Greenfoot island is heavily forested, with tiny hills surrounding its border. There is only one port for a Sky Galapagos Turtle to land on, after which one reaches the town by a bull-drawn carriage.
I arrived at the port very early in the morning.
The trip from the port to the town took roughly four hours. The port was on the southern edge of the island, wedged between three hills. The town was near the centre of the island.
Orchards surrounded the town, followed by farmland as one got closer to the centre. Most roads bordered fields of wheat, millets and other assorted crops. A river passed through the inner ring of the town, with silos and lumber mills built along the riverside. The centre was the hub of commerce with most buildings putting stalls out front with produce on sale, or turning their entire ground floor into a shop.
All buildings in the town were made out of refined wood, cut stone, or both. The only exception to this was the Mayor’s office which had concrete for its foundation, and bricks for its walls. It was located in the northern half of the town, surrounded by grassland and ranches. A faint smell of dung wafted through the windows in the reception area of the building.
I had a brief chat with Mayor Flint Oakwood. He welcomed me, gave me directions, and offered to let me stay in the office for the night if I needed to.
He also warned me about the eccentricity of the staff at ‘The University Of Sciences And World History’, the university I was there to write a report on.
I thanked him for his show of hospitality, and left for the university.
Everyone walking on the streets of Greenfoot wore loose clothes and drywood sandals. Men carried bags of produce, while women held buckets of water and walking sticks that they used to fend off small animals. Children chased after squirrels and foxes, or played with leather balls. When our carriage passed them by, some of them hopped onto the back for a ride, jumping off when they reached close to their homes.
The coachman was quiet during the entire ride, and only spoke to me as we neared our destination.
[ Transcript From Recorded Audio Titled “Carriage Conversation” ]
[ A slow rhythmic beat of cloven hooves walking over a dirt road ]
Thank you for your permission to record this.
No problem mister. Anyway, as I was asking, you planning to join?
The university? No, I’m here to write a report on them.
[ Sound of branches brushing against the carriage top as the vehicle shudders on the rough gravel road ]
A report?
Yes. I’m a reporter for the ‘Eyes On Islands’ Newspaper.
Oh! Yeah I know that one! My daughter reads that paper to me in the morning. Hey mister, if you write for them, you must be real smart. You’d fit right in at the university.
Does your daughter attend the university?
Ari?
Your daughter’s name?
Yeah, Ari. Her mother gave her that name.
But no, she’s only six. Way too young to attend university. She likes to spend a lot of time there though, hanging out with the professors and all.
Loves telling me about all the things she read in that fancy library of theirs. In fact, she asked to spend the night yesterday. I’ll be picking her up alongside you once you’re done with your business there.
I see. Can I ask you a couple questions about the university?
Mister, I’m not sure whether I’m the right person to ask about that. Never studied a day in my life unless you count cow-rearing, and I ain’t travelled much out of Greenfoot.
That’s exactly why I’d like to ask you a couple more questions. As a local, your inputs will be valuable for the report. Of course, if you’re not comfortable with it, we can end the recording here.
Will I be in the newspaper?
Well… Probably not the front page for a report like this, but yes, you will be mentioned and quoted. Would that be a problem?
No, not at all, mister. I’m just imagining the surprised look on my daughter’s face when she reads me my own words in the morning.
I see. Can you tell me how long you’ve known the staff at the university?
Oh, all my life. Met the Vice-Dean when I was a wee-little kid. She’s a serious type, like you. Very scary looking, but real nice, once you get to know her. Her name’s Ms. Maggy.
There’s actually a framed picture in my house, of my great-great-great grandfather shaking hands with her. Our family’s men always worked as Coachmen so we’re often the ones they call for giving a ride to the students and professors. We also celebrate Harvest Day together.
Your great-great-great grandfather shook hands with the Vice-Dean?
Yeah, she’s one of them Dragonborn folk. They don’t age the same way you and I do.
A Dragonborn?
Yes, sir. She has a mean handshake.
I see. So you ferry the students around?
Yup. Been doing that for around 40 odd years.
Can you tell me about what sort of students you’ve seen attend the university?
Oh, all sorts. Humans, Orcs, Elves, Dwarves. I even once ferried a Goliath around. She couldn’t fit in this carriage, so I used the one at home which is meant for 20 people for her. She was a nice girl, very polite.
Though I must say, they’re all kind of hard to talk to. Both the students and the professors. They use strange words, speak fast and all direct-like. My daughter likes talking to them, but I rarely understand their jabbering. So I just keep my mouth shut and drive.
Young people today are way smarter than we were at their age. It’s honestly a little spooky.
Could you tell me a little about the number of students that come to this university every year?
Oh, um… That’s a hard question, mister. Students travel a lot in and out of the university. Field work, as they call it.
The most students I see coming here are in the beginning of Freyja, next month. Though, it's real unfortunate. I’ve been seeing less and less students come here than I did during my dad’s time. Five, sometimes ten new students every year.
I hope more people come here after reading your article.
Speaking of, why have you come here to write a report on this university, mister?
Oh. Well, my boss asked me to. Said it would be a nice change of pace.
Ahah, I see. I’ve seen a few reporters come to this island, but that’s usually only when elections are taking place. It’s nice to have someone like you from a popular newspaper come here and write about us.
Oh, we’re here! Do hold on to something.
[ Sound of hooves pushing against the gravel path to stop in front of the entrance of the university ]
Thank you for the ride. Also, just so I can get this on record, could you introduce yourself?
Sure! My full name’s Pete Walker, but you can call me Pete.
I’ll be here at the entrance when you’re ready to go. If you find Ari in there, do tell her to come here as well. I hope she hasn’t caused much bother to the professors.
[ End Of Transcript ]
The University Of Sciences And World History had a modestly sized campus. Standing at the entrance, the main academic building was directly in front of me. The student hostels could be seen on the east side, along with empty clotheslines and straw chairs. On the far west was a big empty field, with a tiny shed on the edge. The professor’s housing was behind the main building, but wasn’t visible until I saw it through a window from the inside.
On either side of the long path paved with brick in the centre, were gardens filled with numerous bush sculptures, exotic flowers, and shrubbery. The walk to the main building was long and quiet.
The only sounds I could hear were my own footsteps and the occasional shaking of some of the shrubbery.
At one point, an animal that looked like a squirrel missing its tail, leaped out of one of the bushes, leaving a small trail of blood behind it. It jumped into one of the trees in the surrounding forest, and disappeared from view. The bush, from which the squirrel jumped out, continued shaking for a couple more seconds before going still.
I decided not to investigate that further and walked onward.
The Academic Building looked simple from the outside, with a first floor made of brick, second floor made of refined wood, and rainbow-tinted windows lined up along its walls. Tall wooden double-doors gave way as I walked inside.
