deadcrystal
Slaaneshi Cultist
- Location
- The Warp
You have laid a terrible curse upon this thread.
This was the moment upon which I knew. The very first piece of actual information.
Reap what you have sown.
La Chanson de France - Fate/Broken Europa
- Thread starter Omicron
- Start date
-
- Tags
- fate/stay night (fate series) urban fantasy (fantasy) canon what canon female protagonist a living records of your shames brexit france hubris is a coward's word i put on my suit and guillotine impending saberface ishtar is totally useless mistakes may have been made mommy issues (mom) those wacky cultists
You have laid a terrible curse upon this thread.
This was the moment upon which I knew. The very first piece of actual information.
Reap what you have sown.
- Location
- Brittany, France
- Pronouns
- He/Him
you threw in raoul razorback and le corbusier, i'm so mad
It had to be done. If you're too afraid to fulfil your Destiny, don't complain when someone else steps up to the task.
I've done more than that. I've made Wells and Razorback members of the Cult of Reason.
Mads doesn't like them, but she is their peer.
And in your heart, you know it to be true.
Look at my work and despair.
- Location
- Brittany, France
- Pronouns
- He/Him
goddammit
- Location
- Not the asylum anymore
- Pronouns
- She/Her
i dun get it
- Location
- Spain
Omi did a couple of Let's read's of some really weird books.
Let's Read Les Thanatonautes - A Dive Into Crazy French Genre Fiction Books - Review
Let's Read Les Thanatonautes A Dive Into Crazy French Genre Fiction Intro - Who is Bernard Werber? Hello and welcome to this, my first-ever Let’s Read! I am new to this form of review, so I hope you’ll bear with me as I work my way through figuring out update length, quote density, and...
forums.sufficientvelocity.com
Let's Read: Les Fourmis - A Dive Into Yet More Weird French Genre Fiction Books - Review
Let's Read Les Fourmis Bernard Werber: Origins Of Smugness Welcome back, you fools. Did you think we were done with Bernard Werber? No, the Great Genius of French speculative fiction has more in store for us. But today we do not tackle the sequel to Thanatonauts, nor his peculiar take on...
forums.sufficientvelocity.com
Omi did a couple of Let's read's of some really weird books.
Let's Read Les Thanatonautes - A Dive Into Crazy French Genre Fiction Books - Review
Let's Read Les Thanatonautes A Dive Into Crazy French Genre Fiction Intro - Who is Bernard Werber? Hello and welcome to this, my first-ever Let’s Read! I am new to this form of review, so I hope you’ll bear with me as I work my way through figuring out update length, quote density, and...
Let's Read: Les Fourmis - A Dive Into Yet More Weird French Genre Fiction Books - Review
Let's Read Les Fourmis Bernard Werber: Origins Of Smugness Welcome back, you fools. Did you think we were done with Bernard Werber? No, the Great Genius of French speculative fiction has more in store for us. But today we do not tackle the sequel to Thanatonauts, nor his peculiar take on...
Specifically, Edmond Wells is a character from the Empire of Ants (second link) who drives much of its plot, even though he's mostly absent from the novel. It's kinda too complicated (and stupid) to explain what his deal is (I suggest reading the thread: it's not very long, but is rather amusing), but the basic premise (minus magic) is straight from there: Wells dies (a bit less dramatically, IIRC, but still from insect bites), his nephew inherits the apartment and moves there with his family, then discovers a spooky door and disappears there, shortly followed by his wife. His son calls the cops.
Then Nasuverse happens, so instead of all the cops and firemen just disappearing down in the basement we have a spooky hivemind going.
Raoul Razorback (mind the edge) comes from Thanatonauts (first link), and is easier to explain: he's a guy with a bright idea to explore the afterlife by inducing near-death experiences on convicts because that's a splendid idea bound to work (spoiler: it does work).
He and Edmond share the trait of being insufferably smug geniuses misunderstood by all but the author of both books.
There was a joke in the Ant thread about how well Edmond and Raoul work as crazed Nasuverse magi up against Mads, brought up in this thread as well a couple pages back, so here we are.
Last edited:
- Location
- Brittany, France
- Pronouns
- He/Him
this omake is provisionally canon
Hail @illhousen who gave us the match up we've so long desired.
Me sowing: Ha ha, yes! The joke is alive! Yes!
Me reaping: Wait, now I have to write it. What the fuck?!
Really not making any promises about the update schedule, though I do have some ideas on where to take it.
Thanks, I'll put my XP in Style, please.
