So the talk about letter sending and pen-pals got this in my head.
But fuck me doing purple-pose on purpose is hard, and I haven't written in a while and I think Grammarly now has a grudge against me for just not just ignoring the 'too wordy sentence' comment, but using it as a good sign.
but here we are, the thoughts of a 'well-educated moron'.
Pen-Pals?
Sometime in the unclear future….
When the common Asur thinks of earth-shattering discoveries in magic, if they do think of the admittedly often less thrilling stories than the tales of Clashing steel and dragons breath; They think of the bards of Avelorn singing of the virtues of the triumphant discoverer and of great marvels of magic and might. Or possibly the shock and screaming of the debate hall and the last poems of those that fell to despair as their centuries of work turn to irrelevance at the revelling of a single fact just found.
But the truth is that revelation among the learned in magic is most often ignored when it first takes life, belittled as it grows, and then must fight off and survive the assassinations of 'enlightened' mages as they are driven to madness to be proven fools.
It is even worse, when the revelations come from the wind-twisted-and-turned mind of a human apprentice, as those who witnessed the drama around letting the works of Kadon into the core study of Ghur and scrollwork can attest.
A drama about to be played out again in the coming years: suppose I was a betting lady.
I think they should be forgiven of any sin; if there is any to lay on them for simply revealing the truth, those diplomats sent to the king to the tribes of Sigmar.
For when they, the great mages of the Tower, were handed a curiosity sealed in bottles by Daroir of Nagarythe as a gift from the humans, they only thought to humour the pride of those learning to walk and to possible to show the high loremaster Telcis that his odd students have taken another small, but wonderful, step on the path of their betters.
They could not have possibly known that the Aethyr-Oriour or Aethyric Vitae, as named a bit crudely by its creator, was genuinely new. Even then, its true significance was largely unnoticed when the first small batch arrived in the Tower.
In privacy, I can admit to some slight fascination and fondness with following the growth of the High Loremasters odd students. Like a distant aunt occasionally watching the clan children learn and play with a smile. As long as my peers know better than to say such to my face! So while I would never do something so embarrassing and gash as ask to be one in the high loremasters office to look through the papers and trinkets that came from distinct lands of humans, others must have noticed that I rarely fought with true spit when the task was forced upon me. So It was not wholely happenstance that I was there when the bottles of the Aethyr-Oriour was first unwrapped from its protective wrap of wool and leather, or that the name of journeywoman Weber was not wholly new to me.
It was pretty to the eye, but to the mind's eye, it was beautiful, so if I sinned in not reading the attached paper but for the title and a few words of the abstract before spinning the bottle in my hands to look at it from all angles, tipping small drops on the table to feel and sense and then to poke those drops with magic to see it burst into the winds with delight? Then it was a sin shared by my fellow readers as they crowned around the same table and bottle.
A sin shared by the growing crowd of onlookers as they walked past the opened door and noticed something afoot, always eager for new knowledge of the arcane. A sin shared by the higher-ups! Drawn through whispers faster than the wind, who were quick to bully and browbeat the, the now slightly dwindled, supply out of others hands and divide the vials up between themselves to be sent to their private labs. one bold old fool even daring to snatch some my fingers like a brute! I would have clawed his eyes out then and there for the insult if I didn't know that he once turned a Keeper inside out in his youth...
But could I truly blame the others for not thinking about the words of the discoverer? My personal interest aside, humans very rarely bring information to the table, with their understanding half-developed at its best, or what we, the greatest of the loremasters of the Asur, could not figure out ourselves more at a look?.
As seems to be typical of the human triumphs, it was only the high loremaster himself that decided to flip through the pages, just to have a sad glimpse in his eye and a disappointed frown on his face has he shaken it while putting it down and walked back to his office—obviously deciding that the writer must have come to all the wrong answers to the results of their experiments. A common outcome, but one I believe, quietly, that the humans are showing improvement with.
But unlike others, I did know the writer's name, for this was not the first of her work that found my interest. So I know her work to be of an almost, almost Asur quality! And so was not so sure that that they were as wrong as he assumed off hand.
