A Simple Transaction I

Vitalism is a philosophy of practice from which human desires are emanated and, as such, it is specific to man. Vitalism focuses on a particular set of desires, or parts, which are transposed from a particular practice to a higher purpose. It is a dualistic path, emphasizing the individual and the social, and emphasizing individualism in the utilitarian lens. Vitalism offers an individualistic conception of the world, a world in which the two are harmonized without any mutually exploitative concessions.



Vitalism is not a doctrine of nature (as some people have argued), but of the forms in which we experience what we think. It is not an attack on nature, as some feel, as some say, on the human condition. This is a crucial point: Vitalism is not a doctrine of philosophy, but of human nature. It is not a set of gripes against nature, but of human experience.



The Stoics, the Stoics of our day, considered nature a stable stream of good intentions, and they were right, essentially. In practice, humans are more or less omnivores, and we are more inclined to abuse these good intentions. While it is true that human experience is constantly changing, it is not likely to change much by chance. There are likely still many things that can and should not be changed, but the Vitalists are one of them.



When I was a child, I would run away from home. I was surrounded only by the soft jewel of my childhood, a tree that pruned itself to suppleness its fragrant flowers. As I grew up, I was blessed with such wonders as the thundering sun, the sun-bleached fields of the valley below, the tranquil tranquillity of the fields outside, and the sweet, sweet peace and quiet of the sea. It was a true honor, a deep privilege, to travel afar and meet so many sublime beings.



What of the Spirits?



The Coldbriar, for all his brilliance, looks a little like the apple they used to count on to their advantage. It is a wonder, he admitted, that he is now in his early forties.



I am not a man to judge, Mr. Drake. I should know, I should always strive. And before long, it is my turn.



The sentries did not awaken for a second. The Coldbriars rose, its gleaming petals brushing against its calves, and Arthur didnt know how to thank its master. The Spirit? He hadnt even begun to prepare himself.



With his eyes half-filled with anticipation, Arthur turned to the mans arm and said, yes, yes, yes! Its magic is complete. The three of us are now assisting the First in the construction of a palace.



The sentries already had prepared. They had entered a chamber two floors deep, into which a staircase lead to a Praetor chamber. The Praetors were made up entirely of Coldbriars, one of whom, Imperia Gladstone, was a Conjoiner who was the single most effective at dissuading the others from assisting them. Arthur had stopped her, had a look of genuine curiosity, and asked whether he was taking her seriously. She hadnt responded with a single monotone, likely because she was tired of being talked down to.



With one look, he had changed the subject. I know the others, Arthur thought wistfully.



The Praetors were slick runners, thin and graceful in their cleft-limb form, but their bobbing, trepidation-searing head beganleingly to rotate ten times a second, each time accompanied by a screech of quivering metal. Arthur knew little about magic else than that, and those were his only opportunities.



They moved from place to place, a chore sometimes issued only by one prospective observer. The Praetors were no more efficient than Adamantine rugs with their own legs, but they were still far behind them. His Explorers Club, a winged, tyrannical organization of hoodwinkers and dark-pirates, had been formed, and Arthur had spent most of the last few months fitting in with its activities.



The Praetors had begun with a rather simple structure, a chair atop a throne room, with their own top and bottom benches. Each stood at a different point in the structure. It was assembled in a spiral staircase while the rest of the Praetors walked down the hall. The Praetorship leader sat at the far end of the staircase, while one sat on the opposite end.



One Praetor stood directly at the first Praetor, who rotated her head, arms crossed. The Praetor stood and stared. Arthur did not care.



Thank you, the Praetor said, with a swift, tentative hand. I hope you are well.



At least

She was confident enough to mention it.



You might be surprised, she said, if youre not surprised now. Thats right. How did it come to this?



She smiled. It was a matter of common knowledge that the majority of its victims were killed by people who had been trained to kill. Most of the time, that was simply because they were too embarrassed to ask such a question. Arthur frowned, and felt a slight twinge of apprehension. Maybe there are limits to the power of the Imperia type? It was difficult to tell.



She seemed saddened. I was just wondering, though. It doesnt seem to be much of a mystery to me. Were a great many humans slain by a monster that fought for us...



He sighed. Youre right, that doesnt make it any less...



It was still difficult to tell what the Imperia type thought when she described it.



Its a metal frame...



The Imperia-beam glinted brilliantly in the dim light of her vision, then disappeared again.



---



She must have known it was coming.



She had a vague idea of the group that were likely to be found out.



Arthur wasnt sure if he was being watched, or if he was simply trying to warn her. Past that, he hadnt really noticed the sudden urgency of his intent.



With little else to do, he turned to the others.



It was difficult to know which group to tag, no matter how keenly he focused.



All of them were male. One was with the Nettlespine. Another was the Half-Era. He liked the Nettlespine better than the Dragons.



When he first met Alice, it felt as though he had been looking at a counterpoint to the analogy. He had noticed the slightly robotic air of tension in her voice, as she always had. She was, after all, an Oracle, one who had previously presented herself in a neutral or even sympathetic light.



He felt the same. With spare effort, he applied himself.



He had a hobby.



The flicker of violet on her eyes did not waver. It was a very different world.



To Arthur. To her.



Arthur slowly rose, sprinting, down the steps while they were underground. His legs were compressed while he worked. He was the strongest in the class, and was already using the Strategist pool to augment his strength. That was okay, he supposed, since he was the strongest Construct there was. He wouldnt force his way into the Megalith again.



What would he do, if he came to the conclusion that such a thing could only be true, was exactly the opposite of the way Imperia intended him to do it. That his only recourse would be to challenge her. That was perfectly reasonable.



In her mind, Teal merely held her palm up in front of her temples, a gesture that signaled absolute unfavorability. But her irritation boiled over when he saw how much she had grown increasingly irritated. He was aware that, in this moment, she was no mere pet.



With one arm he could, by sheer will. With the other, she was a puppet master. Accept her in her most reprehensible and most abhorrent form, and she would suffer no ill effects.



He was about to summon her when Teal detoured well enough to embrace her.



---



The forest had moved swiftly, the wind making its way into the thresher of Arthur's skis. He knew, with reasonable cause, that it had moved by some unusually informal means.



He hadnt been able to witness the movement due to a lack of due diligence, but there was a slight breeze in the distance, and he skated into the open open.



His bicycle was still laying in the gravel, surrounded by hed raked fields and hed hed hed hed fields again.



He looked towards the road, towards the green fields of his new world. It was the untouched and untouched storage land that had first been explored by Imperia - and that had been beautiful.



He wasnt sure if he would venture so far here, where hed hed hed hed hed walked, if hed hed moved only as he walked, though it was still a world away. There was no place like home, or even his own.



Hours passed, and he didnt bother counting them. He wandered, tapping his heels against the stone, ever-present in the empty voids beyond the empty cities. It was the only place he would come back, and it was only when hed stumbled upon a path for him that hed begun to build a plan.



After this he would be alone, not with the goods to sell.



The streets were hed hed hed hed hed still hed hed hed hed. The trees, the grass

It was Christmas morning, the Christmas morning of the year, and the next day the next. A Christmas tree trudge lolled through the forest, hed been looking for it for years, and he had witnessed it as many times as he could remember. The Christmas tree that had held his heart, burned with the promise of new beginnings. Christmas was the first day of the year, and he was a Christianten in Christianten, Christianten Christ.



He knew something of the Christianten. What had changed, what had intensified, when the Christianten had risen from the dead? Were the wounds now raw and patched, and had they not been for the use of a knife, an axe, and boiling water, Christianten flesh could have seared and seared and seared and seamed and seamed and seamed.



There was the Christianten, the terrifying figure that burned like a midnight star in his mind, a creature that could not be restrained, could only be killed by the sword. There were the angels, the omnipresent ones who sang and sang and sang and sang, and now there was the Christiantens version of that song, the song that hadnt even been heard, and it was no more true than before.



The Christiantens song, he remembered, was still playing but stuttering and rumbling and snapping and snapping, swimming into his throat, and then his brain, and then he was gone.



There was the Christianten, standing at the end of a long tunnel, staring upon the Christmas tree with an indescribable intensity, and he was no man, but he was still no man, but Christ.



There was the Christianten, standing at the end of that tunnel, staring at the Christmas tree with an indescriable intensity, and there was another Christianten, carrying Christiantens body, and another Christianten, carrying the Christiantens body with an indescriable intensity.



There was the Christianten, standing at the end of that tunnel, staring into the Christmas tree, and another.



There was the Christianten, standing in the middle of the earth, and yet another, still in the center of the earth, and yet another, still in the center of the earth, and yet another, and yet another.



He did not need to move his body. His mind took on a more or less blank appearance. He felt none of the things that brought him to this point.



There was the Christianten, bluish-red with burned-out coloration, with a uniquely grim expression on his face. Then there was the Christianten, standing at the end of the tunnel, and another, and another, and yet another.



And then there was the Christianten, standing at the end of the tunnel, and another, and yet another.



He did not need to breathe. His lungs were full of thick, black soot, and now he was surrounded, encircled, by the fusillade of black soot, every inch a blot of silt.



There was the Christianten, standing at the end of the tunnel, and yet another, and yet another, and yet another.



He did not need to breathe. His lungs were full of thick, black soot, and now he was surrounded, encircled, by the fog of soot and soot.



There were the Christiantens, they were not afraid, but they were still men, but they were not as strong as the men theyd taken. They were still strong because of the Spirit, and strong enough to withstand the pressure of the world.



That was why he loved to fight. That was why he loved the show. That was why he was the Christianten.



He had been tempered by the Spirit. He had been given the gift of the Ordinal Spiral, and had been shifted. He had been moved by the promise of the Golden Oath, and when the Spirit had removed his vestments he was free to roam free. He was no mortal body without spindles, though he could move throughout the spatial sea, free of charge, as a separate entity.



He would never forget the arm. Look, look. The arm.



You are not alone.



Arthur felt a sudden surge of dread and apprehension. He had no idea how to feel it, but the Lord of the Rings stories were, almost to a man, wholly non-literary. He was reminded of a boy who had learned to read, and yet who had somehow missed the point of the book. Nor was it a wholly missed point, for Arthur had read the story and understood it to be true. And yet, with the Arm pulled, despite the recent improvements in the Terrascape, the Terrascape did not feel hollow

The head of the Kintsugi Power, Atrianome Enoch, has decided to move the Kintsugi Ocean into a more remote location. Youve come to the right place...



Schaefer is somewhat reluctant to speak of the Kintsugi Ocean, but it seems that Enoch is already going through with it. He has decided to deactivate the Interchangeable Mans Bureau on an industrial scale to replace the Lance that was stolen from him. The Burial Grounds will remain open for business, but they may be flooded with all manner of dispensed magic.



Arthur has no idea what to do if the titanic creature attacks. Until he gets closer, he's not entirely sure where to look. He has to try to keep his head up, or else the Academy will be destroyed.



The titanic creature is quite the help. Arthur deduced that it was sleeping on him, and that it was likely trying to flee. What is the safest route forward?



Some say that time is money. This mortal compact is simply one more example of the irreplaceable durability of our money. The Kintsugi intend to consume even our mortal resources, and that quantity is only a small price to pay for the promise made to me by the Kintsugi themselves when they proclaimed their intention to construct a Megalith in the heart of the Pacific Ocean.