The inside of the building betrayed its odd nature, with most walls covered with a random assortment of graffiti or writing. I could read dates, names, calculations, proposals, and much more just from looking at the small section of a wall beside the stairs.
Walking up the steps, I noticed the upper floor was the same way too, with corridors filled with art and writing on the walls. Still, despite the vibrant walls and windows, something stood out. A plain wooden door to one of the classrooms right next to the staircase, with a note in front that read, “FOR THE ‘EYES ON ISLANDS’ JOURNALIST, KINDLY COME INSIDE THIS CLASSROOM”.
The classroom I walked into was tidier than the outside.
Clean, wooden walls, with boards that displayed numerous graphs, charts, and lists of dates. The latest notable date on one of those lists was at the bottom, which reads Boreas 1st, 1,000. Next to it were the words ‘Happy Millenium!’.
The board closest to the door had a heading titled ‘Today’s Schedule’ and pinned to it was one of the letters ‘Eyes On Islands’ had sent to this university, informing them of a journalist’s visit. Three rows of chairs were set in a perfect semi-circle around the professor’s desk.
On the desk was a woman, her hands working fast to sign a large pile of documents. She didn’t speak a word as I walked in. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic scribble of her signature.
She looked human. At least from a left angle. Fair skin, black hair tied in a neat bun, with small brown eyes that seemed to never blink. Even while she was sitting down, one could tell she was tall with her stiff shoulders and straight back.
She could’ve passed off as human, were it not for a row of canines making up her teeth, between which she bit the cap of her pen. Her right arm was also an indicator of her ancestry, as it was covered in large pink scales. Scales which reflected the light from a nearby window, covering the room in tiny pink spotlights that danced around the walls as she wrote.
I sat myself down in one of the chairs and waited. After five minutes, when she was done, she put the cap back on her pen, sighed, looked up, and gave me a polite smile.
She introduced herself. I asked her for an interview on behalf of the ‘Eyes on Islands’ newspaper, to which she agreed.
[ Transcript From Recorded Audio Titled “Interview With Vice-Dean Maggy Mangrove” ]
[ Click of a lock alongside ruffling of paper being placed inside a locker ]
For the sake of the interview, could I ask you to introduce yourself again? A brief of your background and how you ended up getting this job.
Certainly. My name is Maggy Mangrove. I was born in Raijin 89th, 622, to my mother, Margaret Mangrove. She was a human. Died at childbirth.
My father, not so much as you can tell.
[ Sound of scales clinking against one another, similar to chainmail, as Professor Maggy raises her right hand ]
Never met him.
Anyway, I bounced around orphanages until I was 10, by which time I had learnt some basic skills like accounting and financial planning. This allowed me to work at the treasury for The Ivory Kingdom.
The Ivory Kingdom?
Ah yes, you would probably know it as the ‘Republic Of Tusk’ now, wouldn’t you? World’s largest Ivory exporter. It’s quite strange, isn’t it? A monarchy turning into a corporate dictatorship? Makes you wonder whether the revolts in 821 were worth it in the first place.
Right… So, you were born in 622. You must be almost 400 years old?
387 as of now, though I guess that falls under ‘almost’ 400 years old. I’ll admit, I look a lot younger than I am.
I ask because I spoke with Pete Walker earlier, and he mentioned that his…
[ Notes ruffling ]
His great great great grandfather shook hands with you?
Ah right, Gene Walker. A simple man, but a good heart. In fact, he was the one who suggested we build the university we had in mind at this exact location. We’ve credited Gene in our list of Deans as an honorary founder.
You can find the list of founders outside on the walls in front of this classroom.
He was crucial in helping new students and staff settle down here, and helped John and I a lot over the years.
John?
John Adventure.
John Adventure? The legendary explorer and adventurer.
That’s the one.
He’s one of the founders of this university?
Indeed. The one who came up with the idea of this university in the first place.
Were you members of the same adventuring party?
No, nothing of the sort.
We were strangers when I first saw him in person. He came to The Ivory Kingdom on… I believe Agni 72nd, 651, to help with a Mammoth stampede. He was still a scrawny little rookie at the time, but saved two hundred people all by himself. Without killing a single mammoth. Everyone could tell he was special.
But I met him a day later, during the aftermath of the incident. We were in a tea shop. Well, the ruins of a tea shop after a stampede. I remember my spiced tea had more dust than tea leaves in it on that day.
Anyway, John was rambling to his colleagues about this idea of a huge library which collected all the information explorers and adventurers gathered in their quests. He spoke about how if the world had a hub of information that anyone could access and learn from, then new discoveries would start becoming a daily occurance. Wide eyed and with a big grin, he rambled on and on.
Of course, everyone ignored him or laughed at him. It was a silly idea. Explorers and adventurers got into their business for gold and treasure, not to spread knowledge. Eventually, all his colleagues walked out, leaving just him and I in the ruins of the still-running tea shop.
[ Long Pause ]
…Then what happened?
I’m sorry, I’m trying to remember what came over me that made me approach him. I can’t recall.
You approached him?
Yes, and I told him how unfeasible his idea was. Most people couldn’t be incentivised to work purely for the sake of gathering and spreading knowledge. Not unless they were compensated. And those who traded in information were very protective of their secrets.
I just don’t remember what compelled me to say all that to him.
I see…
Well, I could go on and on about how much of a pain he was to deal with in my youth, but you’ll probably learn just as much about him, if not more, from reading his memoires.
Long story short, Freyja 1st, 670, nine years, three months, and 28 days later after our first meeting, we had the funds and friends in high places needed to build this university in the rural island of Greenfoot that you see today.
And what happened to John Adventure?
Well, you know as well as I do, what happened to him.
Did he tell you anything in particular on the day before he left?
Well, he told me to ‘keep things running’. And that's what I’ve been doing. Keeping this university running, by whatever means possible.
It’s interesting though. Since our inception and to this day, We’re still listed as an ‘Explorers Guild’ in the Guilds Approval House, or GAH for short.
Huh. Would you consider this institution to be similar to an Explorer’s Guild?
Well, on the surface, it can appear like one, yes. Especially when we send our students out for field work. And it doesn’t hurt to teach our students basics of adventuring like combat and resource management. In fact, our institution has helped nurture students who went on to be very successful adventurers.
But I assure you, this institute prioritises education above all else. We don’t do quests. We focus more on research expeditions. Our other professors are in-charge of escorting them through those and ensuring their safety. They’re very capable.
Have you ever personally escorted the students on these expeditions?
I’m the Vice Dean, which means I mostly handle the financial and administrative side of this institution. Rare are those expeditions where these subjects are of great importance, which means it is rare that I get to lead expeditions.