Not long ago, I had very much toying with the idea of travelling to the old colony that is now the home of the tribes of Sigmar to give some light guidance to the locals. While I would never make, or allow without harsh rebuke, slander against the esteemed Teclis' abilities to teach. For having sat through more than one of his lectures, I can attest that it is his mind and passion that has led so many young maidens among the scholarly to his bed despite his unfortunate complexion. But much of his lessons had been focused on spells useful to the waging of war. Denying the troubled species the chance to gain much-needed enlightenment and self-betterment in the engagement of other implementations of the magical arts. I had once dreamed of compiling a grimoire of useful magics, taken from each of the eight lores and translated into their tongue, that would be safe, useful, and would have as little use on the battlefield as possible in order to help cultivate non-military advancement in magic among the humans. To become the shaper of magical artiest has Teclis was to their warriors; to bring them culture. I had even gotten as far in my plans as to get into contact with a passable speaker of Tar-Eltharin from the village of Altdorf to start completing my notes for translation.
Admittedly, My enthusiasm was dulled greatly when not only did this translater recognise the names of some (alright, many) of my chosen spells, form a friend among the local magic users, either Teclis was more thorough than I assumed or somehow, the humans had gotten their hands on the spells in the far past.
And it was dashed when I learned the stories on how the spells I wished to gift them were not quite as proofed against misuse as I had assumed.
But where was I? Oh, yes, Mathilde Weber. While I had found myself just a bit backed tracked on how to begin my plans enlighted uplifting, I still used my placement in the office of the High Loremaster to keep track of the humans for any that might be moldable to a higher pursuit than just base violence. It was in this vigil that allowed me to come across an adorable invention of a spell called the 'Mathilde's Multidimensional Aethyric Polysevirric Projection', Free painting with magic, how wonderfully lovely! Though I wanted to spank that brat Olenus over the head for taking such an artistic idea from one of his juniors and twisting it into something so base as military maps and then claiming credit for himself. (it seems even the simple humans are not free of the military men taking more than their fair share and then some!)
But after spotting this diamond in the rough, I had gotten the office of primitive anthropology and Old-World events to have any copies of her work that was sent on to the Tower from the colleges go directly to my desk… possible through the, um, less than authorised use of the high loremasters seal when I last acted as his attendant... but really, he is always happy to let others deal with some of his paperwork for him. As long as the important reports are on his desk, he is happy to leave the rest to those helping him. (though I may now have a copy of a language translation of those vermin that I most definitely am not supposed to know even exists. But as far as anyone is aware, that seal was never opened… I think.)
But anyway, through a close eye on her short but interesting career, I do think I've found what I expected but am sad to see, a soul stifled by the militarism of her underdeveloped species—jumping from topic to topic in search of artistic releases! From magical cartography and the study of exotics and unsee magical species, to the unravelling of the barbaric minds and methods of the orc shaman and close observation of the behaviours of the vail undead and even dipping her and into magical mycology. This was a surprisingly keen mind in search of inspiration, and who could see that there is more value to the beauty of the winds than just raw violence, and so should not be dismissed if she had finally found something worth bragging about.
So I, as someone humble, generous and patient enough to read the work of humans, with actual interest at that, I sat down with a cup of wine later that day to read.
… it was fine? Liquid-like Aethyr that stayed relatively stable in this world by bypassing the process that spits the focuses of the other side at the gates. Fascinating, and with many potential, if maybe not likely repeatable, experiments just begging to be tested. But with only one incredibly unlikely to be recreated, and by the sounds of it, very stretched thin, source of the substance, it was destined to be a fringe study. Disappointed, I left the topic to return to my own experiments and studies. Though happy at least one child found an area, they can actually develop the non-violent arts of magic.
It was a few days later, once again sorting through the messages from the human lands, the boring sort of letter sorting at that, as there was no primitive, modern or ancient, enactments or toy's to poke at. (A task that is interesting despite what that Eataine-cow moans, those soul marks let the humans do such odd things… not truly useful compared to just using the correct wind for the job, but fun to pull apart and marvel at the workings. The fact that was not enough for her showing once again that she didn't belong in the Tower) that the High Loremaster barged in with an odd look on his face and asked for that paper again.