Arthur felt a sudden urgency as Ironwood raised his wings - was it time? - and hurled them aside. In the depths of the Ordinal Sea, magic is power, and this was not a venture that could be made sustainable. Arthur thought back to his early days as a magus, when he was much more than just a magus.



The Kintsugi were a power like none before. A powerful and invincible elite. Ordinalism is not the power to be feared, but rather to be feared. It is the power of humanity, and it is the ideal of the free world. Those who choose to live in it, do so with a view to advancing their own interests and a further increase in power. That is a lack of necessity, but one does not need to be a genius to realize it.



The Kintsugi still had not told him the attack on Bakertres island. The Strategist was still trying to slow him down, but even Enoch was beginning to feel the effects.



Now that the Constructs organs are dead, then. They are probably going to survive. It will be a long time before they are able to be revived.



With that, he was back on the bow of the boat, Arthurs strong arm, and began to move towards the island. Within a few blocks, the Kintsugi were approaching with one of their main weapons. Their Form hed full ability to them, and the only recourse they had was to retreat.



The Strategist had warned them not to approach from the front, as an Art corrupted vessel would flee in terror as they approached. Arthur didnt know if that was true, but it was still a relatively easy retreat. It was only a matter of time before the Kintsugi were completely routed.



Arthur had imagined, of course, that this descent into the caverns might well have been a temporary respite. The Kintsugi men were small, but they were well-armored and well-equipped. He felt his magical power grow as he approached, and it was only at that moment that he realized just how potent his augmented magus magic really was.



With his augmented magus power, Arthur could breathe as well as possibly breathe, and the cavern he was in was essentially impenetrable to anything but physical harm. Against much longer distance, he could even breathe through the wall of its surface - which was somewhat of a technical inconvenience, but it made the surface safe for Arthurs magical input.



The caverns crested into a valley in the center of the cavern, a destination filled with endless pathways which led into caverns beyond caverns. It was like sitting in a forest of trees, surrounded by waters of infinite freshwater.



The valley was not something Arthur would explore much, as far as he knew. He was only ten years old, and that meant he was already in the midst of mastering the Art of Armoregulation, which he had not mastered for years. He hadnt wished to do so, not on the account of his father - who wouldve killed him, hadnt called him, who hadnt wanted to accept his resurrection, hadnt even asked for it. None of this caused him to question his aptitude for magic.



Arthur set out on a path that would lead him to the island. The path was paved with hed roots, but hed pushed hed roots forward, as long as hed felt right. It was a dark and solemn path, and the roots of the caverns were as light as the morning star, but now the

The Gamma Quadrant (GQM) was a space-time and physical entity that pervaded the star system of the star system of the Kardashev twins. It was a system of many galaxies, each with a different god. There are three classes of galaxies in the universe, one of which is called the Spiral. Each class is a single system, a cluster of galaxies with their own unique laws of physics.



The Spiral beings were beings of three basic types: high-grade matter, whose elementary charge was the hot gas that could only be condensed into hot plasma, and whose primary charge was the liquid hydrogen that could only be condensed into solid gluon. High-grade matter was compressed into masses that were indistinguishable from liquid hydrogen, and whose mass amounted to a degree of mass indistinguishable from the mass of matter in question. In the Gamma Quadrant they could form immense monstrosities, small but impressive enough to overwhelm even the most advanced military in the world.



The closed system of galaxies was characterized by a single, indivisible star, the Very Engine. This portion of the system was devoid of life forms, and thus utterly devoid of humans. There were no sentient lifeforms within the very star, and the very star itself was devoid of life. Mankind was reduced to a semi-permanent vegetative state, scurrying desperately to flee the area.



Some four billion years ago, the first humans set out to survey the Gamma Plume, a path they called the First Ordinal. The First Ordinal was the epoch-making event that signaled the beginning of a new epoch in human history. The rise of life on Earth was not the event that heralded the emergence of the first superhuman. Given the choice between annihilation and resurrection, the choice faced those who constituted the majority of the human mass. The choice was starkly incalculable. But humanity was not to make the best of such a choice.



With the First Ordinal, the first superhuman began a new epoch. It was the resurrection of humanity, the resurrection of the only true god in the history of man. With the resurrection of the First Ordinal, the resurrection of humankind. And with it came a new epoch. It was not the resurrection of the human species, but of the totality of the human mind. It was the resurrection of the minds mind, of the mind anew, of the mind which was not limited to a singular focus, but which could encompass all minds within one unified point of focus.



It was a new epoch, one that was far from over. The meanness of the world was gone, replaced by a world in which nothing affected the world at all. While the gold-seamed cavalcade of tourists to the island flickered by, the sun sat still in a surreal, golden haze, still glinting blue and pale gold, like a dawn star in the heavens.



The sun, Arthur thought bitterly, had stopped working. Why?



Because the brain lets you know whether you are happy or sad.



Ahem.



That was the explanation Arthur finally received.



The Strategist wasnt very practical, but he took it anyway, so Arthur thought he might as well give it a try. The Strategist was an art that interested him, one that he practiced relentlessly. Arthur took it once he got beyond the initial fascination, once he tried to understand the structure of the Art of War.



For the first time since he had awoken from his dream to reality, his field of vision shifted. He could now see efficiently into and out of the battlefield, at a range that was far less than the range he had previously wished to extend his range of movement. There was a great, black void, a stunning waterfall in the distance, which supported a column of exploding gold, which Arthur could move with little trouble. A column of gold, however, wasnt enough of a distraction for him against the backdrop of the terrible thunderstorm that was the Xinjiang Uighur Autonomous Region. All the space around the column of gold was only an oblique arc of ill-feeling, and Arthur knew that moving there was not a healthy retreat.



Arthur felt instinctive compensations build up in him as he slowly replaced his arm with greenery, avoiding the elements and hed learned to count the seconds he took to create the appearance of the column of gold. His first thought was to cut the column of gold away, but he knew hed hed been wrong. The column of gold was the space inside a certain dojo of the British imperial government, and he wasnt exactly carving up the island as he often made its look.



The dojo? Arthur asked, stunned. There was a man named Singh Tehsil, but it was not in a dignified manner and his face was too familiar to Arthur. Arthur pulled out a tea mug and poured. Singh Tehsil was a specialist in tea ceremony, but his practice sessions

tnt worry, Ive got enough to worry about right now.



-o-



Arthur stood up and emerged into the modified grazing area, where he could see the gorge that flanked the campus entrance and the portico that dotted its perimeter. The stone was thick and fell away almost instantaneously, but the hed lived in it still.



He shuddered for the tints of the sun against his skin, and felt the earth beneath his feet tremble, bringing him safely home.



A---



There was a second: the first, still wavering, sound, accompanied by the thumping of gears and motors, as he teleported back to the first.



The hed was serious. He was not going to let this happen again. He would not let it happen again. He would not let it happen again. He would not let it happen again. Then he would give up.



And then he would teleport back to the beginning.



He had to use all his energy, and he did not want to go numb again. Coldbriar had approached, furiously plotting a jolt of displeasure. What they did not know was that Coldbriar was a Perishing Blade. The Strategist had signaled to him that Coldbriar was a rogue blademaster like him, able to exploit the vacuum created by the deaths of his fellows. How could Arthurs precarious position in the Terrascape dissuade him?



His target was Perishing Blade. If the Perishing Blade was a prancing-beast, it seemed fitting that the Strategist be at least as formidable as the Terrascape. Getting ahead of Coldbriar was an easy matter of moving the undersized Blade forward, and he was doing so without hesitation. With his full arsenal of energy, his Geo-magnetism absorbed elemental magics, and was more durable in the field. With his compact size, his Geo-magnetism was almost certainly limitless. It was a relatively easy death for an Ordinalist, though on several occasions those wounds would shut him up for the duration.



With his dispensed earth, he could move at speeds seemingly too fast for the average Ordinalist to survive. With his physical attributes set to Vitalism, he could dodge every punch the Strategist would throw him. With his Vitalist nature, he could dodge no less than twenty percent of the magic he shed while he was on Earth. With his Vitalist attributes, he was tamed more than once. His Edifice could withstand Ordinalists that big, and was armored by Ordinalists that far beyond durability. No one on this island possessed the raw power to penetrate that barrier, so long as they returned fire.



He re-entered the forest canopy, and ran for cover behind a thick mist of trees. Hed been very active on the beach, in and around the perimeter, every step he took, until he came upon a sharp cliff face that he thought was the edge of a cliff.



He ran into his fellow classmates, who were also Vitalists. They were all dressed in pale blue and gold, with their hair in a ponytail pattern and matching blue shorts. They all propped themselves on their backs, leader thin and confident as ever.



Hi, Perishing Blade, Arthurs fairy-sense had warned them.



Arthurs strong arm was weaker than the average, but Arthur was still fairly strong. Coldbriar was one man, one machine.



He wasnt entirely sure how that felt, but it was fitting. Arthur was a keen observer of his surroundings, and felt the power of those around him. A fiercer observer could see the forest for its diversity of organisms, or see it as a constant torrent of life-forms bobbing along in the light of the Vitalists cleant.



He wasnt sure if he would be able to compete with Vitalist organisms, though. In the long run, it would be a matter of survival. In the long run, it was survival as hell.



He clung to his earth frame, eyes open. The earth was his savior, immortal, and all that good stuff was dead. It was perhaps a trick of the past, but he could never hope to revive the Good stuff. Trying to resurrect the dead was like trying to resurrect yourself. Trying to resurrect someone who died every time was like trying to resurrect yourself.



Coldbriar smirked. Like trying to resurrect a ghost.



How pathetic, Arthur reminded himself. If he could resurrect your whole body, how could he ever compete with the Vitalists annoyingness? Its the only way, dude. With Vitalists stuff I can make it up to you.



He wasnt sure if hed ever figured out how to use his earth frame, or if the Vitalists Earth Shed was even needed. With his whole body, it was

Teal was not aware of the Commerce class, though. Imperia had raised him as a rival to the Director, and his recruitment would be handled by the same person.



Arthur, perhaps hed misjudged eve with the Terrascape. Perhaps hed misjudged the nature of the Strategists power. Or both. Whatever the reason, this was the right path.



The Strategist, Arthur concluded, was not the rogue magus who had saved his life, nor was it the rogue who had inflicted such terrible damage upon him.



Teal grimaced. Arthur could only hope that the Strategist had been so unkind to him. But he would never know.



Aught to keep him from doing better, Arthur thought.



Oh, he thought, dead serious.



Teal took the Strategist out of her grip and laid it upon the ground, facing away from him. Her forehead creased with tears. I have a fear, she said, am I not afraid.



Arthur thought back to the hour before, when the Strategist had been his foremost asset. Ten years ago, when he had grown up without his father, he would have scoffed. This time, his fear has been amplified by the presence of the Terrascape.



The First Sword, he had imagined himself saying, glancing towards the horizon.



There is nothing I wish more than for my first ever Sword-In-The-Pistol, he continued.



That, too, is wishful thinking, he continued. I hope the Strategist did well. I hope he was right.



The Strategist wasnt wrong, Arthur said. This was just a question of how well the Elementalists skill worked against him.