(More seriously, a question: does Cedric have access to the Voice, or is it a senior members only kind of deal? Sorry if it was established already, and I forgot. I kinda implied that he does have it in one place, but it's early enough to change.)
- Location
- Brittany, France
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Learning to use the Voice comes in tiers, first the Self, then the World, then the Mind. Cédric is probably at the Self stage and working on getting the hang of the World.
all fictions
I hate you! (it's not against the rules!)
- Location
- Mons Regius
- Pronouns
- He/Him
You know, reading this made me think of how Waver would
I tried to keep it simple enough and provide enough backstory bits so even people with zero knowledge of Lord El-Melloi II Case Files can somewhat follow even if they don't know the characters at all (supposing people want to read about something not featuring Mads at all except obliquely), but it was a mixed bag. Some bits definitely only makes sense if you know the details. I also had to make up from scratch what a Gray in her thirties might be like and, honestly, I kept things vague because I was unsure on a lot.
And, side note, while this takes place on the same day or near of the revision of the report, I needed an estimation as to when the War takes place and I first assumed the reference to Jojo Rabbit was enough to put it in Fall 2019, especially since it fits Notre-Dame burning being a fresh memory. But then I looked it up out of curiosity, and apparently, the movie released theatrically in France only on January 29th 2020. Simple enough to chalk up to alternate timeline shenanigans, but I just found that fact kinda funny. Doubly funny with the idea that it could have taken place the same month as the original VN and slightly before the pandemic.
But feel free to skip this, people. Half the fun I had was seeing how far I can reach to make up magibabble for Waver to say, but I understand that Waver's exposition is not for everyone.
Magibabble, or Discourse on the Magical Method
"Hm," is the only sound my former master makes, absorbed as he is reading the report. Instead of his usual multi-tasking, he has even taken the time to pause his game and put down his controller next to him on the couch, leaving what seemed to be a samurai facing a giant headless ape frozen on the screen, the context missing to me. He looks and sounds annoyed, either by the contents of the report or the fact that it had been signed Hishiri Adashino.
His forehead deeply creased in thought is an expression I haven't seen in a long time and sorely missed. Though I didn't enjoy seeing others suffer, have bad luck, or be miserable like Reines did, I have grown to like that expression. The image of Waver Velvet deep in thought has always preceded him saving me, his students, and everyone he cared about countless times before, so seeing it again makes me profoundly nostalgic.
"Something wrong, Master?" I say from my position behind him, combing his entangled long hair with old, practised care. It may be his day off, but if I don't come two times a week and leave him to his own devices, even for one day, he would never take care of himself, and probably die of starvation.
He shoots me an annoyed glance or at least tries his best to do so when he can not fully turn his head. "Gray, I have told you many times. I am no longer your master, nor your teacher. We are fellow equals; you can just call me Waver."
"Oh, really? And how long did it take you to drop the "milady"? I feel like I have earned some well-deserved payback." The wave of nostalgia I am feeling puts me in a good mood, so I felt like teasing him a bit. "But if you don't like what I call you, what about teacher? Professor? Sir?" I channel my inner Reines and adds, "Dad?"
He wasn't drinking anything so he didn't quite sputter, but he did make a very funny strangled sound, which made me laugh for a good minute.
Years ago, very early in my apprenticeship, I had done what most students across both the mundane world and the world of magecraft probably do, and accidentally called my teacher 'dad' when he asked me a question in class while I was distracted. The incident had been extremely mortifying to both of us, and an absolute riot to Reines, so we had agreed to never speak of it again. But I'm no longer a shy country bumpkin, I'm a grown woman now, I can make fun of my past embarrassments!
As my laughter dies down, instead of trying to argue further, he simply sighs, resigned. "Fine, you can stick to 'sir' if it is more comfortable to you, there is no need to tease me like this." He mumbles, less talking to me than to himself. "You used to be so much more quiet and gentle. What happened? Is it Reines's influence?"
Definitely, but I will never tell him that.
And, truth is, I could never call him 'Waver' or 'Mr. Velvet' even if I wanted to. It's not just force of habit, but to me, no matter how old I get, he will always be my master, Lord El-Melloi II, even if I am no longer his apprentice and he is no longer a Lord.
Instead, I ask, "Sir, the report?"
"Right," he says, seeming happy to change the subject. He shakes the sheet of paper for emphasis. "It's a report on France's foremost magical organisation, the Cult of Reason. If you will recall, we crossed paths with them before."