Still, I’ve managed to teach a few students here and there over the course of my long career.
What subjects did you teach them?
Diplomacy Tactics And World History Through Trade Deals. It’s easy to teach history when you’ve lived through a lot of it.
Bit off-topic, but did you happen to hear about the negotiations for West Mountainside Island of 998, between the Mountaineer’s Guild and Brunt Corporation?
Brunt Corp was planning to tear the island apart for natural resources, and the Mountaineer’s Guild were threatening war over it.
That’s the one. The Mountaineer’s Guild were brave, but threatening war against Brunt Corporation was like an ant taking on an elephant. It wouldn’t have gone well.
Yes, but it never came to that. Internal negotiations led to Brunt Corp leaving the island alone.
Yes, and it was thanks to the efforts of one of my students, Sally Stevens.
To be completely honest with you, I’m surprised it reached a point where her help was needed in the first place. Not sure how Brunt Corp thought it was a good idea to start mining for resources on an island that’s literally floating at a ninety degree angle.
But oh well. They finally saw reason after she pulled up past mining expedition records on that island by other kingdoms, and did an analysis of the huge costs to the company if they were to start mining there. It would’ve been a lose-lose for everyone.
Stevens was always good with numbers. She just needed the data, which I was more than happy to provide. You’ll find a few diplomats here and there in the United Islands Confederation that I still have regular contact with.
Oh, I didn’t know ‘Sweet Talk’ Stevens studied here before working as a negotiator.
I’m sorry?
Did I say something wrong?
No, it’s just… How do you know her?
Well, she’s a big deal in the United Islands Confederation, in the Central Archipelago. Very righteous young woman, who causes all sorts of problems for the Grace Empire and Brunt Corp. They call her the ‘Number Crunching Nightmare’ during negotiations.
Yes, all that’s public knowledge, but not many people know her nickname ‘Sweet Talk’ outside of private diplomatic conversations and personal friends. Do you know her personally?
Oh… Um, no. I must have read that somewhere.
I see… I’m sorry, I never caught your na-
Excuse me…
[ Sound of a wooden chair scraping against the floor as the reporter stands up ]
This has been a very informative interview, but I’ve sent more letters to the other professors here and I don’t want to keep them waiting. I’d also like to not take up too much of your time.
Right, yes…
Thank you for coming here, and for the interview. If you need me for anything, I’ll be here.
Thank you, and good day.
[ End Of Transcript ]
Walking out of the classroom, I could see the board of deans that Vice Dean Maggy was talking about.
Even though there was no light shining on it, the words on the smooth stone board glittered in bright gold. Each name glowed faintly, not just bright enough to stand out in the shade.
The heading of the board read ‘Deans Of The University Of Sciences And World History’.
On the left side were a list of the names of all the Deans, with the top name being ‘John Adventure’. The board had several more names, 14 more to be exact. The last name read ‘Griffith MacGuffin’, but there was a name in the far left corner, in small letters, which read ‘Honorary Dean: Gene Walker’.
On the right side was a long quote from the current Dean. It read:
‘Towards Greater Understanding Of Our Magical World’
That is the motto of our university, penned by John Adventure himself.
One thing to note here is that the word ‘Magical’, is not used in the literate sense here. Not to say our world isn’t magical. There are plenty of wizards, sorcerers, and elementals out there that, with just a flick of their finger, can prove that our world is full of magic.
No, I mean magic in the more metaphorical sense. Something that gives us a sense of mystery, a sense of wonder. Something that brings out a childlike curiosity within us.
Now, this may seem like an oxymoronic sentence. After all, something only feels magical when its secrets remain unknown to us. Magic stops feeling like magic once we understand it. The illusion fades away, the mystery is gone, and we’re left both smarter and slightly disappointed.
Was John Adventure’s motto meant to mislead? Did he promise something contradictory by its very nature? Is our very foundation built on hypocrisy?
Well, I personally doubt Mr. Adventure had thought about it as deeply as you and I are at this moment. He was a romantic at heart, and used charming words to capture the hearts of the people he was talking to.
I do not consider myself to be a poet, and thus cannot dissect his words through a literary lens. But I would like you to follow along my train of thought regarding the logic behind our university’s motto.
See, in greater understanding of the world, we, of course, become smarter. The things that once enchanted us as mysteries, now simply bore us as simple facts of life. But a truly inquisitive mind will not stop there. More answers for them, often lead to even more questions.
Questions like why do we live on islands? Were these islands always here, or were they made before our existence? Did someone create them, or were they there during the beginning of it all? Did our mind and soul even exist in the beginning of it all? And why were we and this world created in the first place?
Questions like these may overwhelm an average person. Make them feel small compared to the world around them. Make them feel lost as to how to go about answering them. Make them feel despair from the idea that answers to these questions will only bring about more disappointment.
But our university does not seek to teach the average person. We look for the few.
The few, for whom questioning is second nature. The few, for whom exploration is done with the same voraciousness as food is eaten by a starving man. The few, who view impossibility with child-like glee. The few, who look at the world and only see what it has to offer to them.
If you happen to be one of the few, you’ve chosen the right university to attend. We will train you, teach you, arm you with all the answers we’ve sought after in our own adventures.
And when you’ve gone out there, into this beautiful, magical world of ours. When you’ve discovered things beyond our imagination. When you’ve explored till your heart’s content. Come back for tea, and teach us all that you have learnt on your travels.
Signed,
Griffith MacGuffin
Dean Of The University Of Science And World History
Former Adventurer
Putting my hand on the stone board, I could tell that the words weren’t engraved. There were no indents or grooves in the stone. It felt more like they were painted on.
As I brushed my hand against the board’s surface, I noticed a whirring sound. A sound that was getting closer with each second.
Looking to the side, a human-like construct was making its way towards me.
It had a white sack for a head with crudely drawn facial features which formed a smile. Its chest was a plain wooden board, covering the wheels and cogs that whirred inside its gut. It had no legs, as it balanced on a single wheel. Six hands came out from its side, each holding a different instrument for cleaning, those being a water bucket, a mop, a sponge, a sweeper, a dustpan, and a claw picker. An empty garbage bag was attached to its neck, flowing like a cape as the construct moved.
It rolled up to the board, dipped the mob in the water bucket, swiped it against the board where I had touched it, and soaked out the water with a sponge.
The construct’s head turned towards me for a second.
It then turned around and rolled away into the corridor from where it came. I followed it.
The construct would sweep every corner of the floor, and dust out any cobwebs forming in the roof. It never touched the walls covered in writing and graffiti. It also never let the water bucket or the mop get close to the walls either.
Eventually, it did a ninety-degree turn, rolling into what appeared to be a lab.