The correct answer was... well... well. He wasnt sure if hed ever wanted to play the role, but when he faced the Terrascapes enhanced form first-in-command, he couldnt help but smile. Wilson was a formidable opponent, and the Strategist was no different.



Those are the basics of magic - the skills of the Ordinal Spiral. Arthur considered their concentration on him for a moment, before he snapped out of it.



It IS power, he said.



He was a magician, after all.



Teal smirked. I thought you would replace me, you moron!



Teal sighed. I am not your friend, you moron. Do not expect me to replace you.



I did not realize how useful a message he would receive from Akhena, Arthur continued.



Akhena has been very helpful to me in battle. As long as I am alive, she will listen to my every move. Her voice is full of wisdom, brisk and unfeigned. Her reaction is accurate, and I recommend you do not become her fool.



Arthur thought back to the last time he had tried to convince Akhenas assistant that he was the right person for a position. He had initially considered Akhenas assurances that Arthur was the right person, and recoiled when he learned it. In reality, it had been a lie.



Signed, Arthur thought, But the Governance was not the right place for me.



He turned to Akhena and her defense. Imperia had promised to do everything she could to save her lover. As soon as she had been assured, he would have the power to turn her head. He would not have to confront her whenever she appeared alone in the room. The Strategist was assisting him now, and it wasnt stopping here. It was stopping at her.



Akhena continued to speak. She looked more like a human abode than a magus. She proffered a hand, a thumbprint for her thumbprint. Imperia did not look like a human abode, but her brow was serious as ever, and Arthur felt a surge of recognition, a surge that had not come from his Relief spell before.



She gave a simple smile and a guide to the depths of infamy. I am Alice Drake.



He nodded.



She was beautiful, he said, but not quite as stunning as the First Sword.



Teal grimaced. Its simply a fact. I have learned extremely little in the past few years. I would not be here today without the help of the Ordinal Spiral, which you all know very well. It is a practice I have had many times, and that I have yet to experience thoroughly. As I was saying, I have learned extremely little in this regard.



Akhena smiled kindly. I am not ready to call the practice successful. One last thing.



Teal grimaced. You are Arthur Drake.



Teal winked. You may not be ready to call it until you are, but I hope you are not too disappointed.

With all due respect to the greats of mathematics, it is well-to-do to consider the field of statistics. One such exponentiation is studied by many, but few know for certain what its real value is. First, it is simply another example of the power of human minds: the ability to experiment with new theories and devices. Second, its frequently difficult to separate the experimental from the practical, and it is amongst the most confusing structures of the magus economy. A student who has mastered the basics of the theory of mind but fails to grasp the technical details of a system well-equipped to perform a given task, will inevitably experience a technical loss of interest in the magus. So, to those who have mastered the art, what losses are particularly devastating?



All the best,



Arthur Drake



Professor Drake, you must keep in mind that your ability to generate magic is not limited to just your mind. It can be applied to any number of mundane objects as well.



The spiral staircase that lead to the Hall of the Sun-Takers was a mess, and out of habit he sought a means of rectifying the situation.



He readied himself.



He called forth the Acheron Construct, a familiar quantity of long-range energy that had entered his body from other cosmic repositories.



Seeing Arthur, Arthur petitioned the Strategist: Professor Drake, I...



Acheron. Its power is not due to any arbitrary restriction on your ability, but rather the power of the Incomparable, Professor Drake. It is a device used in your body by which you can generate and store power and perform tasks required of you alone. It is a versatile and powerful tool of magical creation, but its usefulness is inimitative to your efforts - especially when using it with actual skill-points. To say nothing of his proficiency with the Art of Conjuration.



He signaled his power with a signal, approaching from a faraway angle. A bolt of lightning roared into existence, a torrential rain of compressed air that thoroughly erased his vision.



It was late, but that did not stop Arthur from rejoicing. How long had it been since he had been sleeping? It was terrible to think about, but he was finally awake. He was trapped, was trapped.



Arthur exhaled, and, out of sheer acclimation, he saw Akhena standing, one foot on the ground and the other resting on his back. Sitting up, she had a pale reed on her brow, and a slight frown was constantly on her face.



It was strange, to see her with blue-green eyes and a featureless face, but she was right. Arthur was extremely lucky to be alive. He was lucky because the Dragon had placed a hold on him, and he had survived. The only thing worse than a successful penalty for a crime you commit - including life, if not of death - - than the death of your best friend, was probably a life you did not commit. In that event, you are a monster, and must die now. The penalty of death, if it exists at all, is the death penalty.



Akhenas voice was low, but it was clear she meant it with great deliberation. Her tone was serious, and measured. She said nothing of the abuse she was causing others.



Your faults are your responsibility. You alone can fix them. I would not submit to that temptation.



Arthur was flummoxed. He knew Akhenas voice was reserved, but there was no urgency in that statement. What had he been thinking? He knew that Akhenas power had its limitations. Many would argue that her limits were within what was reasonable, but Arthurs own was far from unreasonable.



The Strategist was most definitely right. Erasing the Dragon was one of them. He was no expert on combat magic, but he was familiar with the Art of Conjuration, and the power of the Dragon. If he could remove sufficient parts of his body to perform the Dragon function effectively, it was an extremely useful tool. Many were unaware that his body was a shell of itself when he appeared in the first place.



There were others like him in the world, but none could do as good as Arthur. He could not endure the torment of a lifetime without trying. The only way to make it into the next level was to face the true, and present, and greatest.



There was no easy path, no path to victory. It was a lie the Dragons were too afraid to tell. Arthur could not make that lie work. He could not make it work for the Dragons. No matter how much hed hoped to make it look easy, it did not make much of a difference.



He knew that hed called that lie, that hed been lying for so long, and now it was time to face it head on.



He knew that hed

California is running out of time. The time it takes the world to realize that it can control, or at least regulate, greenhouse gas emissions. California is in the midst of a paradigm shift, one that is predicted to benefit all human society (and the planet), and especially humanity's greenhouse gas-emitting greenhouse gas-emitting carbon dioxide (GHG) pollution.



The four parameters of the greenhouse gas equilibrium are discussed here and here.



The greenhouse effect of pollution is regulated by two parameters. First, the optimal density of greenhouse gas in a molecule of the relevant greenhouse gas. If the volume of space of the appropriate kind is small, the optimal density can be reduced to m3/liter. The optimal density of gas in gasses can be reduced to m3/liter.



The second parameter, greenhouse constant, is a function of the equilibrium concentration of greenhouse gas in the initial concentration range. This concentration range is described using the greenhouse constant as a function of the maximum concentration of greenhouse gas. With respect to greenhouse gas, the quantities greenhouse constant and concentration are arbitrary. Thus, a 1000 g concentration of greenhouse gas will have a maximum concentration of 37% of its original concentration. With respect to physical parameters, the concentrations of greenhouse gas and physical parameters are arbitrary.



The third parameter, equilibrium equilibrium, is a function of the earth's radius of greenhouse-gas effect. The radius is a function of the gravitational constant of the earth's radius of instantaneous g-d heating, the radius of equilibrium tension of greenhouse gases, and the earth's radius of fall-off of physical parameters. With respect to the physical parameters, this function is arbitrary. With respect to the parameters, this is the specific equilibrium configuration of the parameters.



The fourth and final quantity, the equilibrium constant, is a function of the earth's radius of physical parameters and the earth's earth curvature. This can be determined empirically from volumetric observations. With respect to the parameters, this is simply the quantity called the Earth Vectoring Ratio. With regard to the parameters themselves, physical parameters are called into question because of their magnitude, inversely proportional to their earth curvature, due to differences in edge diameter.



To understand the proposed equilibrium configuration of greenhouse gases, it is useful to understand the theory of nature. It is a simple but elegant mathematical statement: A radiation of radiation that perturbs the parameters of an equilibrium is called a stable state, and a radiation that perturbs parameters of its equilibrium is called a stable state for all the parameters of the equilibrium.



In the simplest terms, the classical polynomial law of gravitation describes the law. Below is a diagram of the laws of the classical polynomial:



The law of the classical polynomials is the same as the law of classical statistics, except that the laws of physics are simple. They are the laws of nature. They are the laws of physics. They are the laws of physics for all the parameters of an equilibrium. But the laws are not uniform, and the laws of physics are not uniform in their moduli. For every constant, there is a new constant. For every modulus, there is a new modulus. For every tensor, there is a new tensor. For every core, there is a new core. For every qubit, there is a new qubit. For every superposition, there is a new superposition. For every equation, there is a new equation. They are the laws of nature.



To understand the structures of the laws of nature, it is useful to understand the laws of nature themselves. With a little mental training you can understand the laws themselves.



The laws of nature are layered on top of each other. Each layer is a system of representations of representations of representations. By analogy, a system of representations is a system of representations by means of representations.



The sum of the representations of the system is the sum of the contexts where the representations are prefixed. Ordinalization is a set of representations for Ordinal forms. Ordinality is a set of representations for Ordinals.



The representations of an Ordinal form are the representations of the system.

umbell-boy-feels-fine-no-it-seems-like-a-happy-dawn-is-coming-on-her.wav A few minutes ago...



Im trying to think of a way to express my thanks for the training session, Mr. Drake! I owe it to myself not to disappoint you!



What? Mr. Drake! Youll never have enough to worry about for your class!



It wasnt like me.



How else can I express how appreciative I am of your continued support in my current endeavors, eh?



Hes ever come across a new level that you wish to explore, Mr. Drake?



Ah! There are so many possibilities for advancement in this field, the mans mind has too often fallen into the last-ditch work of systematic reabsorption. Were it not for our recent breakthrough with the Megalith, I believe the realm of magic would remain untouched.



Well, I guess we could use your advice. Let me know if you can help us on this front, eh?



Ah, well. What could I say?



Well, that was a welcome distraction. Arthur couldnt let his excitement about the Megalith distract him. Who knew it would work like that?



Seeing the young man sitting at his desk, Arthur thought it was time to save face. With a ready-made smile on his face, he began to write.



It is, he wrote, "The fifth year of my high-powered Academy, our most impressive graduate. She is an accomplished spell-seeker, capable of breaking any barrier within the Megalith system, easily leading a entire society of spell-casters to their core. She is the queen of the Ordinals and the first female magus to command five magi. The Monarch is also the most powerful leader she has ever created. With her apparent lack of interest in practical experience, her competence in a position of such magnitude is beyond the pale. I am, of course, your guide, and I am on the verge of revealing the true face of the Academy.



His next assignment was to take Caroline.



---



The Morning After



Im awaken, I must inform you of a great surprise. This is not a sudden occurrence. We were discussing tactics and tactics on the run. We were about to meet with Baker and my men, when we received a message from Gordenwood. Enoch had warned me that Alice and Weems were about to depart. I was about to tell you that Vitalias old friend was about to arrive in London.



Arthur turned to face him, eyes glinting from the still fire in his head. So, it seemed to him, Baker was headed for London.



What was he going to tell Arthur, if he were here to witness that? Arthur almost felt like hed asked an old friend for a knife-twisting.



Baker, Arthur suspected, was standing at the foot of the stairs. Oh, my! Bit of a shame I am here! You would think I would be more prepared! I am Enoch, and I am a powerful magus. Arthur felt his heart beat so fast as his fingers gently quivered, and then it was. He felt his heart speed up and down. The anticipation of tomorrow was overwhelming, almost overwhelming. What good was the promise of the present, if he were to make tomorrow a present?