I nod, even though he can't exactly see me. "Monaco, three years ago, right?"
"Precisely."
What had started as a simple favour to find an acquaintance a new body had involved a locked room murder, unearthed secrets of the Escardos family, gang war between American and Italian mafias, a boat chase against a ghost ship, and an attack of a vampire's casino ship masquerading a heist, all during the Monaco Grand Prix. The incident had grown so large that it had resulted in the Cult of Reason sending agents from Paris down to Monaco as reinforcements.
That is how we had met the First Sword of the Cult, named Mademoiselle, no other name. A few years younger than me, she had been a beautiful woman, tanned skin the colour of the desert and soft black springy coils adorning her head, signaling her heritage. High cheekbones, full lips, and almond shaped dark eye brimming with intelligence and determination. She always wore elegant suits, barely hiding her svelte musculature, and was as addicted to caffeine as my master is to tobacco.
She had been accompanied by her apprentice, or Dagger, a young excitable boy named Cédric, who had immediately connected with Flat and both quickly became thick as thieves, to the horrors of both of their mentors. Similar in looks and personalities, it was like Flat had found his long-lost French sibling. Or Cédric had found his long lost Monacan sibling. Or maybe there was no need for qualifiers; with how close Monaco is to France culturally, any difference seems mostly academic to me.
With their help, we had solved the incident, tied up loose ends, and parted on, if not friendly (excepted the terrible duo), at least cordial terms. Just as well, considering the referendum had taken place a few weeks later, the result of which had definitely cooled relations between British and European mages. Had we met them just a month later, things would have ended quite differently.
"Well," my former teacher continues, "the report describes their magecraft as, and I quote, "speculated analysis/Structural Awareness-derivation as a 'house style'," and it bugs me. From what we have seen them do in Monaco and what Flat told us he saw when witnessing it first hand, the Clock Tower's assessment of the magecraft used by the Cult of Reason appears severely outdated."
With his ability to analyse and deconstruct any formula and system of magecraft, coupled with Flat's natural ability to simply sense and actually see them instinctually, there is little magecraft the both of them can't identify. If Flat Escardos is the type of student who knew the answer but never wrote his process on his test papers and got points deducted for it, Waver Velvet is the sort of good student who would always do it and give the correct formula every time.
"Flat said it was a form of astral projection, didn't he?"
"Indeed," he acknowledges. "Unlike other magi who use astral projection to walk into spiritual otherworlds, enter the Reverse Side, or try to reach the Root, instead it seems the Cultists use it only on the physical, material world, to give them a significant boost in situational awareness and thinking prowess."
I recall when I fought side by side with Mademoiselle. How she had dodged attacks going her way with a supernatural grace, how she could formulate plans on the fly much more quickly than most people, the way her ice picks almost always found their targets. Even her footsteps told a lot, always measured, never wasteful or hesitant.
"But that answer seems incomplete to me. The Cult of Reason is a self-proclaimed rationalist, to not say scientistic, organisation, changing magecraft terminology to fit a scientific purview. They even call magecraft itself "the Magical Science". But how does astral projection fit, then? How do you scientifically explain it? You can talk of "out-of-body experience" or "dissociative episodes", but astral projection is very clearly different than anything psychology and neuroscience describe."
He picks his controller back up and starts the process of closing the game and the console, probably aware he would not return to it anytime soon. "To use an example," he continues, even as his eyes are glued to the screen. "Some of the best practitioners of astral projection was an extinct shamanic family of shrine maidens in Japan, which used the ability to channel spirits and gods, and was transmitted from mother to daughter. And a consequence of this power was to eventually lose sight, for the foundation of their magecraft meant that being unable to see the material world comes hand in hand with the ability to peer into the spiritual one. None of this makes any real sense from a scientific perspective."
His console shut down, he half-turns his head to me. "Knowing all this, would an organisation such as the Cult of Reason really have something as mystical and unscientific as their shared collective magecraft?"
He is asking the question rhetorically, but I have known him long enough to know it helped him better to serve as his sounding board when he got in this mood. While struggling with a particularly stubborn hair knot, I ask, "Is it really that strange? You taught me once that it is the usual methods of many forms of modern magecraft: take elements from multiple disparate systems, like science, fiction, or other magecrafts, and blend the good parts together to give birth to a new and unique system."