In this lab, there were rows of long tables lined up next to each other. The boards in the lab’s walls had many different sheets pinned all over them. Charts overlapping one another, with different numbers, symbols and elements on them. Drawings of natural resources, under which were details like their location and potential danger levels. Most sheets had symbols of a skull or the words ‘DANGER’ written on them.
One of the boards had a blueprint, which showed the instructions to build the construct that I had just followed to this room. Inside the chest of the crudely drawn robot was a black cube. A red ribbon was attached to the blueprint, which ran all the way around the walls of the room to a sheet of natural resources. The ribbon stopped next to one of the elements, another black cube under which was written ‘Vitamortis, often referred to as Vim’.
It was the only resource in the charts with a circle of skulls around it, with big red letters above it that read ‘TOO DANGEROUS’.
Random assortment of items littered the tables like gears, chemicals, unrefined ore, gems, and vials of glowing liquid. The table with the most amount of litter, however, was the one in front of all the long tables. Gears, wooden planks, springs, bags, wheels, and other components stacked up on top of one another to create a huge pile.
A door, that was initially hidden behind many of the sheets on the walls, opened violently, shaking the large pile of junk on the front table.
A halfling man walked out, whistling a tune to himself. He wore spectacles with multiple lenses that made his blue eyes look ten times bigger than they actually were. A long, grey beard and a white coat dragged along the floor as he walked. His bald head wrinkled as he pushed himself up onto the front desk. His gloved hands held what looked to be a small piece of the black cube or ‘Vitamortis’.
The construct I had followed had parked itself to the side of the desk. The halfling opened a back panel hidden behind the garbage bag of the construct, and started tinkering. The construct buzzed and jerked its body, before slumping over, dropping all its equipment on the ground.
The halfling pulled out a cube that looked to be the same shape as vim, but coloured pure white. He replaced it with the one in his hand, inserting it inside the panel with a loud click. Sparks flew out of the construct, but the halfling didn’t flinch.
A few seconds later, the construct stood up straight, picked up all its equipment, and started cleaning up the mess on the tables, putting the items into the closet from where the halfling had come.
The man looked at the construct, gave a slight nod, threw the white cube onto one of the piles, looked at me, hopped off of his chair, and walked up to me.
He introduced himself and shook my hand. I asked him for an interview on behalf of the ‘Eyes on Islands’ newspaper, to which he agreed.
[ Transcript From Recorded Audio Titled “Interview With Professor Karbon Art” ]
[ Sound of junk and components being carried away as the construct carried them into the closet. Scraping sounds as two metal chairs are being dragged close to one another ]
For the sake of the interview, could I ask you to introduce yourself again? A brief of your background and how you ended up getting this job.
Sure, sure. I’m Karbon. Karbot Art. Professor Of Engineering And Applied Sciences. Been working here for about 20 years now. Spoke with Vice-Dean Maggy, had an interview with good ol’ Griffith, and boom! I was here.
It’s a nice place. Isolated from the worries of the rest of the world. Good for an old man like me.
I see. Could you tell me a little bit about what you teach in the subjects of Engineering And Applied Sciences.
Oh, that’s easy! I’ll use an example for this. Let’s take a look at that microphone you’re holding.
This thing?
It’s not just a thing! It’s a device capable of recording our voices through a series of many simple physical interactions. It can even play them back whenever you’d like with the press of a button. It feels almost magical, does it not?
I suppose when you put it like that-
But how does it work? Have you ever considered that?
Not really-
It’s quite simple actually. See, our voices, or rather any noise that we hear are just vibrations in the air. They are not exactly something physical that can be stored, but rather motion. How do you store motion?
Is that a rhetorical question or-
The easiest way, and the way which your microphone currently does it, is through ‘Echo Crystals’. Crystals that may appear solid, but are actually composed of very thin layers between their spaces. These layers are actually very malleable. So malleable in fact, that they start shaking when met with vibrations in the air. You see where I’m going with this?
I-
When we speak into your microphone, this large hole in the front takes all the noise it receives, and stores it into the malleable layers of the ‘Echo Crystal’ until it can no longer accommodate any more noise. After that, when you put it into a hollow speaker and touch it at the bottom, you can hear all the noise it picked up all over again, for as long as the crystal remains undamaged.
It’s amazing, isn’t it?
Um… Yes, it-
But there’s a problem. The amount and duration of noise an echo crystal can record depends on its size. The one you have in your microphone is about the size of your hand, and it can only record up to an hour’s worth of sound.
Carrying around a bunch of those crystals and having to keep replacing them back and forth can be quite cumbersome, right?
Not really, it’s actually-
Not to mention having to store them in places where they won’t suffer wear and tear. Oh gods, just think of all the precious audio we’ve lost to the elements?
Which is why I thought to myself one day, “If noises are vibrations in the air, which would be considered movement, and movement often leads to energy, would there be a way to convert noises into energy and store it that way?”
Were you able to store audio with that method?
No, unfortunately not.
I had some theories with regards to the use of electricity and magnetism, but the resources needed to test those theories are hard to come by unless you’re willing to sell yourself to the Brunt Corporation. Besides, I became more occupied with other, bigger projects.
I understand.
Indeed, you do! Now you understand how your microphone works! Consider this lesson free of cost!
This is how I teach my students. Letting them understand the complexity of the craft behind their tools and gadgets that they use on a day-to-day basis, and giving them the skills needed to make those tools and gadgets on their own. I even let some of my students help me with my own inventions.
[ Junk spilling on the ground as the construct grabs another pile to put into the closet ]
Does that include robots as well? Like the one cleaning your lab right now?
Well, that is a bit tricker to teach.
See, a construct like Shiny over there is a simple construct.
Is that its name?
Yes, its name is ‘Shiny’. And yes, I know it is a relatively odd name. Building things and naming things are two very different skill sets.
Anyway, Shiny is a pretty simple construct, primarily construct of gears, cogs, and other basic equipment that lets it do a predetermined set of movements. Like a slightly more complex wind-up doll.
It also doesn’t use up many resources. Most of its parts are made of wood and iron. The vitamortis core, or vim as the public calls it, is the only complex part of its machinery. The one that I just replaced from its back panel lasted for five years. It doesn’t take much to keep this bugger running for a long while.
I can teach my students how to build ‘Shiny’. I can even give them the necessary skills to make other simple constructs that can serve different purposes.
The problem comes when you introduce the concept of making constructs that are autonomous.
Like the robots who run Brunt Corporation?
Yes, exactly!
Brunt Corporation is fully run and managed by robots, with goals and aspirations of their own.
Bruntbots, they call themselves.
While their goals and aspirations can be easily summarised as ‘Survive’ and ‘Expand’, the fact that someone out there was able to give them the ability to have self-made goals is a marvel like that is amazing in and of itself.