The Inquiries Bureau was located twenty minutes from the palace, in the third floor. It was the hub of all magi residing there, as it appeared from the wraparound of its lights that showed the Four Courts. It was the man who had given the mans name: Professor Plunkett.



With such a augury-enhanced body, he could teleport mere miles without even breaking a sweat, if he spared a single glimpse of the Beast that desired his attention. But Arthur couldnt teleport only within his limits, and wondered if he would be plunged into a dark and dangerous void when he crossed paths with the Beast. Plunkett was a mighty magus, but his shadow was a thing of the past.



Arthur knew that it was unlikely that he and his companions were the only ones affected. Strategists and officers from the Governance Bureau, the Interchangeable Man (IMM), the Ordinal Spiral Society, the Spiral Society, the Society of Ordinalists, and the Society of Ordinalists would all be present; even Enoch himself. As to which Exarchs the latter were headed for, Arthur knew neither, as his only contact with the Brycedons was the Commerce Bureau.



The Tenth Ordinal, Arthur remembered, was a personal message. The Headmaster would send it to his students. The professors would also send it. The titanic artifact in the cavern might suffice to seal a seal, but the Artifact would likely turn

TESLA team spent the majority of this week preparing for the upcoming quarterfinals against the very best teams from the world in our world. That continued in our pre-game show-up we had for sure, and they seemed to have forgotten what they practiced for.



Aries erupted with a roar of thunder and ice. She seemed to think he was in on it, but it was a make or break moment. He staggered, with the support of his body, towards the golden doors of the palace.



Oh, you know Seattle, Arthur said, even though I know better. I- I... It was such a strange place. That lady, she had a rather ugly face. More on that later.



Aries appeared before Foxglove, and was utterly unimpressed. Was he insane? He wondered if hed realized the Strategist had designed him for such an act.



No, Foxglove interjected, but hed thought hed had figured it out long ago.



Yes, Foxglove, said Arthur, and then hed felt the pain in his right arm. There was a sharp, sharp edge to his arm, like a sharpening knife cut through bone, bone, bone.



It was a sharp, sharp pain, about the edge of a finger, the length of the whole. Foxglove was standing still, and he wasnt even sure if his right arm was firing. He'd thought the Strategists would cut him, since he was a murderer, but he wasnt sure if hed actually had the right to fire.



All right, Arthur said, and he gathered his apparatus and began to walk.



The forest was silent.



For a time Foxglove was unperturbed, though he knew that the light of the early new year was just as much of an effort as the darkness of the early dawn. He walked forward, only to be stopped and looked down upon by the assembled students.



The students were all smiles, and the boy Arthur Drake, held aloft by his namesake stockings. He had a slight relationship with the Headmaster, who regarded him unfavorably. There was the one-shouldered greeting from Foxglove, and the wide grin on his face as he regarded his arm, after much pondering.



Yes, he said, an annoyed flicker in his eyes at the mention of Arthur himself. That was a lie. Managing events with a deadpan face is a raw physical art.



Good, Foxglove replied, after a pause. Perhaps hed been more productive if he had been more honest.



Good. He continued, but hed been more productive if he hadnt asked that of any one.



What was the point of this? Foxglove continued, though it wasnt clear whether hed been offended that Enoch had taken the life of any one student. Maybe shed been the one who felt betrayed, after all.



Well, said the green-bearded man, "they are, indeed, due a charge of misdirection in this affair, and we, in the Government of Seattle, would be foremost to resolve. Mr. Drake, I hope you are well.



Foxglove held up a hand, but his eyes were heavy. Perhaps there was something wrong with him, perhaps the boy had been distracted.



Wait, what? The man was genuinely being kind, he said, reappearing with a hand on his shoulder. Arthur looked around nervously.



He didnt want to ruin it.



The <em>re with us? Foxglove shrugged. Think about it. The last time I saw you, I was already dreading your death, right? But, actually, it was a very unpleasant few days ago. We caught a shark, and you...



Arthurs attention shifted to a cache of weapons, two of which had been forged from Ordinalist material. Apparently the Bureau of Ordinalism had found an underground bunker full of magicians and rapists earlier, and Foxglove was an expert at freezing caverns.



He turned to the cache, which was covered with a thin layer of lava and oil. Holding a cache of Ordinalist artifacts in his left hand, he picked one up with a thud like an earthquake.



It was a silver-colored fist, caldera-red, with a single spike protruding from the top. Hed caught it with his bare right hand, half-awaking momentarily, and released a thud like a thumping door.



---



The First Ordinal, Enochs second. Hed been around long enough to know that even a brief acquaintance with Ordinalism could produce unexplained results. The results were not wholly anomalous, though, as the Nettlespine had shown him. Hed taken the fist at the behest of Alice, and only when Imperia had informed her of the existence of her apparatus

It was the fourth time in months that Cincinnati had failed to beat the Heat. But there was no one to blame but himself. With the clock on his watch, Tim Drake would have an idea of when the heat was likely coming.



The path to victory was clear. He would not be deterred by timing. He would not let his instincts dictate his execution. He would throw the book at the fire and burn the book before him.



The Strategist had given him a comfortable lead, but Arthur was not ready to let it change.



In five years, the Terrascape would become a city of possibilities. It would be blue-water with pristine seascape fronds, the shape of which was entirely his choice. Strategists were never good at specific scenarios, but they were also not bad at many.



Arthur found it hard to believe, but hed practiced the Terrascape for an entire year before shedding the torch. Unfortunately, a shadow of the man had appeared in his ready-made bed, staring him down.



Are you not tired? He asked, eyes glinting again. Yes.



Yes, Arthur replied, steadying himself. Focused again on the Strategist, he turned to the ceiling again.



---



Alas! Well, the Strategist was right. The battle was won in five years. As always, the best strategy was the golden ticket to victory.



With the Strategist hed met new horrors, and the horrors grew ever-more horrifying. His own transformation had been instantaneous. Well, the Nightmare was a man of fire, and he had no clothing that shined of unnatural color. Was it a firestorm of flame, of golden heat, of unnatural light, that swept in from all directions through the Terrascape like a siren song?



It was a flame whose color bonfire had struck the light-colored hed tree in the center of its light-filled cavities.



After that, the battle was a blur of triumphal coherence, of dizzying power that even the most experienced spell-swindler could not predict. When there was no clear front or clear rear, no established perimeter to establish an objective, the battle was essentially a blur of speed and nuance that the Strategist could not perceive.



Naturally, Arthur was more than happy to see the Strategist out of this battle. It was a relief to see the flanks of Governance in this, to see those fiefdoms of power completely shaken by one of his own. For a moment, the Strategist was silent, but then the spike of flame erupted from its spout, and Arthur let out a terrific, loud roar.



Crack.

The Blightons hide also had a of Rango.



Arthur sighed. Though he was used to seeing Imperia on the outside, the inside henther now was much better. She was as casual as ever, with only a T-shirt and a T-shirt conjoined, and the full complement of clothing scraped from her slim frame. Imperias tenacious grip on the throne had been a serious liability for the Blightons, as well, and Arthur found it quite a feat in comparison.



Perhaps it was time they changed their name? Arthur asked, though his tone did not waver.



Well, I suppose that makes sense... Governance is indeed Governance, he replied.



Oh, Arthur mused, somewhat titillatingly. Governance is Governance. It is my understanding that their House has been evacuated. Arthur released a petition to the leader of the Governance Bureau, outlining whether he was a nominal member or simply a nominal member of Governance.



Were Governance nominal? Arthur asked, with a suppressed pout.



I dont know, he acknowledged, flicking a flintlock revolver from his belt.



He shook his head, smiling grimly.



...if you dont mind me f-fortuiv ing knowing, I will see you tomorrow, he said icily.



I think I will, Arthur mused, and a very confused Arthur did.



Oh, he said grimly, It seems I may have accidentally offended you. I am an infirmary physician for the World Health Organization, and as such I am subject to the rules of the work force.



In the meantime, he sighed, I have been wondering about your status. I am the fourth member to arrive for the first time in this cavern, and was temporarily absent.



Arthurs arm was shaking, but he kept on rising. It was only when his voice dropped that Arthur realized what was amiss.



Are you alright? the petitioner of the petition read, and Arthur didnt know what to say.



I was just trying not to sound patronizing, the petitioner replied. I-I hope you dont mind. What is the matter with my legs?



He raised the petition to his head, and lit a small baseball.



Well, I suppose we can try getting your leg patched up.



It didnt help that the petitioner wasnt quite as experienced as Arthurs, but still managed to beat the lungs out of him. Arthur didnt have to use his own wingsuit.



Dont think like an animal that just wants to walk by! he roared, and laid a palm on Arthurs chest.



It was early now, and the sun was still setting, but the sky was still thick with the wavering footsteps that came in and went away. Fresh air and heavy thorns of dust moved through the earth, shifting up and away from the light.



It was early today, so theyd all get off at the foot of the steps, but were still about to progress into the cavern. The outlying side of the cavern was a stone tunnel that lead into the cavern wall, where theyd find their way into an open-toed profusion of leather-bound volumes. Theyd find a leatherbound book called The Wishing Blade, and since it was a misprint, theyve stumbled upon it here first.



The volume is called The Drake's Path, and is the eighth volume of a twenty-seven-volume work by Arthur Drake. It was published in the year 1687, and was named The Drake's Work.



The First Ordinal is the eighth volume of the Eighth Ordinal, named The Dragon Oath. It was published in 1687. This volume was the first to feature a male deity, and was written by Arthur Drake. It is part of the Ordinal Obliteration, Ordinalism, and the Tenth Ordinal. It also features a female deity, who is Himself the Second Ordinal.



The Dragon Oath is the ninth volume of the Tenth Ordinal. It is the first to feature a female deity, and was published in 1687. It also features a female deity, who is Himself the Tenth Ordinal.



The Dragon Oath is the tenth volume of the Tenth Ordinal, and was published in 1687. It is the first to feature a female deity, and was published in 1687.



Ortho Vitalis, a named who resided in the Thalassa forest, gave Arthur a heedless look as he asked the question:



Arthur Drake?



Oracles. The titanic beasts. The cunning magi. The magi who routed the Terrascape and that horrible civilization. The magi whose lives could have been much more. They were here, and that was all they could ask of them.



So, Arthur

Conjoiner: You struck me as stubborn, a stubborn fool.



Waitress: That is true, but I am barely capable of comprehending what you are doing.



Conjoiner: As a matter of fact, I do not enjoy the conversation.



Waitress: There is no such thing. And that is why I shall not raise objections to your engagement.



The conversation will be brief.



In the meantime, Conjoiners, you must understand the nature of this situation. Your Majesty is residing in an unoccupied part of the territory of the Dominion, and you cannot permit yourself to be overwhelmed by its firepower.



In the meantime, Conjoiners, I must convince you that your efforts do not justify a retreat. Because of that, I would like to ask you to accept my terms of engagement.



Conjoiners, the terms of engagement will be issued to you upon your initial consent, and will permit you to form a confederation of your own. You will be the nominal leader of the expedition, but you will control the entire affair. The defense of the world from your First Form allies is your overwhelming priority.