"Sure," he concedes. "Whether you use the four Western elements, the five Eastern elements, or the chemical elements, and whatever you call the Root, be it Akasha, Arche, Keter, or Taiji, there is no real difference. They are just different terms serving as convenient systems to classify all of reality in the world of magecraft." He winces slightly when I manage to finally entangle the hair knot before continuing. "But the Cult is not like Chaos Magick, it has a clear singular ideological framework from which it sees the world. It is to its advantage to be internally consistent. I think..."
He pauses, looking up at me with almost embarrassment. Predicting what he is going to ask, I roll my eyes and say, "You don't need my permission to have a smoke in your own home. Go ahead."
My mentor has always been considerate about his smoking, ever since we first met, but this feels a bit much. As if no longer being master and apprentice means we are total strangers now. True, when I first arrived in London, I didn't like the smell very much. Even now, if someone else was smoking, I would have thought that it was unpleasant. However, it is a different story whenever my mentor lights a cigar.
From his pocket, he slowly pulls out his cigar case, a metal box with the embossed pattern of the second pentacle of Mercury on it. Retrieving a cigar, a cigar cutter, and a match, he cuts the tip of the cigar with the cutter. Perhaps because the subject of our discussion was the Cult of Reason, the cutter brings to my mind the picture of a guillotine. When the small piece cut off at the mouth of the cigar falls off into an ash tray below it, it looks like a person's head falling into a basket.
Very slowly, like he is reverently completing the steps to a ritual, he strikes a match, lights the tip, raises it to his lips and takes a deep pull. A thick plume of sweet, gorgeous smoke fills the air with the aromatic smell of cigars, quickly permeating the room, saturating the furniture. The smell quickly soothes me, relaxes me, and I feel myself exhaling all the little tightnesses and tensions from my body and my mind. The nostalgia is even stronger now, and it's like I'm fifteen again, new and overwhelmed by the bustling city of London, which I could only see as a giant graveyard; but safe in this small apartment full of old books, video game boxes, and the smell of cigar. I feel the same way when I smell the tea and the confectioneries Reines prepares for us, and when I hear the sound of a noisy classroom.
I am not religious, but I imagine this feeling of homeliness and refuge is what believers feel when they enter the temple they worship in and smell the holy incense within.
As for my teacher, the cigar between his lips and the smoke wafting around him change his image completely. He is no longer a middle-aged man wearing washed-out complementary sweatshirt and sweatpants, sitting on his couch playing video games; now, he is once more Professor Waver Velvet, head of the Department of Modern Magecraft, standing on a podium in front of a blackboard, ready to teach the masses of students before him. Whether he was in the comfort of his own home, stranded in a strange new land, or surrounded by enemies seeking to kill him, his cigars, just like his Savile Row suits, would always be his weapons and his armour.
After completing the ritual, he speaks.
"Time for a lecture, then."
Pulling his cigar from his mouth, he puffs out a cloud of smoke as he starts. "I am speculating, but I suspect the source of the Cult's main magecraft lies in its very name: Reason. But before elaborating, I don't think I need to tell you about the three essential elements composing a human being according to magecraft, do I?"
I almost shake my head no before I remember he can't see the gesture. "I remember," I say out loud instead. "In the world of magecraft, a human is seen as being made up of three components: the body, the mind, and the soul. It cannot be simply cells and proteins, these three elements need to be bound together to be recognised as a 'person'."
Of course he didn't need to ask me, but the professor's approach to teaching was by taking things step-by-step, always checking how much the learning party knew before moving to the next part. Come to think of it, Rin was similar in this way, though both of them would get angry if I told them.
More than that, he knows how extremely familiar with the subject I am, and his question had been his way of letting me not having to answer and move on. I am, after all, the 'Body' of King Arthur, the vessel created for the Mind and the Soul of the Once and Future King to inhabit. I was the perfect proof of concept for the subject, instantly recognisable by the face of the stranger I have been given and hated for years. Even now I still get bad dreams of my bones and my muscles being painfully rearranged and waking up with another completely different body. I still fear going to sleep one night and never waking up, because someone else took my body when I was asleep and the "Gray" who wakes up the day after is not me at all.
Thinking about my nature always brings with it painful memories like that and of my life in my home village, so I am not surprised when I sense movement within my cloak.
"Hihihihi!" comes the shrill laugh of Add, muffled within my cloak. He has been silent up until now, so I thought he was asleep. "Don't worry, Gray! This is good news! Even if your mind is dumber than the average person, you are still a human being!"
Without a word, I stop combing and reach within my cloak, grabbing the cage with one hand and taking it out. The small cube within takes one look at my face and understanding of his fate dawns in his cartoonishly engraved eyes, and his cartoonishly engraved mouth opens in disbelief.