But the problem is not the autonomous nature itself. No, the problem is the resources needed to keep a construct like that running.
In simple terms, more complexity means more energy. A core that would last five years for Shiny wouldn’t last a year for one of the robots of the Brunt Corp. They are very resource intensive to create and maintain. It’s also a danger to my students’ life should they attempt it.
Because of Brunt Corp’s greed for-
Need for vim!
See, for us, vitamortis is just another mineral. It has its special properties, but at the end of the day, it’s just one of many resources for our civilisation to play around with.
That is not the case for the Bruntbots. Vitamortis to them is like food and water. It’s what sustains them. It’s what lets them create more of their own and expand. Getting more vitamortis is the very foundation of their existence.
It’s also the main ingredient for ‘Carnston Bombs’, right?
Yes, it’s… Wait, I’m sorry what? Carnston bombs?
Carnston bombs.
[ Silence ]
Made by weapons manufacturer Carnston Blast, who allegedly died in his lab after blowing it up along with half the island it was built upon. Known for the invention of some of the deadliest-
Stop, no. I don’t need to hear that.
I’m plenty aware of Carnston Blast, his death in Boreas 48, 967, and his… creations.
And you are correct that vitamortis is one of the main components of a carnston bomb. He wrote about that material’s volatile nature at length in one of his books. I forgot the name…
‘The New God Of Destruction’. He wrote it in 945.
Yes, thank you. My, what an ego the man had. Alas, that was his downfall.
But why bring up his bombs?
There have been rumours as of late that Brunt Corp has been using a modified version of carnston bombs. They have been used by the corporation to subdue any resistance against their mining activities. Were you not aware of this?
[ Silence ]
Professor Art?
Yes?! Yes! No! Yes, yes, yes, yes…
I… Well… Well, Brunt Corp getting their hands on Blast’s weapons is a preposterous thought. Carnston Blast kept all his secrets and blueprints in his lab. A lab that has been burning away in the Dark Depths for the past couple decades. There’s no way they could have gotten access to that kind of information.
Well, hints of vitamortis residue being found in the aftermath of Brunt Corp bombings has given the rumours some validity.
I’m sorry? They found vitamortis residue?
Yes.
Well… Well that doesn’t prove anything! Vitamortis is highly volatile. Any idiot could make an explosive out of it if they wanted to!
There are also-
It proves nothing!
Their recent bombs have also matched the descriptions given by Mr. Blast of his first ever detonation of ‘Carnston Bombs’.
I’m sorry, what!?
Perfectly spherical explosions, with spikes pointing out that completely obliterated anything it touched within a half kilometre radius. Steel, Diamonds, Bedrock, Flesh. It turned everything to dust.
What…
There are also pictures-
I am aware of how they look! I pub- I read the test reports of Carnston Bombs, they’re in our library. I’ve seen what they look like. I also know about the sort of violence Brunt Corp perpetrates on any resistance against their mining operations. I’ve read your newspaper.
It’s not my paper. I’m just a reporter for them-
But you must listen to me! While I did not have much respect for the man and his callous attitude towards invention, he was a great engineer and a good man. He would never have allowed his research to get into the hands of any kingdom or institution, much less Brunt Corp. He would never have endorsed such violence.
Someone… Someone in there must have reverse engineered the bomb somehow. I don’t know how, but somehow. I… would never…
Were you two close?
Sorry, who?
You and Carnston Blast? Were you two close?
I… I never met him. No.
But he was a peer, and one of the greatest inventors of our century. His inventions were never made with the intention to kill and hurt. They were… They were made for the sake of discovery, of greater understanding. They were made for the pure pursuit of knowledge.
Cranston Blast was naive, but he was an honest man. This, I can promise you.
I see.
[ Silence, occasionally interrupted by scribbles on a notepad ]
Do you have any other questions for me?
No, I think I’ve got everything.
Then kindly leave me alone. I must get back to… Work.
Sure. Thank you for the interview.
[ End Of Transcript]
The lab was a lot cleaner when I walked out of it.
The corridor was quiet, its silence occasionally broken by a sparrow flying in, sitting on the window sill, then flying back out as I walked by.
A lot of the conversations written near the walls of the lab mostly involved numbers, calculations, rough sketches and elemental interactions. These conversations were replaced with conversations of dates and historical events as I reached the middle staircase.
Walking past the staircase, however, led to conversations that took on a much more abstract tone.
Talks on levitation, conjuring, elemental manipulation, and divine favour. Graffiti of gods in the clouds pitted against one another. Abstract images of brains and other parts of the body. Even some suggestive imagery here and there.
One of the most notable pieces of graffiti was of the seasonal cycle, which was also given space by other art and writing. The four seasons, Boreas, Freyja, Agni, and Raijin, each lasting 90 days, were depicted in large letters and bright colours. Each season also had two symbols of elements depicted around them.
Boreas had the symbols of ice and skulls.
Freyja had the symbols of venom and toxins.
Agni had the symbols of fire and radiance.
Raijin had the symbols of thunderbolts and sparks of lightning.
A few steps away from this graffiti was a door that was left ajar. A cold breeze came out of the room, even though the island’s climate was temperate.
Inside that room, the walls were covered with shelves, containing items like scrolls, books, jars filled with pulsing liquids, eyeballs, crystals, pouches of dust, and effigies of different gods.
Tables and chairs were strewn about the floor in a mess. Only one table-chair pair was sitting up straight, on which an elvish woman hunched over a glass orb. She had pointed ears, with long hair that was of shades red, orange, and yellow, making it look like her head was on fire.
Her red eyes were glazed over, her mouth muttering something too quiet to hear. Her hands lay on her lap, her feet tapping in a slow, rhythmic beat.
After a few seconds, she jumped out of her chair with a yelp, looked at me, and rushed around the room in a panic, trying to set the tables and chairs in order.
She tripped over on a chair after setting up the second table.
I helped her up, during which she introduced herself and apologised for the state of the room. I asked her for an interview on behalf of the ‘Eyes on Islands’ newspaper, to which she agreed.
[ Transcript From Recorded Audio Titled “Interview With Professor Ash Burns” ]
[ Sound of tables being dragged against a wooden floor in a rush. Clinks of jars and idols in the shelves due to the commotion ]
For the sake of the interview, could I ask you to introduce yourself again? A brief of your background and how you ended up getting this job.
Yes! Right, um… I’m Professor Ash Burns. Professor of all things wizardry, sorcery, necromancy, and any other ‘-y’ that you can think of-
Wait, no, not every other ‘-y’ cause that would include pottery and I’m not particularly proficient in pottery.