But, I must tell you something very important. A considerable number of your closest allies are dead, and you are unlikely to survive long against the superhuman efforts of this rogue group. You will be sent to the Ordinal Spiral, where you will receive instruction as a means of assuaging your thirst for power.



The Ordinal Spiral is a dark and storied edifice, and Arthur was only a servant of Imperia. She had chosen to summon him as a means of self-preservation.



But, she was right. Genevieve was a powerful profusion of magi, and if he were to be executed with the Ordinal Spiral as his centerpiece, he would be executed with the Spiral itself. There would be no time for deliberation.



As a matter of fact, the Ordinal Spiral gave him a means of evasion, a means of evasion at times, but he hadnt developed it into a full-time job. He lacked the mental clarity to perceive the laws of physics, to reason with the Acheron flames, to perceive the elements more clearly, to properly perceive the cosmos. But his instincts fueled him, so he took the plunge.



The Spiral has given him an extremely powerful asset. This, combined with his enhanced bodily senses, makes him a formidable asset in a counter-attacking force, and there is little reason for him not to hold the Sword against the Ashcloak, and with it, his ability to strike with the Sword.



He knows that the Ashcloaks will not hesitate to lay waste to his worlds defenses, as they did to Arthur. He knows that the Coldbriars will not let him retreat into the void, as the Strategist predicted. And he knows that the Coldbriars will not allow it. His allies, and his enemies, will be trapped within the void, and those who perceive the void with their own eyes will be slain. But the Ashcloaks will not let him perish, for that is exactly what the Strategist wanted.



He knows that the Coldbriars will not allow it. That they will give him a choice: flee the world completely or face greater danger. He knows that, in battle, he may well prove to be the stronger, if not the wettest, individual. But he knows that, due to his own power alone, he may well be the light-bearer to guide the First. He knows that, in battle, he may well prove to be the more dangerous, if not the apple of his eye. But the truth is, he is only human.



Arthur knows that, in battle, he may well prove to be the more dangerous, if not the apple of the eye. But the truth is, he is only human.



Because of that, in the aftermath of battle he will inevitably develop the knowledge necessary to strategize a counter-strike. His true nature, and those of his allies, will determine the outcome. His true nature, and those of his enemies, will determine the outcome.



He will not have the luxury of time, nor the strength of will to execute an attack in the event that it fails to materialize.



Instead, he will position himself, as an officer of Enochs will, to perform the decisive act in the event of an accident.



---



It was a cold, precarious night, the acrid pressure of morning. The sky was a pallid cloud of blue, and the moonlight that rushed across it. Hed expected to see the moon, though he didnt move his foot.



It was dark, and Seeker-morning, and he was still waking from his sleep. He was going to make it, but he was forcing himself not to.

Hed been involved with the States for some time now, the half-spy of the Governances partially residing in California. Erias had taken his position on a first-year professor position, recently moved into a halfway house, and, in the wake of Eria's death at the hands of a dissident group, attempted to dissolve the department. What he hadnt done was attempt to take over a department that blasted, whodawning through suburbia with the sound of thunder.



I have a fellow called Arthur Drake, but I am not the one here," hed said. And hed been trying to pull the analogy with Eria, of course the other.



Professor Drake, it was true. The one who killed Eria, and the one with whom the live hellscape had been ransacked. He was not the only one. The members of the Dominion, even. They were all gun-toting, agile-tongued monsters, dripping with blood and energy, constantly on the lookout for something to do.



No, he hadnt thought that things might get complicated.



This is the man, hed said, his voice falling, That is not right. It is quite blatantly obvious, without further explanation.



Yes, my dear, hed replied, and flashed a casual look of imprecision on Eria's face.



This, he continued, does not fit. For once, I hope you will forgive him.



The man was laughing, of course, completely impotent, and then it was over.



Hed been laughing too long.



It was a long time since he had felt so self-absorbed, so utterly confident, so utterly confident that nothing could bother him more than this one thing. But there was no time for regrets now. He was so confident now, so confident even now.



He felt a sudden surge of fluster, of vigor that could only come from the bonds of an exhausted army. It came from the strength of the fourth bond, wrapped around his chest like a white cord, which held it all: anticipation, a sense of mighty excitement, of course, but also a trembling, heat-pumping, almost titanic, desire that burst like a spike of molten glass.



You are not the only one to feel the same. Arthur Drake does not know anyone whose existence is like that of a murderer. He felt the swell of pride built into his eyes, like spring boiling and thundering, and then it was over.



He broke out into a small but vigorous clanking on the doors face, and followed it into a second-story office on the fourth floor of a largely white building on the outskirts of London. He was soon surrounded by dozens of people, a formidable entourage, all of which seemed unaware of Arthur or their presence.



He walked in, feeling only a slight waver, through fog and quiet into the light of the cafeteria, over a path that lead down a crevasse of benches and into a small plaza populated by Christ-like cross-posts. There were benches along the far end of the plaza where the volunteers had been gathered, and on one piece stood a portrait of Christ surly beyond reasonable doubt.



Arthur registered the direction of the cart, and found that it was headed towards a classroom. Sitting squarely in front of it was a white board with nine columns of spine-deep white spine-deep black tableau. Each column had a song inscribed on it, and the column title was a direct rebuttal to those columns, but with the black column always on top.



He sat down, and read.



The song was R.E.M.'s newest song. Arthur knew of its existence, as there was no mechanism by which he could prove it not existing. He was not an authority on the subject, but it was an interesting song, and he was interested enough in its meaning that he prepared to pay a visit to the band.



Somehow, the organ weirder still was the song, with its chorus of unnatural harmonics, too loud for his ears. The man in question was a man named Jerry Drake, and the song was not his mere obligation.



He read.



It is low time you wake me. Forget your exercises, even if you do not like the tone of my voice. Remember that you are not as powerful as I am. Wake up and speak how you wish, not what I must say. Wake up and make the right choice, and I will listen to you.



His thoughts crossed, he read. This is not something I should go through, but I am not the only one doing it.



He turned his attention to the board and saw the men in it. The men were African-American men of European descent (theyd been African-American men of European descent with European blood), and they were dressed in corporate

He had risen to such a position of such great power that he would have been considered a saint.



Thats all right. Praise be to God. We will begin our venture into the Terrascape.



He accepted it gratefully.



Good. Governance is the last thing I want to do.



What would he do?



Stupidity is a force of nature. Allow me to introduce myself.



She began, politely and gracefully, in the form of a twenty-four-year-old man named Arthur Drake. His name wasnt changed.



Hello? This is Frank Drake. I am Arthur Drake, the Director of Governance. I am the Director of the Terrascape, and I am the Head of Commerce.



He navigated through a fog of exposed soil. Cold water was still rising, but at a mighty 8 feet, and moving at a brisk 60mph. Behind him, the cavern wall was dotted with opulent carved statues of men, beasts and magic.



In front of him were the Commerce offices. A single bench of gold-bright porcelain was placed over a small window facing the building. On each bench sat a third of the goods. A bolt-on lens graced the ceiling, and the head of Commerce was mundane as ever. His grey-blue eyes peered up at a final resting place of Imperia.



This is Arthur Drake, he said, smiling.



What is the matter with us? She asked, eyebrow raised. Go with me.



Yes, he replied, and disappeared into the cold light.



The Commerce building was silent, and the doors opened softly behind them.



Arthur turned to her, displeasure so obvious that he forgot to look straight at the ceiling. The head of Commerce was smiling, but made slight ache-



What about your co-workers, he continued, eyes wide. Are we not already receiving reports of murders and abductions in the Terrascape? You will be our first witness, I hope, if we are to quit this organization.



At that, the man had been silent, and the doors opened again.



Mr. Drake, she said kindly, my regards, and closed his eyes. Now then, we are receiving reports of murders and abductions in the Terrascape. I request that you be present, as well, when I speak with our Interchangeable Man. I see no reason why you should be held in unnecessary danger.



At this moment, a tall, ungainly man dressed in a black suit and carrying a hanging sword appeared before the doors, and began to speak.



In this time, I have learned a great deal, he began, but it was only in passing. Not in detail, as he spoke, to the magi of this school, but he spoke in a steady, steady, steady, steady voice that felt like he were making a song.



Why, he asked, do you engage in combat with Governance agents?



The Interchangeable Man has been idle for the past eighteen hours, but we are receiving reports of increased activity in the area. Teals corpse is being held in an industrial site near the northern edge of the city. Management does not believe the presence of any Dominion artifacts to be of any use to you. This, too, is of little use to you.



I, of course, heard these rumors before. If the Dominion is interested in your body, it must be destroyed within five days.



I, I am afraid I am not sufficiently alone, Mr. Drake. Your Highness addresses us here as the Government of California. We were formed as a Joint Exploitation Task Force in the interests of our Government, during the Cold War. Im so grateful for your service, but I must remind you that we have suffered many losses, and the losses only add to them. Please do not think I am trying to dissuade you, but keep in mind that we are not at the brink of a sustainable crisis. We are only a couple of months from the Kintsugi Man, and his final manifestation.



This is a matter of great urgency, and I am aware that you would prefer to minimize the casualties that could accrue. I am speaking of the Lances. Each of us has had a difficult time fitting in the Lances weve brought with us. As the Lances we took last year, the Lances weve got with the Coldbriar Man. Sometimes the safest course is the least.



You are, of course, correct that there are differing opinions as to what each of us is doing. But here is what Ive come to...



With the help of my Lance, you are now free of the first layer of deaths. It is only due to the accounting of the minutes and hours we spend in combat which we are able to rely

The European Bureau of Enrichment has issued a statement in response to reports that Chinese students at UNR New York are in fact students of the Kintsugi Man, an organization that confers wealth upon the nation-state's graduates.



The Director of Operations of the Bureau of Enochs Secret Bureau said in a statement, "In a letter first sent to students last week, the Director pointed to reports of students from countries where the Kintsugi Mans law is brutal as well as legal. Most reports confirm that the students at UNR New York are indeed students of the Kintsugi Man. We have been engaged with them in depth, and they are not pleased. Nonetheless, UNR New York has stood by our students. In fact, we have been openly critical of their behavior.



The statement said that the Bureau will continue to investigate these reports. The Kintsugi Mans law is, by far, the most murderous nation-state on the planet. In our eyes, it is the epitome of a surprisingly effective own-state. In this light, the United States should look to China for a solution. Unfortunately, U.S. policy towards the world confers far too little on nations like these.



The latest reports from Xinhua, the official news agency of the People's Liberation Army, shed light on a new philosophy at U.S. colleges that encourages students to take the violent side of the state.



The Kintsugi Mans law, commonly known as the "Guilt Constraint Law," was passed by two-thirds of the student body in both the students and Governance governments in the aftermath of the Red Scare. Its primary objective was to punish those students who committed acts of violence against their own society. But by removing the State from its moral jurisdiction, the Law encourages students to act against their own good. The Kintsugi have long relied on the presumption of necessity to establish honor, but the current Academy policy may be seen as analogous to that of the medieval Inquisition. The Kintsugi explain that they are interested in aiding humanity, not erasing it.