"W-wait, Gray, think about this! It was a joke! Just taking the piss between best friends!"
Securing my hold on the cage, I begin swinging it around as hard as I could like an athlete going for the gold medal in hammer throwing. After hearing Add's pitiful scream, the sound going high and low following the movement of my improvised Chair-o-Planes, I now feel refreshed and stop.
I know he was just trying to cheer me up, but did he have to be so dickish about it?
Still, I whisper a brief "thank you" before placing the Mystic Code back in its place.
Completely unfazed by Add's antics due to being used to them, my mentor has waited patiently before starting again. "As I was saying, the three elements of a human. Now, the body and the soul being seen as separate has been a view present in almost every culture across the world and throughout history. The spark of life, of consciousness, and of Being, the Self that makes you you has always been seen as living separately from the physical body, so that it would survive it after death and enter the afterlife, the ultimate spiritual realm. However, the mind, the process of thinking and having thoughts, has had a similar history for just as long, before the brain being established as the source of the mind."
Taking a drag on his cigar, he continued. "The ancient Egyptians had a multi-faceted conception of the soul, which included the ba, the heart, which was the seat of emotion, will, and thought. Chinese philosophy speaks of xin, the heart-mind, centre of cognition and emotion, seen as separate from the dual hun and po, the yang soul and the yin soul. And in the Tipitaka, the Pāli Canon of Theravada Buddhism, citta, manas, and viññāṇa are used interchangeably as overlapping and complimentary terms for the mind and mental processes. But for the purpose of this lecture, the more relevant conception I will focus on comes from the Greeks."
While talking, he takes the cigar out of his mouth and moved it around to spell out the foreign words I was unfamiliar with. His words fills the room along with the smoke from his cigar. "In Greek mythology, Metis was the goddess of thought, wisdom, and general mental behaviour. She was a nymph, the daughter of Titans, and Zeus's first wife."
That's surprising. Even with my average knowledge of Greek mythology, I knew that the chief of the gods, Zeus, was constantly portrayed as a philanderer and rapist who constantly cheated on his wife, the goddess Hera.
Sensing my confusion, my mentor adds, "Metis didn't stay his wife for long. When she got pregnant, a prophecy stated that she was destined to bear a son greater than his father. Fearful of living the same fate as his father and his grandfather, overthrown by his own son, Zeus tricked Metis into turning into a fly and swallowed her. An ironic solution, considering she had been the one to provide him with a potion to make Kronos vomit his devoured children and Zeus's siblings."
Gods eating gods...
It sounds like a very fantastical premise, but to me, it only brings memories of an old dear friend. I'm sure it's the same for my teacher.
Holding the cigar between two finger, he slowly spins it in the air, a habit he has picked up from his lectures in the El-Melloi classroom. "This however did not stop the pregnancy," he continues. "Zeus soon got headaches, so painful that he asked Hephaestus to split his head open to make it stop. And when they did, out of the divine brains came a fully grown Athena, armed and clad in armour. She had been birthed inside her father and her mother had given her weapons and armour, which she had used to cause Zeus's headaches. Thus, due to the circumstances of her birth, Athena, even more than her mother, came to be seen as representing the act of thinking, the Greeks' externalisation of the rational intellect, or reason, flying down from the heavens to impart thoughts. It is very apparent in the Homeric works: in The Iliad, Athena acts as the voice of reason for Achilles, convincing him not to kill Agamemnon and telling him to stop pursuing Hector around the Trojan walls. In The Odyssey, she implants thoughts in Odysseus' head during his journey home from Troy, giving him plans so he can escape the obstacles thrown his way."
As if he was directing an orchestra, my master waves his cigar around in the empty air in front of him. "This portrayal of Athena, already the goddess of wisdom and warcraft, as the personification of reason itself would endure for centuries in Western tradition, long after her religion died out. It's to the point that, when the Cult of Reason turned Notre-Dame into a Temple of Reason, and removed the statues of the Virgin Mary to replace them with statues of the Goddess of Liberty and the Goddess of Reason, the latter was explicitly modelled on Athena. While statues of the other pagan gods disappeared from France, as did the Christian God himself, a statue of Athena stood in Paris in the centre of the Place de la Révolution, where it watched over the guillotine."
Saying so, he pulls heavily on his cigar, giving me time to digest his words.
