MEMORY FRAGMENT

Erekol, Second Age

The funeral was tiny, given the size of the Erekol. There was no monument or tomb, just a marker the size of a brick. Less than a hundred people came to say their last farewells, mostly mages. Even with two lives, Klere Eilia never bothered to make a family, dedicating his entire life to his craft. Aether didn’t consider the man particularly good at it, but he still admired his persistence, and the stories he told. In a way, the mage had been one of the few sources of “unknown information,” telling him about events outside of the bird’s memory. There was no way to verify it, which was slightly annoying. Aether had seen all too often how people—humans and dryads especially—lied. Even so, it was better than nothing, and he had enjoyed the mage’s company.

“You could have given him his name,” Aether’s new companion said. She was relatively young—somewhere in her thirties—universally considered a prodigy. The truth was that her vast magical abilities were as much a gift from the bird as they were the result of hard work.

Aether had noticed the girl at birth. The strength of the magic flowing through her was faint, though noticeable enough to attract attention. Normally infants, even copyettes, had the barest amount of magic at birth. Most had it “poured” into them during the time of awakening. The usual occurrence had made Aether become close to the child, to the point that his old friend Klere had become her teacher and mentor. Maybe as a sign of respect, she had taken on a human appearance, sharing part of his appearance while walking in the city. Aether found it a nice touch.

“For me, he’ll always be the First Mage.” Aether flapped his wings.

“The first mage to speak to you,” the copyette smirked.

“If you’re that snarky, why are you here?”

“The star pupil is asking for you again. Something to do with the new device that’s being built.”

The copyette wasn’t even hiding her disdain. She wasn’t the only, although one had to admit that with the new inventions the pupil brought had made life a lot more comfortable for a whole lot of people. At the same time, it had also caused a fair number of people to leave Erekol and form their own small settlements. The nymphs had been first. If there was one thing the city kingdom lacked, it was adequate oceans. Attempts had been made to remedy the situation by adding bigger and bigger lakes throughout it, but that had only made the situation worse. At present, almost as many nymphs lived outside of the city as did in it.

“We shouldn’t be calling it that,” the copyette added. “I can’t imagine the level of arrogance needed to call yourself a star pupil of the architect without even meeting the man.”

“I’m sure you have an inkling.” Aether couldn’t keep himself. His companion wasn’t particularly known for her modesty. “Let’s have a fly.”

Normally the copyette would comment on that being a waste of time. Her disdain for the star pupil, however, was so great that she readily agreed. In a matter of minutes, both of them were high above the city, not even visible as dots in the sky.

A century had done a lot to change Erekol. The astounding thing was that the vast majority of changes had occurred in the last decade. It was all driven by a handful of people, the “star pupil” among them. All of them were otherworlders and without exception, human. The world they came from was a lot different from this one, which made them interesting in the eyes of the Moons, though most of the other races found them disruptive. Already the roads between city clusters had been largely replaced by metal paths on which empty carriages flew at speeds greater than most animals. The star pupil had attempted to explain the concept to Aether a while back, but the world wasn’t at all interested. He had helped to create the spell pattern that propelled the carriages forward and left it with that.

“They’ll be changing your roost soon,” the copyette said.

“I doubt they’ll dare.”

“It has nothing to do with daring. The star’s considering it a surprise gift. To make you and the people in the building more comfortable.”

The explanation made full sense, and yet Aether didn’t approve of the idea. He wasn’t supposed to care. The Purple Moon had told him multiple times never to form attachments with individuals, but rather admire the overall flow. Of course, the Moon was a hypocrite. Like all the rest, he had his favorites, he observed. Ironically, the star pupil was one of them.

“I’ll tell them to stop,” he said.

“You better be ready to destroy the building. The star has already decided to lie to you and go ahead no matter what you say. Remember, it’s a “surprise,” the copyette moved her hands away from one another as she said the word, mocking the fashion in which the star pupil spoke. “She even mentioned it to your Moon.”

There goes one good spot, Aether thought.

If the First Mage’s grave marker wasn’t so low, he’d consider resting there. Of course, there was a chance that the new building didn’t turn out awful. A lot of the introduced “technology” was rather nice. It filled the city with a lot more magic strands, and for a being like Aether, that was a huge plus. The way things were going, as long as a person had magic, they could have the city do anything they could imagine, from cooking to heavy construction. Even those completely lacking the train could enjoy a large part of the benefits, which was the reason why so many people admired the star, often comparing her to the architect himself. Aether had no memory of the man, but based on the stories he’d heard, the comparison was laughable.