Oh, before joining this university, I was a scholar at ‘The Mages’ Magical Magistracy’, or MMM for short. I also did some adventuring from time to time. I also used to babysit my little brothers for almost a decade, but never got paid for it. But that was when I was a little girl, which was probably around… 130 years ago. Gosh, time flies, doesn’t it?
Anyway, I joined this university around… 5 years ago, I think? It was through a recommendation from Griffith actually! Or well, I guess I should be calling him Dean MacGuffin here. We used to be adventuring buddies before! In fact, I was there when he lost his arm to a Wyrmwind spirit. Sliced it off clean with one sharp gust of wind. It looked painful…
Sorry, what were we talking about?
Your job of teaching magic at this university?
Yeah! I teach magic. Well, I don’t teach, teach magic, you know?
I… Do not know. I’m sorry, magic is unfamiliar to me.
It is to most people, don’t worry.
While I do teach magic, I don’t teach my students the ability to use magic. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. In fact, no one can.
Is that so?
I know what you’re thinking.
There are plenty of training centres out there which claim that they can teach magic from scratch. Many students come out of those training centres with the ability to shoot firebolts or conjure small illusions. But I assure you, those students aren’t true wizards or sorcerers by any stretch of the imagination.
True manipulation of magical energy is a lot more complicated than that.
Could you elaborate a bit more?
Yes! Certainly! It’s part of my job, you know?
Okay, so…
Magical energy is something that surrounds us all the time, similar to other worldly energies like heat, light, and the air around us right now.
In order to manipulate it, a person can use tools that are infused with the ability to manipulate that energy. Any person can use those tools, but the tool itself can only create a limited number of effects out of the magic it manipulates.
A good example would be Firebrand Greataxes wielded by the warrior tribes of Agni in the South-West Archipelago. Any soldier can wield those axes and let their flames erupt, but the Greataxe cannot be used to manipulate other sources of fire, put out flames or create the effects of any other element.
Only someone that is truly gifted at birth can affect magical energy, and that is a very, very rare gift.
And how does one become gifted?
Brain abnormalities.
Brain abnormalities?
Brain abnormalities.
The story behind how we figured that out is actually very interesting.
Back in Freyja 22, 722, A duel took place between two great wizards at the Mages’ Magical Magistracy. Wyzwik The Wise and another whose name still eludes our history. People called him ‘The Magnifier’.
Wyzwik was a genius wizard, on his way to become the 5th Supreme Minister of the Magistracy.
That was… until ‘The Magnifier’ caused Wyzwik’s brain to enlarge to five times its original size, breaking his skull and killing him instantly. A painless death, if you think about it.
I… See…
While many grieved his death, most people at the Magistracy were a curious sort and couldn’t help but study his brain after the duel.
The one to conduct the study was Wyzwik’s daughter, Wendy Wise, who eventually became the 5th Supreme Minister.
In her study, she found that the brain’s right hemisphere had almost three times the number of wrinkles compared to his left hemisphere. Upon digging deeper, she found out that the cause of the increase in size was due to the ‘Amygdala’ in the brain being formed differently.
The ‘Amygdala’?
It’s the part of your brain that processes emotions and stuff. A little almond shaped fleshy bead that’s right behind the front half of your brain.
But it’s not almond shaped for someone born with the gift to manipulate magic. Tendrils come out of their amygdala and form around the right hemisphere. There are theories that the shape of those tendrils and where they connect can correlate with the type of magic the person wields, but there haven’t been enough studies to prove that.
So you’re saying that being able to wield magic is something determined at birth?
Yes! That’s exactly what I’m saying, thank you.
Being born with magic is a relatively random thing. Most children born to wizards and sorcerers do possess the ability to manipulate magical energy as well, but there are exceptions.
Similarly, a child born to non-magical parents can be equally as gifted, though that is significantly rarer.
But how does this explain people being able to learn magic?
That’s unfortunately the sad part. They never really learn magic. It’s more like they mimic the magic.
See, those that have honed their gift of magic and learnt to control it, can not only infuse magical objects with magic, but also people. They can infuse people with the ability to cast certain spells that they themselves have had great practice doing.
But, like an infused weapon, a person that’s been infused with magic will never truly learn how to manipulate the energy itself. They will be stuck casting one or two spells at best.
Would you say these wizards and sorcerers are scamming others by telling them they’ll learn magic, when in reality they’re just teaching them a single spell?
Yes! It’s a huge scam, and it gets even worse.
See, the thing about magical energy is that using it is not as simple as using a hammer or a sword. Magical energy can have an influence over the mind. Using it can give the wielder a rush. A high that’s very potent, and which can be very addictive. It is something even trained wizards and sorcerers struggle to manage.
Now, imagine an untrained mind trying to fight against this addiction. They’ll probably fail, and use their infused magical abilities as much as possible. But most people don’t stop there. They find others who can infuse them with more magic. And more magic. And more magic…
Eventually, they stop being a person… It would be more appropriate to call them a force of nature. A natural disaster, waiting to happen.
I’ve sent countless letters to the Mages’ Magical Magistracy regarding this issue over the years, and have received no reply. They’re choosing to ignore this issue, and it’s causing life-long damage to thousands of people. It’s awful.
That’s surprising, that they would ignore your letters, considering you’re related to the 9th Supreme Magistrate.
That’s right! I have no idea what grandpa is thinking. This problem could easily be solved the moment he decides he wants to solve it.
But no, he wants to work on dumb things like creating his own islands. Ugh, we haven’t even fully explored all the islands we have and he wants to create more? I mean, how dumb is….
I don’t remember mentioning grandpa. Did I mention grandpa to you?
Supreme Judge Phoenix Burns? No, you did not. I made an assumption, based on your knowledge about the MMM, your hair, and your last name. ‘Burns’ isn’t a very common surname, professor.
Heh, you’re good. Though, I guess it’s not really a secret.
Yes. I am the granddaughter of Phoenix Burns. The man who lives atop the Wyvern Scale Tower. The 9th Supreme Judge of The Mages’ Magical Magistracy. The legend who once prevented an island from sinking into the Dark Depths.
Blah, blah, blah. You know the man; you get the idea.
Is this why you chose to leave the MMM? Because they chose to not act against these magical training centres that are ruining lives?
Well, no… I was actually kicked out.
For what, may I ask?
Well… I can’t manipulate magic.
You can’t?
Nope. Haven’t been able to for a while now.
[ Sound of exertion as Professor Ash Burns stretches her arm out ]
Hnghhh! Ugh, nothing. See? Tried really hard to cast Fireball there.
For a while? Wait, so you used to be able to manipulate magic?
Yes…
Not to brag… Okay, no this is definitely a brag but I was very good at wielding magic. Was quite the sorcerer back at MMM. Won many duels, led a lot of research. In fact, some of my teachers were telling me that I was poised to become the next Supreme Magistrate.