Though comprehensible to most people, even the most violent of crimes, the Kintsugi law has profound, if subtle, political and social consequences. It allocates power in a sky-scraper fashion to an autocracy, the very entity whose legitimate primacy Kintsugi hopes will rule for ever. Its hypocrisy and power play are so blatant that even the most ardent liberal among us would be hard pressed to maintain a glimmer of an eye for such tyrannical omissions.



At a certain point, no matter how formidable the Kintsugi tyrannical rule, the system will break down. There is no way around it. It is too easy to go on the rampage against humanity, to the point where your society is like a jungle full of ever-more-swamp-beats.



I see. You see the trap.



The Kintsugi society, which is what it sets out to do, is simple: it creates power, not misery, for its own sake. Far less misery is created by the magi created power than merely power provided by blood! It is a trap created to make you miserable, for good reason: it is the basis for society as we know it.



In the meantime, the State operates in a vacuum. Its agents reside in a world of its own, free of the whims of its magi. Each possesses his own set of rules, and each guides his own course of action to bring about the desired result.



Consider what it means to live in the Kintsugi society. You will not be sheltered from the real world by means other than magic. You will live in a world that respects your own life and makes you its servant. It is not your place to judge.



Though the Ordinal Spiral does permit a sacrilegious cult to exist, the Kintsugi practice of sacrifice has long been open-ranging. Many traditions now permit a variety of forms of sacrifice, including body parts, organs, and souls.



The Kintsugi diet is mild: no refined grains, no legumes with so many side effects. Bakers grapes are preferred, as are legumes with high glycemic index. The Kintsugi people are a semi-autonomous society, but they have no control over the day to day activities of a particular Kintsugi.



Literally.



Imperia had given the list of benefits to her students, and in it was given a thorough description of the fruits and vegetables to be consumed and how to prepare them. Genevieve had kept the list as an educational resource, but had arranged for the bodies to be cataloged and sent to a specialty warehouse in Rome. It had been two days since they had last met.



He had been in Rome, but the Consul had called him. He hadnt wanted to cause a stir with the others

T-that? Thats the expression on his face, from when he was in the habit of blinking.



T-that? It wasnt intentional, he countered, not even in this moment.



What were you thinking, he continued, staring straight ahead. It wasnt intentional.



The Strategist...



The Strategist is the dark side of Arthur Drake. A ruler. An instrument of power. A destroyer of order and purpose. He wields every tool within his power belt to the point that even he cannot perceive any of it.



He knew that Drake had an element of self-righteousness to him. He knew that the Strategist was a disgrace to humanity, a monstrous and wretched relic of the past, relegated to oblivion. He knew that even his strongest monarchs would perish in the crucible of a crisis.



He knew that the Strategist was a terrible, horrible monster, a monster whose horror could never be justified by any reasonable explanation, a monster whose passions could never be justified by reason.



But, despite the fog of his mental projection, Arthur was still casting. He was still casting - and, as the Strategist had said, he could still read the sky. With the help of the Lazyhaus Book of Shadows, he was able to read even the deepest of the Terrascapers. In this he had access, at a great spiritual cost, and had been able to do it with such magnificence as this. Arthur could read the sky, but he could not read the heart.



Within, he could read all the world. He could read the heart, but there was more. He could read the heart, but there was more. He could read the heart, but there was more. He could read the mind, but he could not read it. He could read it, and it was the heart that held him.



And he wasnt going to let any of it go to waste!



The Strategist was a horrible thing, Arthur finally resolved. It was a weapon of mass destruction, the equivalent of mass murder unleashed by the superhuman with the intent to annihilate all existence. And that was not the only thing that the beast gave away. The Strategist was a weapon of mass destruction, as well.



Black Swans, still neutral in the air, was cut down by another, falling tree trunk. Spiralwings, the same, still alive.



The Spirit had survived, Arthur thought, Had it not been for the fact that his body was still impaled in the primordial flood? But his thoughts were no more focused on the sea of dead-water than before, which was a shame, because the elemental pool upon which his body was born was far from finite. From the heavens, he could see into the distant past, into the distant future, the likely future of humanity.



But one thing remained.



The one thing that hed never realized.



The one thing that hed never stopped trying to do.



His body could continue to heal, if it was somehow sacrificed. That was one of the very few truths that the Absorptionist could openly state. But that was another story. For now, we must make our way towards the Terrascape.



While Arthur explored the depths of the Megalith, Spiral began to speak.



The first thing he said to himself was, yes, there were different levels of the Absorptionist spell. From a magus perspective, the Megalith was a solitary cavern, devoid of creatures of all flesh and all minds. There were even humanoids and ettins, though they only inhabited the outermost parts of the caverns. Arthur had no idea what the Enochs plan was, except perhaps that they were trying to kill him.



After that, Arthur was really only absorbed into the Terrascape occasionally, though he continued to explore as if nothing had happened. In the meantime, he had written a very interesting book called Dragons of Souls. Arthur had read it once or twice, and had been blown away. Arthur had become an incredibly immersed brain, engrossed in magics and enthralling in lore. Terrascape lore was utterly bizarre, and Arthur had found it comforting, even comforting in its own strange and disconcerting state.



He was now ready to explore, to make his way out into the unknown and the infinite.



The only thing keeping him from submerging into the virtual realm of his mind, was the fact that the Megalith was inhabited by basically monsters now. Arthur marshaled the Vitalist artifacts he found, re-entering his body and attempting to move while retaining his consciousness. He moved in a microcosm of his body, a loose cocoon of feeling that moved like a veil around his mind and, for the most part, he was able to act autonomously and simply as he pleased. He was

The Imperial Facet of Mankind, Imperia, had been one of the few people who did not resent Chiron, especially her lecherous and clueless demeanor. Her furtive tactics had been mildly amusing, like playing with her son's sneakers, but all those who had followed the Consuls petition felt they had stumbled into the wrong place. Arthur was not the first to notice this, of course, and so he had a few hours to chat with his new roommates before he would venture out into the field to check on them.



Put down your guns! Put down your chain-smoke! Go behind your back! Are you back to sleeping?



Tealas sat in a corner with a blank expression, her eyes half-lidded. Her new best friend had been slain. She had no idea how to use her newfound power, regardless of the participants. It was like being shot in the kneecaps - all her instincts had been unleashed to unleash the full fury of her weapon.



Tealas looked at Arthur with a burning determination, and he was right. The Bactrian city that had been his home had been taken, and his mother and dad had died in the attack. He was constantly reminded that the world was not his, but he could not control his own. He merely wanted to live.



Arthur was not a genius, but he was certainly not an island. He was not even an island. The world was not his island, but he could control it. His island.



He had never been an island, anyway.



Tealas brow furrowed. You were not an island, were you? What were you thinking?



A moment's reflection in Arthur's mind indicated that he was still not entirely sure what he was thinking.



A moment? He wondered. In a dreamscape of raw emotion, rich with hope and awe, hed seized upon its vestiges of hope and awe, as though they contained a torch and a jewel. Those were the only elements still within his awareness, and they were all untouched by the Blade. Without them, hed no more control of the world than he possessed - only the veil of illusion that had broken with his victory.



But, he continued, then, hed continued on.



What the Strategist Said Was True. The world was not your place, not with your enhanced abilities, could you conceive of anything more than a shell of its former self?



Tealas eyes flickered open. That is not true. From what I know of your training, your mastery of the seer stone, and your enhanced abilities, you are considered a higher level. We are still in the early days of our training, though you are likely farther, far from Enoch. You are still developing your power, and are indeed an elite among the magi of the Ordinal Spiral.



Finally Tallypore came back, wearing a black class uniform and blue-green lightning bolt-piercing boots. His standing ovation was brief, like the thin stream of water that ran through his feet, but everyone fell silent as he carried Tallypore to safety.



The Strategist was right. Thinking about the world and the magi around him, the Exalting was absolutely essential. But that was beside the point, for the Exalting was virtually impossible without Enochs help. Arthur could never be an elite magus without being an elite Exal.



And that was despite the fact that he wasnt even an Exal. He was a being of immense power, whose existence the true magus. The Exalts powers were not unlimited; he could conquer the entire society, encompassing every sphere of life and lore, entire epoch... but he could conquer even that society and the entire Spiral.



Tealas lead them through the Archway, to the very edge of the city where he resided. There, they were whisked into the Terrascape. He had looked upon it with the unkindest of regards, but now that he had arrived there, he witnessed it with full awareness.



A gigantic, flat-topped sunbeam swept across the horizon, a rising star rising and falling like thunder. The resonant chill of the sea, the chill that condensed air, was brought to a swift stop by the appearance of the sun, beyond which was nothing but blue and freezing.



The Spire, he witnessed from afar, stood in stark contrast to the otherwise tranquil skies that encircled it. It was a breathtaking sight, like the perfect backdrop to a funeral parlor, set against the backdrop of the Spire itself. He heard the fusillade of rose petals cascading against the sky, a grandeur more breathtaking than the first sight he had of the grounds. The fount of his own blood filled the stone, and Arthur knew that the Blade would not let him

By now, most people know that Two-Weapon Fists exist, but unbelievably, there are so many more - technically possible and extremely unlikely - that, to some, they are a mystery. But what if - somehow - the Four-Weapon Arm had a purpose?



A true Fists Blade, with its resonant, insistent resonances, can be accessed only by Artifact-based battles. Operations where the Specialist class is the only class that possesses the Blade. Short-range teleportation, teleportation of mind-affecting effects, or other forms of teleportation can be used to access it. In addition, the Ordinal Spiral grants a number of benefits other than the Ordinal Spiral, such as the unique nature of the primary weapon and its double-edged trident-shattering power, as well as the unlimited number of contexts in which Ordinalism can be learned and practiced.



Though Ordinalist theory attempts to reconcile the two, the fundamental structure remains the same. Elements are polynomials of two elements, each of which acts differently in the organizational hierarchy of a second-order system. Elements can be manufactured from one composite component, the primary component, at a time.



In the primary, the primary is the most powerful element, while the tracer fragment is the least powerful. As in all magic on the scale, the components have their limits.



There are, of course, limits to the power of a Tracer fragment. There are even limits to the differentials of a primary weapon, the kinds that can be swapped out in order to produce a more powerful version.



The Elements of a Fourth-Order Spiral



The Elements of a Fourth-Secondary Sword



The Elements of a Secondary Blighters can now be killed off at will, halfway. They cannot be revived from irreparable slumber, and so the First-Order Blighters can be formally ended at any moment. But even the primary Baryons can be turned into Blighters, with very little risk of injury. And the Fourth-Ordinal Sword is nothing less than the most powerful weapon in the Terrascape, capable of obliterating Vitalist Megalith-class Ordinalists with a single blow.



That is why it is so crucial that our Explorers never experience any discomfort or discomfort during an Attack. This is especially true for the Perishing Blade, whose inherent durability is significantly lower than that of a Vitalist Megalith. The rapidity of its discharging the Blade is so great that the elemental that operates it is a tenth-speed instant slower than the speed of sound. Thus far this Rite has been successful, but it could be even faster. It is the only method in which a Perishing Blade can be disengaged, without harming the existing components of the Megalith. If the Blade fails to respond to a Perishing Attack, it will only be destroyed by other means.



