looking apologetic. Before him, sat a lanky, tall and thin humanoid, wearing a set of glittering chainmail under a dirty looking leather tablard, reflecting the faded golden colour of his hair.

“Well, I was hoping, that with your people’s mastery of arcanum imprinting, that asking you to make it work would be possible…”

“Unfortunately, like all things, fate does not make things that easy.” The visitor pulled back his long hair, exposing his pointy ears hidden beneath. “But I really must ask about what you were planning to accomplish with this...request,” the Elzen’s shining turquoise eyes - and a jewel embedded in his forehead - all bored into Roland with uncanny seriousness.

Roland looked down at what the Elzen had placed on the table - a piece of layered steel sealed atop a slice of blessed stone, with etchings in a particular pattern - four particular burns in the wood meant to allow for a small level of variation in the aetherial flow pumped through the device, with a single complex rune sitting in the middle meant to act as the nexus of the intended spell.

Under the light of the crystal lights in the underground room, Roland picked it up, examining it further. - and his heart sank. From the many burns and poked holes in the object - with a large crack in the middle of the wood, it was quite obvious the spell had not worked out as planned, resulting in the arcanum ‘device’ becoming useless.

“Well, I was hoping…” Roland replied, with an apologetic nod. “I was hoping that my theory of self-perpetuating spells would work, using the idea of a levitating spell as a base...but maybe not.” Roland scratched the back of his head. “So what happened?”

“It is, as you would put it, a long story…” Gerwhin pulled out a slip of parchment - and Roland recognized that it was his original order and instruction. “...but first, as you might have figured out by now, your Strovian three orstad ago...wasn’t the best.”

Roland winced, remembering the hasty moment in which he scratched out a barely legible script of orders with a feather. “Yes, back then I really should have asked the Grand Magister to have helped me with the translation.”

“It was not completely your fault.” the Elzen nodded sympathetically. “Hard as I tried, I searched for as many aetherbinders as I could find that would honour this request. Not many responded in virtue of Trisni Neversi’s decree - though a few did - but with your...poorly worded request, their ability to make something of worth was limited. The broken piece that you see in front of you was the most that the aetherbinders I asked could make, albeit with your...flawed instructions.”

The Outsider made a long, painful sigh. “What was the Trisni’s decree? Something tells me that if he needs all the aetherbinders, it must have been urgent…”

“Ah yes,” A sad smile appeared on the Elzen’s face. “The Trisni recently inspected our armouries and forges and declared them...old and obsolete. So he has ordered the aetherbinder claves to begin repairing and enhancing our forges, mines...in preparation for a large scale forging batch of armour and arms.”

“That’s just unlucky, now of all times.” Roland lamented.

“Oh, are you not aware?” Gerwhin sat up. “I thought you would have known.”

“Eh?” Roland looked at the Elzen messenger, stunned. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, Tissa’s grace.” Gerwhin raised a hand to his mouth, barely suppressing his mirth. “My sincere apologies, Outsider, I thought the Magister would have informed you by now.”

“So, what is it?” Roland tried to hide his embarrassment by folding his arms and bowing his head. “Tell me. Please.”

“Well, the kingdoms of old Strovia, for the past few years, have been slowly stepping up work into anything related to arcanum. The creation of Straskey’s very own Arcanus Mallebrium was, indeed, no accident, for Vorstradt had been increasing their own efforts to refine their aetherial arts, and Straskey had to respond in kind. And with such a situation, Plimsveri can not afford to be left behind.” As he finished, Gerwhin looked to the side, his expression solemn. “The legacy of Strovia still lingers in the minds of its nobles, in ways that do not herald peace, I am afraid.”

“...an aetherial arms race,” Roland muttered to himself in English. “So, war?”

“Only Tissa - and perhaps Findriel - knows.” Gerwhin folded his arms as well, sighing. “And the black-hearts of those who rule the lands, of course.”

A dour mood descended over the room, as both parties sat in silence.

“But I suppose to hear me prattle on the thoughts of nobles and men are not what you are for,” Gerwhin suddenly sat up, discarding his previous demeanour. “Are you curious in what the aetherbinders spoke of your proposal?”

Roland perked up at Gerwhin’s statement. “Sure, why not?”

“Very well.” From his bag, the elzen brought out a large tube, decorated plainly with the seal of Plimsveri - a large bird decorated on a circular gold shield, endowed with a ring of stars around it. A few faint rings of decorated lines could be seen running around the tube, decorating its cream-coloured surface.

“...I thought you said that only a few aetherbinders were able to work on this.” Roland stared at the tube, confused at its massive size. “They can’t have that much to say...”