I do not think I am smart, though I do not think of myself as stupid like I once did. I lack knowledge in a lot of areas, and the French Revolution is one of them. Even though I am almost certain it is wrong, I can only see it as a fight against oppression and for liberty eventually devolving into an orgy of madness and violence. And the idea of Athena, enshrined as the goddess of reason by believers of no god, standing over the symbol of unreason, with countless sacrifices of people's heads and brains in her name...
It is striking, to say the least.
The direction my thoughts take do make me pause. Something in what he said and how I interpret it bugs me. "Wait, isn't the Cult of Reason atheistic?" I ask. "Are you saying this is a lie, and the foundation of their magecraft comes from unwitting worship of Athena as the concept of Reason?"
He seems surprised at my question, pausing before taking another puff. He seems to realise something and puts his free hand on his forehead, massaging it lightly. "Ah, I can see why you would think that when I say it like that. But no, that is not my hypothesis. As I said earlier, I think the Cult has and needs a consistent worldview, so having it all actually be secret worship would be contradicting myself. It would be the same as calling you a Christian for being knowledgeable in Christian burials. My apologies, Gray, I got side tracked talking about Athena."
After taking a long puff from his cigar, he speaks again. "Athena was only meant to showcase the Greeks' view of making thinking and mental behaviours into external factors outside the physical body. And this view would express itself itself outside of mythology and into philosophy. The famous Socrates claimed to have a daimonion," he once more spells the word out with his cigar, "a spiritual being not to be confused with our modern conception of 'demons'. Said being, according to him, frequently warned him, in the form of a "voice", against mistakes but never told him what to do. His student Plato theorised that reason is a faculty of the human mind that cannot be explained in terms of the physical body, and that, actually, the physical body cannot experience the true, abstract, higher reality of the world, that consists of the very concepts of all that exists, concepts which he called Forms; the body can only experience shadows, and only the mind can perceive truth directly in the ways gods do."
I frown. That sounds familiar. "Did Plato just describe the Root?"
"It's uncannily similar, yes," he replies with another puff on his cigar. "The repository of all knowledge outside of the world and all that. But I will talk about the relationship between Platonism and Western magecraft another day if you're still interested." With a wry smile, my master raised an eyebrow. "Incidentally, Plato believed the name "Athena" came from the Greek words for "gods" and "mind", or theos and nous respectively, meaning something like "divine mind" or "mind of the gods". Though nowadays it is largely agreed that her name came from the city she was the patron of, Athens."
Touching his now short cigar, he narrows his eyes slightly. "Greek philosophy on the nature of the mind would start one of the main branches of Western philosophy, the philosophy of the mind, centred around the mind–body problem. How to reconcile the physicality of the body with the seemingly non-physical nature of thoughts? The first and most famous to formulate this problem was René Descartes, a French philosopher in the 17th century."
I know that he is making deliberate connections with France for my benefit and to explain a French organisation, but with the degree to which it is appearing, it is starting to seem more like a curse.
But the name Descartes sounds...
"Why does the name sound familiar?"
My mentor smiles at that. "He is most famous for the philosophical assertion Je pense donc je suis, or I think therefore I am in English. But you might remember it better by how it is said in Latin: Cogito ergo sum."
Cogito ergo sum.
Ergo.
It had been the name he had given himself from what little he remembered, which would later be discovered to be from the incantation to activate his own personal form of magecraft.
Just hearing the name brings fond memories of my friend from years ago. The mention of god eating earlier had stirred up some memory, but this is much more vivid. Memories of our travels together flow unbidden in my mind, laughing and fighting together alongside Rin and Luvia, all the while helping my master find a cure for both of our conditions.
I should ask them if they have talked to him lately.
"I miss him," I say fondly.
"As do I." He sighs. "But getting back to Descartes. In a period of scientific revolution, he still believed that the mind is a non-physical substance, not part of the brain or the physical body but outside them, wholly separate. To him, the human body was a machine made of physical matter, but the mind was a separate thing made of "thinking substance". The human being was a union of mind and body, and the only way they interacted, and for the mind to have its effect on the brain and body, was through the pineal gland. Essentially, René Descartes argued that the mind and the body exist as two separate, distinct entities."
His wording makes something click in my mind.
"So that's your theory."