And then, one day I woke up. And I couldn’t wield magic anymore.
Just like that?
Just like that.
Nothing felt different. My body was the same. I went to several wizards who specialised in studying magic and biology, and they all said the same thing.
My body was fine, my brain was fine. Nothing was wrong.
But you couldn’t cast any more spells since then.
Spells? Hell, I couldn’t even sense magical energy. I felt like I was blind. Like I was stumbling through an endless and dark tunnel.
I struggled a lot with it initially. Scoured every book and scroll in their libraries for something, anything to help me fix my condition.
Eventually, they kicked me out, saying that I’d be an embarrassment to the Supreme Magistrate if I stayed any longer.
Phoenix Burns kicked you out?
No. It was my mom.
I’ve never spoken with grandpa once. Like, ever. He’s always busy with something.
I’m… I’m sorry.
Don’t be. It sort of worked out for me.
While I was desperate to fix my condition, I learnt a lot about magic. How people viewed it in the past, how it developed over the years, how many have weaponized it. For years I thought the MMM was the only great authority on magic, but throughout my travels I also had the privilege to meet individuals who mastered their control over magic to the same level of a Supreme Magistrate.
I also got the chance to look into the Divine and Infernal energies, something actively forbidden by the MMM. It’s interesting. Priests and demons use something similar to magical energy for their powers, but it's not external. They’re not manipulating the magical energy around them. They channel their power from within themselves. Faith, fear, love, hatred. They give it different names, but the effect is the same.
I’d love to study the brain and body of a strong Paladin one day, but it is quite rare to see one die, let alone be able to take their body for research. Maybe if I proposed it to Thea…
Are you still trying to find ways to cure your condition?
Hah! It’s funny, actually.
I’ve spent so long without being able to wield magic, I can barely remember what it was like to wield it. I don’t miss it anymore.
I learnt a lot in my travels, and while initially my goal was to fix my condition, I eventually grew to love the act of learning itself. I mean, the world is so much bigger than what the people at MMM make you believe.
And now I get to pass on my learnings to my students. Most of my students don’t actually have the gift to manipulate magic. They’re just curious about it, like me. And for the few that do possess the gift, I give them training better than any other institute out there, even MMM. I learnt all their tricks and more.
So no, I’m not trying to fix myself. There’s nothing to fix, really. I’ve found happiness in the work that I do right now, and that’s more than enough for me.
I understand.
Do you have any other questions for me?
Uh.. Yes, actually. What does that orb do?
Oh, this one?
[ Sound of a glass orb being patted ]
This right here is my scrying orb, my pride and joy. I use it to keep tabs on everyone on the island.
Does that include me?
I- Well, sh*t.
[ Sound of the orb being bumped, slipping onto the floor and rolling away ]
Oh sh*t!
Listen, I like to keep an eye on visitors, okay? Can you blame me?
Wouldn’t you consider this a breach of privacy?
[ Sound of Professor Ash Burns slipping over another chair and falling over as she chases after the orb ]
Ow! First of all, you’re a reporter. You have no right to speak to me about privacy.
Second of all, I’m not a creep who gets off on watching strangers go about their day. I only do it for the safety of the university!
Also, now is not the best time to discuss this! Help me!
If you say so.
[ End Of Transcript ]
After helping Professor Ash Burns, she told me that the other professors and the dean weren’t in the main academic building, and that I should check the professor’s lodgings in the back or the fields to the west.
As I walked outside the academic building and went around to find the professor’s housing area, the student hostels could be seen on the right. While the Academic building looked clean from the outside, the student hostels made no effort to hide their eccentric nature, with the same graffiti and art plastered all over their exterior.
The way to the hostels was paved in what looked to be stone steps over dirt. The bushes that ran along the pathway to the academic building created a gap where one could access this path and walk over to the hostels, which weren’t surrounded by any fences or walls. Empty clotheslines and straw chairs lay around the building, with no one to use them.
No one, except a dwarven lady with a straw hat, a white t-shirt and black pants, who sat on one of the straw chairs. To her side was a bag which smelled of rotting meat. Flies had already started gathering around it, but she didn’t swat at them.
The focus of her hazel eyes was entirely on the bush sculptures and shrubbery in front of the academic building. She didn’t react even when I walked right next to her.
I noticed that she was chewing on something. Her hands were cupping a few rolls of chewing Pinkweed. She offered one to me without sparing a glance, which I declined. She then spit out the one in her mouth, pink and red liquid flying into the dirt, after which she started chewing on a fresh one.
I asked her for an interview on behalf of the ‘Eyes on Islands’ newspaper, to which she replied with a slight nod and a low grunt.
[ Transcript From Recorded Audio Titled “Interview With Professor Daisy Dawkins” ]
[ Sound of wind brushing against the leaves of the trees ]
Could you introduce yourself?
…
A brief of your background and-
Shh!
Sorry.
[ A long pause. Eventually broken by the sound of spitting coming from one of the bush sculptures shaped like a bull. A wolf skull pops out and lands on the ground with a dull thud ]
Hah! Hahahaha! Did’ja see that? Did’ja? Haha! I love seeing natural selection at work!
I… Um…
Ah, I’d love to see them rip apart my Snapstems again!
Snapstems?
Yeah, Snapstems.
[ Sound of the dwarf woman getting up, picking up her bag and walking towards the bushes and shrubbery. A trail of mosquitoes buzzing behind her. ]
You never heard of a Snapstem?
Can’t say I have, ma’am.
They’re pretty cool.
I found ‘em in the North-West Archipelago, on an unexplored tundra island. In fact, I was part of an expedition by the Grace Empire.
You worked for the Grace Empire?
Nah. I signed up as a… As a consultant? I’m an expert on most matters relating to fauna and flora, so I guess they just wanted me there to warn ‘em of anything dangerous.
But they never listened. Not until the leader of the expedition got his neck bitten off by one of these things after tripping on the ground.
[ Sound of a loud snap as the dwarf woman throws some rotting meat into the shrubbery ]
We got lost for ‘bout a month after that, but as it turns out, these Snapstems make very efficient traps for hunting, so we never really ran out of supplies. They’re good for pest control too, as you can see.
[ Sound of the wolf skull being kicked around ]
You brought those Snapstems back and put them into the gardens here?
Yeah? I’ve got a bunch’a their seeds in my lab.
Isn’t that a danger to the students and staff here?
Nah. Not really. If you keep them fed to a degree, they’ll only go after prey of small sizes. Only the real hungry ones will try to eat someone like you and I.
I will say though, sometimes I feel like I’ve been hired as a glorified gardener here.
Who are you? Could you introduce yourself? For the sake of the interview.
Interview? Ah, right! You’re the one who sent the letter, huh.