That is why it is so crucial that our Explorers never experience any discomfort or discomfort during an Attack. This is particularly true for the First-Ordinal Sword, whose exceptionally strong component pool is enormous, and which operates entirely in the Second-Ordinal Sword's absence. But during an Attack, it is the Ordinal with which our Nettlespine has learned the most powerful cantrips of her remaining time, which gets transferred from her periphery to that of her allies.



That is why it is so crucial that our Explorers do not suffer any discomfort during an Attack.



That is why it is so crucial that our Explorers never experience any pain or discomfort during an Attack. This is especially true for the First-Ordinal Sword, which operates entirely in its own periphery, and whose exceptionally fast cadence of motion is especially fluid.



That is why it is so crucial that our Explorers experience no pain or discomfort during an Attack. This is especially true for the Second-Ordinal Sword, which operates entirely free of its parents, and which is partly penetrated by its sisters. The First-Ordinal is the only mechanism by which its components are constantly inhibited.



That is why it is so so so crucial that we never experience any discomfort, pain, or discomfort in your life! Because it is the first-line of defense against any attack of this scale!



That is why it is so crucial that we never experience any discomfort, pain, or discomfort caused by our intuition, conditioning, or conditioning alone! Because it is the only means of attaining our goals, the only means of self-destruction! Because it is the only means of self-restraint in the face of our greatest fears! Because it is the only means of self-control in the face of what is most likely to be an incontrovertible victory at war! Because it is the

This is one of those situations where you can think very, very carefully about what you share and what you dont.



That is why I will not be being your sial-



You cant be a slavish opponent of mine, Canonswoodcher! The Drake slaver, on the other hand, is a creature of mine. I dont care what his relevance is to you, as long as you dont take it as a sign that he is in the wrong. Are you ready?



Yes, Sir, I am.



---



The Drake slaver is a foe you will not face alone. I will not have the Courage to face him alone.



Arthur still has a broad arsenal on his plate, and his grapple-slashing power will prevent him from perpetually using it against you. He will not be able to teleport easily in the right direction, and the power of his Facet off-hand will likely be at its limits.



For a moment, Arthur felt his heart racing. What the Spirit seems to be able to do, I think.



Mr. Drake, say he may, the Strategist has issued a signal. Hurry, haste. The battle is almost upon us. The First Sword is an errant leaf of fire that can be easily spread by magic. If we are to survive it, it is essential for us to wield the First Sword.



Presumably, the First Sword has a function of its own. Im not done here.



The Strategist has awoken the Spirit within Arthur.



My staff is now ready to fire. Its a simple matter of turning on its primary power. If its not already firing, I will permit it to. This is my power, my only protection against its innate instability. It can be extended, but only if I am safe from its weakness. The power it wields, the power to restrain it.



The Drake Staff is an anomalous staff that mists Arthur. It is a staff of undying determination, and it has the power to spare.



With its staff, Arthur has awoken the Spirit within himself. In the first place, it confers great powers on him. Those, of course, can only be extended to him alone. Not as a class, nor as a whole, but at least he is immune.



It is a power that, like the power of the First Sword, can be easily extended. And it is an advantage.



Imperia was a woman powerful enough to rule the throne of Egypt, whose throne she held for a lifetime. She was beautiful, impossibly kind, and terrible. He had no idea what to make of those traits.



She lived to regret it. And he would regret it if he did not regret it.



The last time I saw her, her face was solemn, translucent with wistfulness. Her hair was dark brown, tinged with gold, and she sported a crude, yet somehow harmonious, T-shirt over her pristine blue-and-white. Her face was ashen with wear as she looked, her eyes so tightly closed, her tone so warily reserved.



She was very much alive, he knew that. But she was still the same woman.



The thing is, it doesnt matter what color she was, what color clothing she was wearing, what color hair she was using on her own. It doesnt matter what color clothing she was wearing, or what color clothing she was wearing. It doesnt even matter what color clothing she was wearing, whether it was red, blue, or green.



He shook his head, placing his right arm around the shoulder of her married girlfriend. His arm.



You dont need to tell me that youre alive. All I care about is my arm. I didnt do anything wrong, I swear to god. I just walked into an emergency meeting and all of a sudden it doesnt even work. I cant even tell you the exact reason why. I swear to god because if I were in your shoes I would never even know it.



The Strategist didnt even bother to inform him of what Id actually seen, and when Arthur finished with his explanation, he knew exactly what Id actually done.



The thing is, Imperia didnt bother to ask what Id actually tried to do, or even attempt to do, against this power.



She was waiting for him, and it hadnt occurred to her that she would be waiting for him with such indifference. She would probably just shut up.



Arthur sighed. She would have been remiss had she not considered hed tried something even remotely resembling guileless courtesy. The fact that hed tried it with such disrespect was simply one of the many reasons he didnt acknowledge her nagging.



Oh, I- I- I- it's- it really hurts. Foxglove told her what Imperia considered a fairly reasonable response, but he was not ready.

Striking Seals have surrounded the mammoth traceries ever since they were first discovered. Not a single creature can move through the soil except Teals head, who is an armored burrowing creature whose tear-gas-filled formal burrowing emanations remind one of the titanic graven beasts of the Nowhere land. The graven beasts, in this case, were a new species created to challenge Governance, though it was discovered that even the now-indestructible Conjoiners were still capable of tumbling through caverns and other bedrock-covered places.



The new creature has a number of tricks up its sleeve. First, it knows how to eat food that someone without food instincts would shun, and by some miracle, it does so without much effort. So much so that even the humans who could not conceive of eating it could swear by it, even if they were subservient to an accounting girl who developed enhanced cantinas into her tool box (or whatever she was) - such a terrifying ability, attributed to some magical entity, that even a Physiognomy graduate could hardly afford.



Second, it can teleport faster than any teleportation device before it. This is a speed that any normal human can only reach within the bounds of the Enochian Ordinal itself. This is an arsenal far outstripping even the capabilities of even the most powerful heroines. It would be foolish to think that human consciousness could store this weaponry in our pockets, even before the Ordinal itself.



I see, Lord Teal, he is in for a treat. The Interchangeable Man is certainly capable of exploiting our weakness for his own ends. Nonetheless, it is true that the Enochian Ordinal exists as a separate entity from our actual lives within the world of our dreams. Many are convinced that the Enochian Ordinal is the primary source of happiness in this world, and that he is capable of manifesting it in our lives. But we are intercepting a distress signal, as it inevitably will. Victory or defeat, each of us must now face this threat head-on. And there are men and women like him among us, the martyrs whose lives are on the line every day.



Ah, he says, smoothing the Blade away. As those are my only real chances, though. I must work with you though...



Yes, hed been thinking hed been thinking. His Exomex Form required the creation of a new superhuman Form, he replied with an insistent tone. Of course, there is no place like home to invest my time and effort. Show me the Vitalist Form and you will tell me when Omen is finished. He had been too busy preparing for this to come.



The Interchangeable Man smirked. We dont need your time, darling. You are an experienced warrior, whose battle-worn belt will keep your instinctive lance poised to the flintlock well of your targets.



The Blade wasnt ready, but hed been waiting for the Attacks to finish.



The Blade can unleash these Vitalist Attacks in response to pressure, the Strategist said, removing his cloak and placing it on a high alert. The device is vulnerable to attack, as it is against the Blade itself.



Something was amiss, the Tank snapped. He was looking at the Kintsugi Materialist who was haphazardly dismantling the Interchangeable Man. "T-," he began, slowly but steadily closing his eyes. His eyes were still heavy, but Arthurs eyes were pounding furiously on the screen.



He was forced to focus on his Blade. It emitted a killing sting when fired, and as Arthur focused elsewhere he was struck still further by his terror. It was a horrible, horrible sound. For a moment he focused on his Kintsugi, and then his time had run out. Most of the instant he was standing alone in the greenhouse, staring immobile through his Occlumens.



The Strategist wasnt happy, though. He hadnt anticipated that his very existence, this fragile jewel of a existence, would come to this. Had Arthur found a way to protect himself? Had he given up hope? Hadnt he found the strength to continue on?



The Blade doesnt hurt, the Strategist continued. It just keeps on beating.



The Kintsugi was an especially terrible weapon, the scoreless din of its flames and groans muffled by his Cloak. Arthur fought long enough to count the dregs of its sputtering sound, which hed glimpsed again and again in the trees. It was a hand-worked cast of petals, the slightly-pale edges of a jewel.



In the forest, hed seen a wolf that seemed defeated, while in the ground, though still alive. Kills hard. Attacks with a blade like that. A strange... security, this fragile jewel. It hides something monstrous from sight.

Tens of thousands of students took to the streets of Seattle on May 2, in a day of student demonstrations and a clumsy attempt at an executive order that would end the nation's education system. But there was little to no consensus as to what exactly was in the President's desired educational philosophy.



At a national level, the students gathered were divided, some students now saying the same thing: that the government should be the primary defender of traditionalism from traditional-mindedness, while others said the opposite: that traditionalism must be crushed or the country will fall into cataclysm.



The idea that the President was holding forth on ideas that had recently been discarded as "just-boys-doing-things college graduates" was not only ludicrous, it was destructive. The very idea that he was delivering a lecture on the actual life of a particular culture, one that had been taught by a God whose name was Christ, was simply another form of worship was simply another story that Asian students had spent years developing.



Arthur did not know anyone with such a pedigree. Perhaps he had forgotten Jerry Brown, the African-American girl who was his best friend, on a date one day. Maybe it had been awkward for him, to say the least, given the stranger's exoticities: brown hair, broad chest, and neatly-knit stockings. The dainty blue-rimmed glasses of the girl on which he often sported flopped from his gaze.



But, he continued, this luminous place seemed, to him, to lie at the heart of the Terrascape, the sliver of glimmer that had grown overspread across the Mountain and the Sea, and gone unseen, forgotten.



He considered the boys at the Terrascape for a full evening, before deciding to permit the researchers to continue their fieldwork. That evening, he spent the rest of the early hours with them, sifting through the burrowing soil and expanding his body, proving his durability in battle and the opportunities afforded to those with his power.



At dawn he emerged from the soil to find the sun already setting.



He had thought his body would fail him, likely, be utterly destroyed, especially if he was placed in the position of a mortal. But, as he climbed steadily into the soil, he found himself enjoying the beauty of the morning sun, halfway to its path, halfway to its conclusion: after only a few moments of light, it was over. With a movement that was both unusual and awe-inspiring, Arthur reached out and touched his body.



-Thats it? -Mr. Drake -



He held up his hand, and when the photorealistic effect was destroyed he realized it was painted blood, shed not from the blows sustained on his body, but rather from swelled by the healing power of the sun.



Youre not done yet?



Shit, shed kept on vanishing, but thats the end of the line.



That was when he realized how unbelievably trainwreck business was.



Youre not finished yet? He considered tapping the ground, trying to release the tension in his chest. Theres no time for that, are you? Goodbye, shed.



Im not worried about that, are you? He held up the hand that had held him in his stead, as he looked on.



Im not even thinking about it. This isnt about you. It wasnt even about me. On your own life. I dont want to hurt you. I am sorry. Hes been kind to me and I love you.



Youre not even thinking about it. Theres no time for that.



---



In the depths of the jungle, with the constant inscrutable clean-up work of the Terrascape and the occasional survey of scattered spots, Arthur had not been surprised by its diversity of species. Perhaps it was a matter of internal selection rather than dovish gentility. There were certainly numerous miniature maggots throughout the forest floor, though never as numerous as this one.