“Are you envious?” Aether asked.

“Envious? Me?” The copyette changed her appearance, matching that of the star pupil. “Just because human otherworlders are born without any limitations, while the rest of us have to work for it? Why should I be envious?”

There we go again. Aether promptly ignored her. One thing he never got used to was the complaints about things people couldn’t control. As far as he was concerned, it was like a ravine complaining it wasn’t as tall as a mountain. The Moon of Awakening was the humans’ patron, so it was natural that they would be granted a lot of benefits. The copyettes, for example, were the only race that could freely shapeshift and regarded that as perfectly natural, not to mention that they were vastly superior in spellcraft than all the rest.

“What’s this new contraption they are building?” Aether asked.

“A flying box,” the copyette replied.

“A flying box?” The bird looked at her.

“Don’t look at me. That’s how it was described. A flying box that would help anyone enjoy the sky just as much as furies. You could guess that didn’t go too well with the cloud section of the city. Things have calmed down, but cracks are forming. In order for all to enjoy something, some will have to make a few sacrifices. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the furies left Ekerol. Frankly, I’m surprised they haven’t done so already.”

“You say that because you’ve never been out of it. It’s boring out there. I’ve been to a few of the nymph cities.”

Personally, Aether considered them to be almost as bad as they had been before the creation of the city. Even with the knowledge and advances of Ekerol, the new settlements looked like beggar quarters. People had to hunt for their food, make their own clothes, often even fight for protection. There still were monsters out there; maybe not as many as there were before the age of Ekerol, but enough to make life somewhat risky.

“The way things are going, I just might. After taking the skies, the star plans to find a way to grant everyone use magic.”

“That’s not so—”

“But only magic she approves of.”

“Huh?”

“People will have a device that will be able to perform certain spells, even if the owner lacks the magic trait. The compromise is that it will also block any other type of spells even if one does have the trait. It’ll become like the carts all over again.”

That was another topic of contention. When the new wagons were introduced, they were supposed to make life better, and they did. However, it wasn’t too long after that standard roads were closed off for long distances. The argument was that since it was going to take ridiculously long for a person to go from one place to another by foot, or even on horseback, having them would only put people at risk. Technically, a few roads between structure clusters still remained, but they were becoming less and less.

“Galatea won’t agree with that.”

“Just as Felygn wouldn’t agree to objects without guardians?”

Aether found that the question angered him. Unlike the copyette, or most people for that matter, he knew that the Moons had rules they had to follow. There weren’t many of them, but blatantly interfering in the lives of people was one of them… at least on a major scale. Everyone had their followers they could help by making an exception or two.

“How do you know so much about the star?”

“I put echoes in any object I could get my hands on. A few bricks as well. Since the geniuses were so much for making guardianless items, there was nothing to stop my echoes from keeping an eye. Most of them hate me for it, but they know what’s at stake.”

That was a surprise. This was the first time that she’d mentioned using her echoes in such a fashion. There was nothing against it, but even so, there had to be something improper. People weren’t supposed to put their echoes in things they didn’t own. Being a mage, the copyette clearly took advantage of a loophole that wasn’t supposed to exist. Funny how such things could be applied outside the world of magic.

Aether didn’t bother to help with the star pupil’s latest contraption. Sadly, that didn’t even slow things down. As the years went by, the city changed more and more, becoming more magnificent, allowing people to do things they had only dreamed about. Yet just as the city became more advanced, it also went through a phase that had been unheard of since its creation: it started to shrink.

On the surface, it seemed like the support for the star was increasing, though that was only because of all the people who left. A large part of the furies were next to go, followed by the gorgons and copyettes. To Aether’s surprise, a lot of humans did so as well. It was the dwarves that mostly remained. Despite that, even they quickly were on the decline. Twenty years later, the majority of all eight city sections were inhabited mostly by humans, their numbers tripling. By then, there wasn’t a single part of everyday life that hadn’t been touched by the star pupil. More and more people would whisper that the star was equal to the architect and as such should hold more power than the Moons themselves. Meanwhile, the settlements outside Ekerol grew, becoming towns and cities in their own right. Ties with the glorious cities were severed, and once more the population of the world was fractured as it had been in the past.

Aether didn’t find that new. He had memories ranging millennia before Ekerol was even created, long before the architect was born, back when the races existed in crude small settlements in a wilderness of nothing. Kingdoms had formed and dissolved many times. There was no reason this should be any different. The Purple Moon had told him never to get attacked, so Aether didn’t. Yet, even so, he couldn’t get rid of the grain of sadness that had appeared when his companion left the city as well.