He nods. "Yes. My hypothesis is that the Cult of Reason somehow weaponised mind–body dualism and turned it into magecraft, and astral projection is the closest approximation of its manifestation. It is from a philosophical theory by the Father of Modern Philosophy and Modern Mathematics, closer to scientific than mystical. It also a fairly recent magecraft, allowing even New Age magi of barely one generation and with few Magic Circuits to master it regardless of talents. And it is not the heirloom of just one family, allowing its collective use by the Cult's members." He frowns. "Well, that is my first theory. My second is that the resemblance with Atlas' Memory Partition hints at the Cult having copied Atlasian alchemy somehow. It could have reasonably happened during Napoleon's campaign in Egypt, and the man was said to have brought back with him an oraculum, a "book of fate" capable of predicting the future..." He shrugs. "But this is too conjectural, even for me."
The name Atlas brings to mind the Atlas alchemists we had met, and how they had acted more like living calculators than humans. Thinking of Mads' cold attitude hiding a fiery determination underneath, or Cédric's frank and exuberant personality, the idea that they could be in any way similar feels ridiculous.
Thinking of Atlas and the Mind separate from the Body also reminds me of a girl with the same cursed face as me. But I do not want to think about it. Not right now.
My former teacher places his cigar in the ash tray. The thin cigar, its purpose now fulfilled, gives off a small trail of smoke that quickly vanish, signalling that the conversation has come to an end.
It's like a spell has been broken, or like a religious service has just ended. The quiet and silence in the room is suddenly shattered, and I can now hear the noise of the living London outside like I had just exited a tunnel. As always, the city is alive despite the late hours, and filled with all kinds of sounds, from the music blasting from radios and televisions, to the voices of the people walking in the streets, the sound of car engines, the cries of children, dogs barking, and the noises of construction work. All of it formed a harmony, the beating heart of the metropolis.
The artificial lights shine through the window, further dispelling the previously melancholy atmosphere of the room. The only remaining trace is the lingering smoke from the cigar floating visibly in the light.
For a moment, I stay silent as I mull over the conclusion. The combing is over, so I put the comb down and switch to my brush, getting to work anew. I slowly draw the brush through his hair, relishing in the soothing, repetitive and rhythmic movements. Judging by his small sigh of contentment, I am not the only one.
I address him before he falls asleep. "You were right then, earlier. When you said the name Cult of Reason was a clue about the magecraft they use."
"Do remember it is still speculation on my part." His eyes are closed, his voice drowsy. He seems almost asleep. "Without confirmation from a Cult member either way, it is still just my own guesses."
"Still, it sounds convincing." I hesitate before asking, the idea making me uncomfortable. "Are you...are you going to tell Policies? About your suspicions?"
"I don't see why I should," he says, to my relief. "It's not like we are at war with the Cult and need an advantage. The only situation I could see the relevance is..."
His voice abruptly trails off and he falls silent. He is unconsciously rubbing the back of his right hand, as if he's expecting something to be there. His eyes looks ahead and seems glued to the TV screen, but I can tell he doesn't see it; he is looking into the distance, far, far beyond the TV.
Even if he had been looking at the screen, he could have seen through the reflection the painting hanging behind me: Alexander Cuts the Gordian Knot.
During the Holy Grail War, are the painful, painful words he could not say.
In a few months, a Holy Grail War will take place on European soil. And despite all his efforts, despite Reines leveraging her influence as a Lord and his former students petitioning and putting pressure, my mentor was still not chosen to participate. The role of representative of the United Kingdom in the conflict had been given to Sophia Archleonore, a prodigy of the Department of Summoning.
He has once again been denied the chance to fulfill his promise, to see his King again.
It has been more than two decades since he made that promise to his Servant. How long does he have to wait? Another decade? Another twenty years? For the rest of his life? How much more rejections, missed opportunities, and lost chances does he have to suffer through?
How many more times do I have to watch him break into pieces, powerless to do anything?
The unfairness of it all brings heat to my eyes, but I refuse to shed a tear or I won't be able to stop. It wouldn't do to cry in front of him for his sake, it would only make him feel guilty. So the best I can do for him is to be here, in this moment, with him, trying to communicate as much comfort and consolation into my brushing as I could.
I don't know how effective I'm being, but I can feel him becoming less tense and relax at my touch. That's something at least.
We do not need to speak. He knows I am here for him, and maybe, for now, that's enough.
Idly, my mind wanders back to the Cult of Reason. Not to their magecraft, but their motives, what they sought. Their raison d'être.
The whydunnit, as my teacher would say.
In the world of magecraft, where anyone can shapeshift and the methods used by magecraft are near limitless, the only thing that matters is the motivation of the mage. Find what they want, and you can understand what they do.
I look at my former master, at Waver Velvet. A man who swore an oath to the Heroic Spirit Iskandar to be his follower, and seeking to meet him again.