“Only a few indeed were able to work on the object before you.” Gerwhin nodded. “But, so to speak, this indeed garnered the interest of the various clades, so there were some people who attempted to think further of your proposal.”

Roland leaned in, the eagerness of an academic overriding his self-control. “What did they say?”

“Well, I would love to discuss these points in detail, but I’m afraid I’m due for the Centannus Vauqil’s counsel for my Trisni.” Gehrwin gently placed the scroll’s container on the table. “Perhaps it’s for the better, as I am no aetherbinder, and I would not be able to assist in any great capacity. Instead, I shall leave these theoretical assertions to you.”

“Oh, then I’m sorry for taking up your time.” Roland stood up, blushing. “I hope I didn’t delay you long…” he said, offering a hand of thanks.

“You did not,” Gehrwin returned the handshake, his slender hand exerting a tight grip. “It was a pleasure seeing you again, Mate Outsider. “

==|==

The platform bearing the Elzen messenger disappeared into the surface, Roland and the Grand Magister both watching it slowly rise from sight.

“So, Roland.” the Grand Magister turned to him, turning to the tube that he was carrying. “What exactly did the Trinsi’s Shadow hand to you?”

“Oh, its…” Roland took the tube off his back. “Its a scroll detailing the...comments, or explanations and reports the Plimsveri aetherbinders had about the...thing I asked them about back then.” He reached for one of the tube covers, only for a seal to appear right before his fingers. “Wait, what’s this?”

“Hmmm?” Madeline looked over, as Roland pointed the end of the tube to her. “Oh, it’s a Wristan Seal, meant to protect items of high importance. Think of it as a lock, but with nary a physical form, the entirety of its power within the aetherbound seals of the object.”

“Hmmm.” Roland frowned. “Can you help me open it?”

“It was meant for you, so I assume only you can open it.” she pointed out. “The Wristan seals work by identifying their users through the aetherial energy made through their use of arcanum. Think of it like a signature that you ‘write’ each time you cast a spell.”

“Huh.” Roland moved one nervous finger to the cover. “So...I have to cast a spell on it?”

“Or, more simply, just imbibe it with aether.” Madeline noted. “In fact, I presume this is how it works, storing up the minuscule amount of power each user puts into it. We should get to the study chambers, seeing that the claves probably meant this just for you.”

Madeline walked away, and Roland joined her, licking his lips as he stared at the tube, finger poised over it as he exerted no small amount of effort. “Oh by the way...what did you call Gehrwin again? The Trisni’s…”

“The Trisni’s Shadow? That’s because he is his shadow, of a sort.” The both of them headed for the side of the hall, into a staircase leading downwards.

“I don’t get what you mean…”

“Ah, forgive me. The Trisni, as you are aware, is the ruling lord of Plimsveri, similar in rank to King Aigulf. But the nature of the Plimsveri nobility is that, unlike the seat of Straskey passing down the line of House Weltzen - or the rest of the Strovian fiefdoms, considering their position as...refugees, really - the position of Trisni is passed around the nobles of the Plimsveri Elzen. That does means that the politics of Plimsveri tend to have...certain considerations, considerations that the various Trisni would only put in their closest retainers and men.”

“And Gehrwin is one such...bodyguard?”

“That would be a little demeaning to your new friend.” Stepping from the last step, Madeline looked at Roland with a wry smile. “Nay, not a mere bodyguard, Gehrwin is the Trisni Neversi’s closest confidant, given their great difference in ranks - one is Ov-Tissari, the other is Celmoran - yet strong friendship. Only the tasks of most severe consequence would the Trisni give to him. His presence here -” Madeline looked away, her smile turning serious “- indicates that something would be afoot. Or that your little project is more important than you might think.”

“The scroll is quite large,” Roland commented, weighting the tube in his hand. “That said, he did say a large number of claves were interested.”

“Then your little project is quite possibly a matter of great interest for the Elzen’s, at least from their view of their military prospects.” Madeline turned dead serious.”Remind me, what was your project about again?”

“Ahhh…” Roland took the useless ‘device’ that Gehrwin had brought out of his pocket, passing it to Madeline. “I wanted to create an arcanum ‘device’ that would be able to create and maintain its own spell, specifically in this case, a self-levitating object.”

“And the reason for such is…?”

“Um…” Roland was thankful for the relative darkness of the lower chambers, as he could feel himself blushing. “Well...I suppose it came to me when I was reading certain fiction from my world, and seeing how a good chunk of my world’s fiction revolves around the creative use of ‘magic’ - or what we here call ‘arcanum’, I thought it was worth trying. Well...I thought it was worth trying a few months ago.”