I was glad that it was Mage Athenfin that was asked and not myself, first because he deserved the embarrassment of being found not filing papers away properly for mocking my theory defence a few years back, the Chracean ass. And second, because I needed the time to run back to my study and back to slip it, and a few other works I did not ask to remove, back into the room.
But, after moving a few tables, I 'found' it wedged under a tea stand (honestly Athenfin, you really do deserve that dressing down if that's where you left it). With force, the high loremaster ripped open the papers and began reading through its contents… again… and again, and again. The look on his face turned to annoyance, then frustration, then worry until finally a calm and intense focus.
Then, suddenly, he shook his head and dropped the papers as if they stung him like those long-tailed bugs depicted in the tomb lands, demanded that someone write to his human students for more samples of the Aethyr-Oriour for himself, and then stormed off.
And while he was the first, over the weeks, either through their own tinkering or disturbed by the mutters of their peers behind closed doors. The other official or unofficial lords of the Tower would find their way into the room, ask for the paper and then leave after asking to send for more samples in their name and with rewards that they would give the humans for obeying. While implying that if some rivel were to do the same, to ignore them. But that part was business as usual.
No, what was odd was the looks they had, a few a nervous energy, others worry, some pale as ghosts and one practically spitting fire and denial.
It got to the point where I asked my former sponsor and master what was all the fuss about, only for her to tell me angry to not get involved with such ridiculous drivel!
How dare she treat me as a child! Am I not a master of the High arts in my own right? She may be my former master, but she better not expect me at her garden parties for the next year!
But as any genius knows, it's often only when you let the back of your mind dwell and turn about a topic that truth that wisdom can spring forth. And so one night, the answer to the cause of the issue came to me.
The Aethyr-Oriour had a use, and not just some fringe use or token gimmick, but something fundamentally game-changing in some area of importance that could create a true gap between the haves and the haves not. That's the only thing that can explain the anger of the crowd: someone among the lords used their few drops to create something or did something without meaning to, something that now gives them an edge in some way, while everyone else used their's up playing. And as with many things with the culture of Ulthuan, someone else having something that gives them a leg up that you don't can not be allowed to go unchallenged.
I couldn't help but wonder, was it some type of power stone that works with pure Qhaysh? A staff core that increases the wielder's strength in a way greater than before? An Enchantment booster, And ingredient for rituals, Something more outlandish? Oh, how vexing to know there is a mystery but be helpless to even get a drop of the thing you wish to study!
But suppose the power brokers of the Tower are fighting to even send their letters to the sole owner of the source without sabotages. In that case, A letter from even a loremaster like myself will never make it to the boats if I were to inquire for some of the liquid.
….
Hmmm…
I have had thoughts of travelling to those lands to teach; maybe it would not be so bad to reopen those plans? And I have been eyeing this very human as a first disciple from my plans for their betterment, and if she found herself so moved by my generosity that she would let me into her own resources…
But no, even a human would not fall for such a blatant play, especially one I myself have admitted to being brighter than average. Even if there is truth to my wanting to help the poor primitives, starting with her and those like her.
… But, I have been keeping an eye on her studies and could conceivably be interested in any one of those other topics. And while a demand for the Aethyr-Oriour would likely be blocked by a more powerful rival, a letter of a different topic might be left through if only to study her reply themselves.
So, sitting at my desk, silver-tipped quill in hand, gold-dusted ick in a pot, and enchanted parchment ready, I began to write a letter detailing that I have been studying the transcripts of the Lectures she gave on Waaagh and Peace, and was hoping that she could expand on a few details, inserting a few tidbits about myself and my own studies to hopefully trap her interest for a future series of letters that might give me an excuse to visit if I just so happened to travel near her in the future. Before finally signing it with my clan seal and signature:
Sullasara Wendel, Servant of The White Tower of Hoeth, Tor Yvresse.
I had thoughts of actually doing the letter later, but honestly, it was hard enough to do what was in her head.