Other mages, to not say most mages, pursue the Root. Others still want to save humanity from extinction. Many others seek to go back to the Age of the Gods. Even spellcasters have a specific reason why they use magecraft. Even I do. The Cult of Reason, despite favouring science, adhering to empiricism, and only being interested in the mundane world out of humanism, are still magi.
Even outside the combat applications, someone came up with their magecraft long ago for a specific reason. Someone founded the Cult for a specific reason, and magi flocked to it for their own reasons as well. But what were they?
My master told me once long ago that mages are those who reject the impossibility of reaching one single truth in your lifetime. That human experience tended to consist of a multitude of truths, not one singular reality.
You cannot be a user of magecraft and not be driven by a singular, impossible purpose. Even if you had the ability to see all of the universe and comprehend all of its components, you would still be blinded and fixated by your one motive.
Because that's the kind of creatures mages are. No matter what names they call themselves.
So what is the Cult of Reason blind to?
I just wanted to say this is a very good piece of writing, I loved Waver's perspective- theories of what the Cult of Reasons magical system is and where it could have come from. Gray's viewpoint was well executed as was her musings on her unique circumstance. Good show.
- Location
- Earth
- Pronouns
- He/Him/They/Them
This is fantastic holy crap. I feel so bad for waver he spent all of his luck coming across Rider's Mantle and stealing it from Kayneth and now he's missing every other shot he's getting at being a master.
Rancorious
Continue? Yes or No.
Rancorious
Continue? Yes or No.
Now that I have your attention, NEXT UPDATE WHEN OMICRON?
When you check his profile you can see that Omicron has been steadily active on other cool projects on this site. It's likely just a case of this particular work fitting his current mood and muse less than those other things.
Rancorious
Continue? Yes or No.
Yeah, I know. I was just joking/coping at not getting any updates to this banger of a series.
fishsicles
ate a calculator to gain its power
- Location
- Alexander Horned Earth
- Pronouns
- They/Them
I just got linked this and caught up on it in a day - and while Berserker certainly seems Mordredesque, I can't help but wonder if something else is at play.
Berserker is "a thing of steel", with "thicker plates than any harness you've ever seen". It has spine-like joints. Its sword is not meant for human hands. It is "a machine, implacable, inevitable". Blows that strike it make sparks, it roars, it produces lightning and dark flames and black wind. While it seems inhuman, there is a mind behind it.
We had the option to summon the Terror as Berserker - did the Brits summon the Industrial Revolution?
Berserker is "a thing of steel", with "thicker plates than any harness you've ever seen". It has spine-like joints. Its sword is not meant for human hands. It is "a machine, implacable, inevitable". Blows that strike it make sparks, it roars, it produces lightning and dark flames and black wind. While it seems inhuman, there is a mind behind it.
We had the option to summon the Terror as Berserker - did the Brits summon the Industrial Revolution?
Rancorious
Continue? Yes or No.
That is, without a doubt, one of the coolest ideas I've heard for a servant in a while and greatly fitting for the British faction (we need more inhuman/conceptual servants), but I am 98% sure that's Mordred because the Industrial Revolution wouldn't wear a (damaged) standard, knight armor, and swing a sword with red accents. It would shoot you.
fishsicles
ate a calculator to gain its power
- Location
- Alexander Horned Earth
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Would it? Blades and blood-red cloth are entirely appropriate from where I'm sitting - if you want to have some nightmares, look up what happened to people who got caught in a power loom. Knight armor is a classical symbol of steel in warfare - heavy plate steel is heavy plate steel, so if pushed into humanoid form, it'd make sense. As for firearms, they were used long before the Industrial Revolution, and the concept of total war/industrialised warfare came well into it, so I'm not sure the connection would be that strong.
I'm far from certain of the theory, but I think the Mordred connections are a little too on the nose. Mordred also doesn't seem to be someone the Brits would go for given the context of this War, even as a last-minute summon - after all, it's unlikely anyone in the rest of Europe is going to be bringing Arturia out to play. (France could in theory have pulled Lancelot or de Troyes, I guess, but that's really the only potential matchups that Mordred might have an edge on.)
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Rancorious
Continue? Yes or No.
I see where you're going with the factory accidents connection, but I feel like if that really is the case then the servant shouldn't stick to only a single weapon, and would probably be using much more crude, or at least more plain blades. Maybe having the armor's edges shoot out during combat to catch the enemy off guard and sever pieces of them off?