Madeline smiled again. “Oh yes, now I remember our many sessions of teaching you Strovian. A very delightful process.”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Roland muttered darkly, remembering the many mind-communions, frustrations, and tortured exercises.

“It was, for me. It’s been a long while since I had taught someone in a new tongue, after all. But, nevertheless,” her voice turned from wistful to serious, “I find it interesting the aetherbinders would be curious in that project. ‘Self-perpetuating spells’ - if I understand your manner of speech properly - are not a new concept for the Plimsveri claves.”

“Oh?”

“The Wristan Seal might be considered…” Madeline paused, thinking through the concept again, “...a self-perpetuating spell, of sorts, as it maintains under its own power, after all. But I daresay what you mean and what you wanted is certainly more different than the Wristan Seal.”

“It definitely is.” Roland nodded, hefting the heavy tube. “...I need to check again, however. I might have forgotten something, or I need to check my theory.”

“Understandable. Unfortunate that we are already preoccupied, and short of time,” The Magister placed a hand on a door and pushed it open. “It would be a fascinating topic to examine ”

They rounded the corner into a room, where a table sat in the middle, an assortment of curious objects placed on the table, grimoires, parchment and other exotic materials - placed next to a modern bound book, a multimeter a roll of copper wire and a collection of batteries.

“The assistants have brought everything that you had up here. If you are ready, we can begin.”

==|==

“As I was saying, the nature of the electrical current is caused by free-flowing electrons in the wire - so if we want that crossover to work, the main consideration has to be how you could drive the electrons...”

“Indeed, indeed…”

As Roland explained the phenomenon of electricity, the Grand Magister furiously scribbled into her grimoire, aether-touched ink glinting in the light as it dried in contact with the pages. Meanwhile, on the table, two lengths of copper wire laid on the table, attached to a stand - an arcanum instrument engraved with twin statues of an empty-eyed cyclops - where their exposed ends touched a single slab of obsidian. Beside the stand sat the multimeter, which both wires led back into.

“So in essence, in this case, we are trying to simulate the electromotive force with arcanum...but seeing how the glyphs or runes of Uiatach will probably not be able to simulate the movement of individual electrons, that might be a problem to solve first,” Roland mentioned again, holding a sheaf of paper-based notes as he looked through them again.

Madeline nodded, writing the last few words with a flourish. “A fiendish problem indeed.” She mentioned, slipping out the obsidian slab on the stand and gently placing it on the table. “We knew that all things on this earth must have been made from tiny little blocks, but of the idea of such ‘electrons’...” She breathed in heavily. “So much we had discovered, and yet so much more to find.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we can actually solve this problem by today if you ask me.” Roland stifled a yawn, checking his watch. “If anything...finding a relation between the aether and the electromagnetic force would be worthy of a Nobel Prize.”

“A Nobel Prize?”

“An award, the highest of all scientific awards on Earth.” Roland clarified. “Immortalized forever as a key contributor to the sciences.”

Madeline nodded, pouring over her grimoire as she examined her experimental setup. “Perhaps this might be a task that may take a findrielpulz, maybe more, if you say it as such.” And yet, she picked the feather up again and resumed writing, this time on a separate piece of parchment. “But we could simplify it.”

“Uhhh...you don’t have to complete it quickly…” Roland said, hesitant.

“Oh, I do not need to, I do have plenty of time,” Madeline remarked, setting the feather in a ink bottle. “But if there’s a way we could avoid taking up too much unnecessary time, by following the route your forefathers have set…” the Matriach picked up one of the 9-volt batteries, carefully inspecting its metal shell. “Tell me, how do these…’batteries’ work?”

“Batteries work...more as an chemical process.” Roland began to explain, flipping to a specific page on his notes and showing a specific diagram. “There, you see -” He laid it on the table, showing it to Madeline. “Specific reactions within the chemicals inside the battery generate the electromotive force that ‘drives’ - flows - through the circuit.”

“Ah.” Madeline noted it down, and then stopped. “That would be...very difficult. I assume that what those chemicals are, they are...difficult to find?”

Roland nodded. “I...think so.” He sucked air through his teeth, before aimlessly flipping through his notes again. “Maybe I was…”

“What’s wrong?” Madeline sat back in her chair, looking up at Roland curiously.

“I...I might have forgotten how advanced the sciences are in my world - again.” Roland admitted, sitting on the edge of the table himself. “Maybe...instead of wires and batteries, I should have started with electrostatic generators... simpler things.”