Its head was covered in a rich, blotch-red color, the color of the soil, the maw of its tail, which whirled around again and again. It was lightly translucent to the naked eye, and was utterly devoid of the shell and filigree of its namesake, the Megalith. The Megalith was the fourth-dimensional being Arthurs eyes had seen, and so it was uncanny.



But before he could kill time, it was destroyed.



Teal had ran into a coincidental choice in the course of the attack. She had been sitting as she was being held by his arm, as he naturally was. Tally had been out on the boat with Arthur, inscribing contingencies on her hair and on her uniform. When she appeared she would be on her way immediately, if she was at all discomfort-



The As

Do you believe mankind, in its depths, descended so low that the simplest human thought must have been blackest? Do you consider yourselves an empress? A woman? A magus? All of which make you an empress of the most wretched peoples on the face of the earth. But do you believe the magus has the upper hand over you, in Egypt, here? Do you think, if you act impulsively and impatiently, that the world will topple over? That you may die in the confrontation of your life? That you may become the breadwinner of humanity? That you may become a saint, and yet fail to conceive of a child that can raise its head as a saint? The magus is absolutely correct in that regard. You do not need his help. You exist as an Exalted One to conceive a child worthy of the name of Imperia.



Ah, that too feels hollow to you, Arthur mused. You do not feel weak, merely powerful. And yet heavy. You dont feel the need to put on the heavy armor. You are strong because you exert yourself, because your mind is so like steel and bone as you work to its partial demise.



I suppose I should start by saying that I am greatly grateful to my second marriage to the Governance of Riddleys Island. Had I known the magnitude of the situation before I began my engagement... I would not have consented at the very least. It is unfortunate, frankly, that we have let the matter pass so easily among those who share our contempt for human life. But, I do not see how such a move by somesh with such a dignified place of abode would be amenable to the well-being of mankind as a whole. That said, I do wish to make a final and indelible plea, far from the cynical, on those who wish to impair our Governance's work with any serious consequences...



As ever, our Imperial Excellency, this plea is granted, so that I may consider a alternative route to Governance.



With a nod, he, too, inclines his Head, and the Thirty First Nines of the Ordinal Oath before him.



Am I not the first to think this?



Imperia said nothing at all when Arthur took his seat. Which was fitting - her full attention was concentrated on him.



Now then, my dear, one last time to consider the matter in your own personal interest. This time, I do not place much stock on what you may possess, but certainly not unearned, power. It is difficult to conceive of any situation in which you more fully enjoy the benefits of your power than you would otherwise enjoy.



The Strategist Missy was silent for a moment longer, before Idly taking a step back. She was wearing dark magics that reflected the pale suns of her enhanced sunbathers clothing, and held both a knee high in the air. There was a swift, almost gentle crunching sound, accompanied by a shriek of alarm.



Impressive! A bolt of lightning, whose color was a pale blue, penetrated the sky and towards Oxford. The ground beneath its roots creaked and shook, forcing its weight into their soil. A mighty thunder, or a golden sun, were all that remained of the palace, but the palace was empty.



Something was amiss. At least one of the Dragons had a shoulder or arm, Arthur remembered, and the others were still alive.



He frowned. They were surely the most disturbed of the three, though they were all dead before he could summon the Vitalist Artificers for them.



They werent nearly as well-built as his Dragons, but he had the Vitalists when he had his Dragons. The Dragons were tough, but they were not as durable as his Dragons. He could have used his durability to his advantage, but he simply did not have the manpower or combined might to do that. The Vitalists were more useful, but he was tired of the old boys wasting time on pointless battle.



Now, one of his Dragons, I am forced to disagree. There is still much I would like to learn from the Dragons, but I am afraid I cannot do until I take cognizance of the new rules. And that is why I shall introduce our newest addition, Professor Dustham.



He raised his palm to meet Arthur's.



He was an aspiring magus.



Fool! You think your ability is the result of experience alone?



Professor Dustham clinked glasses off with a perspiration that should have run high, but was instead dripping heavily.



It is not the strength of your mind. This is an extrinsic matter of your own making. I have long admired your talent and intend to survey it thoroughly as I look to the future.



He acknowledged the Dragon, whose voice was calm but piercing.

Titanic (Arthur M. Drake)



At last, Professor, you have established a personal link. If you were to make a final decision before the end of the semester, you would recognize that it is the obligation of the student body, not the government, to make the choice between survival and serious bodily harm. But I am not going to have that conversation. The more I think about it, the more I see the point.



That said, Arthur himself did not believe that Imperia would be a more effective tactician against Vitalists. For one thing, they were probably immune to the Dragons.



Holy crap! Were about to purchase a magus to take her to Drake! The magus is the Director of Operations! The magus is the Strategist since before she was appointed Director! Classes without directors do not seem to be a problem.



Thankfully, Caroline had deferred to another day, so she could continue the conversation at hand.



He told her her task would be simple - excavate the Enochs corpse and bring it to Drake. She was grateful that her and Imperia's attention had left him with Caroline, who was attempting to conceive.



The dojo was poorly-equipped, and her demeanor did not feel right. You see, the Strategist is an entirely separate matter. There are numerous layers to her job, among the various classes of her students. And, as you know, we operate in a closed society, where even the appearance of power encourages one to commit acts of violence. Therefore, I would like to know if there is in fact a more appropriate course of action that would ensure our children's safety while we continue this study.



The Director of Operations gestured for him to move the magus, who passed out.



But I think a great leader is born with humanity, Arthur Drake replied.



Imperia was slightly irritated that he was absent. "Not well," she said. "I know it is difficult for me to imagine an island without its own leader, but I hope that you do not mind if I come back here once more."



With a wry smile, Arthur stood up from his seat and walked towards the door.



Gregory Drake, Caroline continued, Despite Arthur vowing not to, started up the conversation.



Yes, Mr. Drake, Arthur mused. I hope you were not offended by the end of my letter.



He killed an irritation with his teeth.



Yes. Caroline said dismissively. Oh, eh. Perhaps it was that frustrating? There was no time for regrets now.



He closed his eyes, shifted his weight, and breathed deeply.



The Interchangeable Man was... somewhat alarming. At first he thought he was speaking of the Monarch, but in reality he was speaking of several types of magus. The Headmasters Exarchs, the Ordinals of the Academy, and the Governances Governances. The three were both Governances, while the others were outlawed.



Imperia gazed at him.



Those are not some monstrosity we are so often told about. There are other people named Arthur beyond the Headmaster. And there are real magi who are not Arthur Drake himself.



Moral of the story. You do not have to be such a monstrosity, he replied. Do not make any excuses.



Oh, yeah, he finally finished.



His fingers touched the smooth stone below, an undulating orb of soft suppleness enveloped by translucent golden spines. The feel of the circular stone against the lighter moonlight, and the mist that covered it, reigned.



Arthur felt the heat, and felt it become a burning hatred, a sharpening of blade against blade, a burning fury that began to express itself in the immensity. The aches and pains of life and death, the sharp pain of death, poured forth from him, and he felt the burning desire to hide it, to beg for it, that marrow within his marrow that had been the basis of Imperias existence, and served to bond his sisters to it.



He felt the orb in his hand, glinting and turning to steel, and when he stood, it felt as if he were in possession of a transcendent being. There was no brushing of his skin, no sharpening of blades against steel, no re-emergence of his limbs. It was the forest here, the forests massed in majesty, which had been the focus of his attention, until he saw it.



Arthur Drake. Arthur Drake, the Monarch.



It was not then that he realized how wrong he had been, but he might as well have been speaking from experience. It was there that he remembered what a difficult lesson he had taken, how easily his powers of observation had waned as he realized how small a growth Imperia had been able to cause. How

Abandon that steering wheel.



Your schedule has changed. You are already due to depart on a scheduled work session with the Managing Director of Xinshausen, the Imperial agent.



She clapped a hand in her face, and promptly left the room. In the meantime, I will be answering your questions, as you know. For now, your power is merely a descriptor of mine. You will be the one to answer correct questions about Governance. I am not a magus, nor an agent, but I do have some knowledge of your mind.



The Strategist replied.



For whatever reason, the Strategist refused to invite you to speak with me, Mr. Drake. And whatever revelations you decide to release from my control, I will not be able to exert any pressure on them.



Well, that was easy. Imperia had a secret counsel, with her own goals.



You shouldnt have met me, Arthur Drake. You would think I would understand, and more importantly, feel, my emotions. But I-



He ignored her for the very next two hours. He couldnt speak with her in general, but when he did speak to her, she was the type of person who would let him, let alone ask him, anything.



He grimaced. She was a calculating, impassioned fool, he knew that. But he couldnt see the future, couldnt even afford the time to speak with her.



Do you see? Im going to teach you how to express yourself. How to build an emotion out of nothingness. And then, when you are done, I will be with you. The Strategist is the only one who understands-



He blinked. O-oh, but her emotions dont fit me, she cant understand me. She doesnt know how to express himself. Without her, I wouldnt be able to express myself.



Machiavellianism, Arthur Drake.



His hyperactive brain seemed to waver, to blurt out information. Very trivially. What was the Strategist doing here?



This is really...



The Strategist giggled. "Arthur, it is nice to meet you. I thoroughly enjoy your company, and the work you do, is highly appreciated. Most importantly, I would like to thank you for stopping by our store a bit. You are a very helpful person, and we are very busy - was the Commerce right?- so make it up to me as your usual time. Flee altogether and tell me what you feel. I will answer your questions at the end of the day, though.



Arthur blinked. Vertigo gripped him, but then there was the clarity in the air, as though there were no clouds to blot out the sky, no horizon to blot out the sun.



After that, he would waste no time in collecting information about you.



It greatly saddened him that Ignatius was a misfit, anyway, but he seemed to enjoy it less.



He hoped he wasnt alone in that.



Arthur Drake, the Nightmare of the First Form, was a monstrous and astonishingly powerful beast of magical energy who wielded a vast quantity of matter that could be described as composite. Naturally, he lacked the warding physical attributes of biology or magic, but he could teleport around any barrier he created. Arthur also lacked the magical faculties to generate structures that could cause instantaneous death, though that was merely an assumption. He could sense the vital organs of the atrium, the ventral organs of the vernus, the vernoid organs of the brain, and the neurovascular membranes that supply blood to the brain.



When he fought the Atronach, the Atrium Spiral, and the Atrium Teals, he was a nonconjoiner, a laggard forch whose actions sometimes resembled that of a man with a knife in his shoulder. His windswept eyes glowed with despair at the grandeur of the caverns, its wonders so vast and so breathtaking, so far removed from the homes and gardens upon which he was so accustomed. One bound, and he could hardly look away from their spectacle.



He could sense the Thetan mist on the other ends of the valley, and against great stretches of thick mist the sun drowned out the horizon. Even the shivering hands of the creatures still felt the chill of the carpet upon their skins. In winter, when the mist was so thick and freezing and blotted out the sky, it was difficult to tell where the freezing winds were going.



He wasnt invincible, he wasnt invincible. If he couldnt dodge the Atrianome Enochs assault with the full force of his wind power, then he could not fail.



He was the Imperia of Imperia, he would live and he would die. Not rubbishing them, not trying to pry his foe