The both of them sat, deep in thought.

Suddenly, the door opened, with a man in green Uiatachian robes - the robes of one of acolyte rank - striding in with a handful of scrolls. As Roland watched him, he carefully placed the scrolls on another table, stacking them next to each other.

“Matriarch, these are the scrolls you requested from our collection,” he said. “However, some of them might be a little...incomplete.”

“And why is that?” Madeline asked, sparing the assistant with a glance.

“That’s because...searching the small codex that you brought here, there was minimal knowledge of ‘Hpedis’, or anything about the ‘theories of the very small’.” The acolyte replied, his voice quaking in the presence of his superior. “I have...brought, what was relevant, but to make more progress, perhaps a return to Uiatach would be in order-”

“I will return to Uiatach when I need to.” the Grand Magister snapped, a little too sudden. “Return to our codices, I’m sure there is more you can find.”

“Yes…” The assistant bowed, but did not turn away, “But - may Soetheras’s watch over me - may I know what, exactly, are you and the Mate Outsider conducting? It would greatly assist my search if I knew the...theory, behind this.”

The Grand Magister looked up at Roland, the wariness in her eyes sounding a silent warning, even as she soundlessly reached for a green-tinted feather in a different ink bottle..

Nonetheless, Roland puffed up, turning to look directly at the assistant. “Um...sorry, you are…?”

The young man clasped his hands together and bowed. “I’m Diacon Horac, Mate Outsider.”

“Oh, Hor-rac.” the Outsider fumbled with the pronunciation of the Strovian name. “I mean, Horac. Right, what we are doing here, is…” Roland pointed at the instruments on the table, “...uh...we are trying to...how would you call it? Ah, find a relationship between...electrical effects and the aetherial winds.”

The assistant nodded to indicate he was listening, although his eyes darted to the side for a moment.

“Well, more exactly, its about...electromagnetism…” Roland said the English name in full, finding no suitable translation at the back of his head, “But since you know of ‘Hpedis’, I think that will suffice.” So, um...yes, if you can find anything about this relationship, it would be very helpful.”

“Understood, Mate Outsider.” The Diacon bowed again. “I shall return with all due haste, to fulfill this great work.”

As the assistant began to shuffle away, both the Outsider and the Magister resumed their work. “Like I was thinking,” Roland began speaking, “maybe we should have started with an electrostatic generator like the Windhurst machine, or…”

Roland’s voice trailed off as he noticed Madeline not paying attention. As the door to the room closed again, Roland gently asked, “what’s wrong?”

“...other than my...disagreement with you revealing this whole purpose of our work, nothing.” Madeline replied calmly.

“Well, why not?” Roland asked, shrugging. “Telling people what their work means...does result in them helping out better.”

“Unfortunately, in Uiatach…” Madeline loaded another obsidian slab into the stand, a hasty marking of a glyph already loaded onto it. “...the nature of matters is to withhold information, to give it to those who you can truly trust - which is to say, no one.”

“Even just for an acolyte to do his work?”

“An acolyte could be a spy for another Patriach, doing anything to desperate pull themselves up the corrosive chain of progress up the High Watchtower. Make no mistake, Outsider; I truly tire of that place.” Madeline sighed, as she activated the glyph on the slab. It glowed briefly, before burning the enchanted ink it was on into cinder. “Before, things were simple enough that relying on my assistants was a simple matter; but now as what we do begins to pull more and more of your world’s knowledge into ours....taking precaution is a matter of wisdom.”

“Ok, I understand -” As Roland replied, the Magister took the slab off, she gingerly blew off the soot, preparing to reuse the slab, “- but did you have to snap at him?”

“...I was reminded of the sorry state of my once-grand institution, forgive me.”

“Then-” Roland reared up, “Well then, you should probably should apologise to h- never mind.” Seeing the red line at the very last second, Roland quickly retreated. “Anyways! We should return to...this…”

As Roland watched dumbstruck, the Grand Magister painted another two slabs with a different variation on a rune each, slipping one of them back into the stand. When the ink turned into soot, she proceeded to replace it quickly with the other, only for that slab’ ink to follow suit.

Throughout the process, the multimeter had not even lit up with any change.

“...random guessing isn’t always the best way to figure out something.” Roland commented. “But I feel you…”

“Truly a vexing problem.” Madeline said as she stared at the stand, sighing with a forlorn smile.

Time passed, as the duo slowly carved away at some semblance of an incredible obscure, perhaps even non-existent theory. As time ran out for Roland, he began to pack up, only to notice one missing thing.

“Wait, where’s that Plimsveri scroll?”