Right. The name’s Daisy Dawkins. My official title here is Professor Of Botany And Zoology, but the rate at which I get students these days is making me believe my career is better off if I switched to being a gardener for a fancy kingdom.
Is it not a popular subject?
It’s popular, just not the way I like to teach it.
See, what most people are interested in are big monsters, animals, plants, demons, and other fun stuff. They’re interested in where they’re found, how to kill them, and how much their bodies are worth.
No one wants to hear a dwarf talk about the strong ecosystems of the Southern Volcanic Islands and the balance they achieve through the use of volcanic energy, or how the current developments in Flying Ship travels is causing the Galapagos Turtle population to dwindle.
I mean, you’re from Eye-O-I, right? Central Archipelago?
Yes.
You ever seen a sky full of stars in your time there?
… No, I don’t believe I have.
Exactly.
Cause it’s all covered by smog. Smog that the Galapagos Turtles have to inhale and fly through every single day. Unless they breed a variant that can live off of smog, I don’t see much hope in their future use for island travel.
I see. You focus your efforts on nature conservation?
Sort of.
Nature is a dynamic being. There’s no conserving it. Species will die, and new species will be born that will better adapt to the world. That is how nature goes.
Nature is also a terrifying beast. For every deforestation effort, there is a Girdle Worm that jumps out of the Dark Depths and eats up an entire flying cruise. Nature fights back, so I don’t worry too much about it.
But I do worry about the people who rely on nature. People as of late have been forgetting that their actions have consequences on not just natural order, but also on other people who have based their living around that natural order.
Think ‘bout it. Once the skies are filled with too much smog, and Galapagos Turtles are no longer able to travel between islands, the turtle population will, of course, suffer. But they’re not the only ones. Small businesses that rely on cheap transportation will suffer. People whose entire job revolves around raising and rearing those turtles will suffer.
And, of course, once the Galapagos Turtle population dwindles, so does the main source of food for Wyrms. Where do you think them Wyrms will look for food? They’ll look at our flying ships like how a cat looks at a can of fish.
It might spark an event similar to the Dragon Extinction Event.
Exactly! And you know how that went.
Sure, the Central Archipelago is now fully covered in towns and cities, but the dragon population almost died out for it. Such an intelligent and complex species, gone due to greed and stupidity. Now, most dragon species we encounter are either hostile or scared. Often both.
Not to mention the many heroes and legends who died for such a stupid cause as the ‘Liberation Of The Heart Of The World’.
Dumber than a Mudhog during mating season if you ask me.
They say the only reason some dragons even survived that event was because of John Adventure.
Was the only one who opposed it. Always believed there could be a more peaceful answer. He’s the only man from that era that I have any respect for. Him and Maggy, of course.
Shame that he went ahead and killed himself.
Well, technically he didn’t kill himself. He went exploring into the Far Beyond.
You don’t go exploring into the Far Beyond. Because exploration implies you can come back. No one comes back from the Far Beyond.
Not a single person, not their body, not even their ship, supplies, or mount have once in history made it back from the Far Beyond. Even teleportation and telepathy fail to work once someone enters that place.
He may as well have shot himself in the head with a flintlock pistol. Wait, did they have flintlock pistols back then? I’ll have to ask Karbon. Ugh, actually no, I don’t want to talk to Karbon.
Did you join this university because of John Adventure?
Well… I can’t say the fact that he founded this place didn’t influence me a bit.
But the main reason is because this place lets me study nature in peace. The research grants let me focus on work rather than financial concerns, and the library here has almost every single bestiary ever written. While I don’t get many students, everything else about this place is perfect for me.
How did you get this job, may I ask?
Through the Vice Dean, actually. We met during one of the U.I.C. conferences. She invited me to work for them after I gave a lecture on the threat of demons from the Dark Depths which have started flying up to islands in the South and started inhabiting them.
She’s nice. Acts wise and all, but becomes a blushing mess after a couple drinks. Cute.
Right. Well, thank you for the interview. It’s been insightfu-
Hey, if you really wanna thank me, you could help out.
[ Sound of rotten meat sloshing about in the bag as Dawkins holds it out ]
Well…
Don’t worry! Snapstems won’t bite, so long as you don’t do anything stupid like offering your fingers along with the meat.
Okay…
[ End Of Transcript ]
After feeding the Snapstems, Professor Dawkins escorted me to the professor’s lodging. I suffered no injuries, thanks to her guidance, but it took around twenty minutes of cleaning before the smell of rotting flesh left my hands.
Walking out of her room’s bathroom, I noticed she had several potted plants around the house, many of which looked exotic at the very least.
Vines with purple fruits, stems with spikes that were bloated up like a balloon, a rose that looked like it was on fire. There were too many to describe.
A pot containing a Snapstem was kept next to the exit. It was out in the open this time so I could get a better look. It had a green leaves, green stem, exposed brown roots, and a bulb on the top that had a wide mouth with rows and rows of teeth-like protrusions. The bulb was quite small, though, and kept its distance from me when I walked by it.
Roaming through the hallways of the professor’s lounge, I noticed that even the walls there also had a lot of graffiti and writing. Most of the conversations seemed to be between the teachers, with talks of schedules, deadlines, current affairs and other matters. Only one wooden door, near the exit of the lodgings had almost no writing next to it. In fact, the door and the walls around it were so clean, they were almost sparkling.
As I tried to walk out, the door opened and a purple hand reached out, grabbing my shoulder.
I was dragged into the room before I could react. I turned on my microphone in-case something happened to me.
A tall tiefling woman held me by the shoulders, her long horns curving towards my forehead, her orange, blazing eyes giving me an inquisitive look.
[ Transcript From Recorded Audio Titled “Interview With Professor Thea Wright” ]
[ The dull click of the door closing in the background ]
It’s you, isn’t it? The guy who’s been interviewing everyone?
Sorry, what?
The reporter from ‘Eyes On Islands’? Daisy mentioned you as she was walking out.
That… That is me, yes. And who-
Why wasn’t I given a letter!?
Why weren’t… What?
Everyone here got the letter for the interview. Everyone… Except me!
Even that damned Roark Godshand got one.
I mean, Roark? Of all people? He’s a musclehead! All he cares about is fighting and survival techniques. He’s no better than an animal!
Why does he get one of your letters but not me?
I… I’m not sure. Multiple letters were sent to the Dean to give out to any of his staff regarding the arrival of a reporter here, so you’ll have to speak with him.
Ugh, what good you are. I’ll be sure to have some strong words with the Dean and whoever your boss is.
[ Sound of the tiefling woman letting go as she walks further back into the room to sit on a chair in front of a desk. Scribbling sounds as she writes furiously on a note ]
I see… Would you happen to be one of the staff at this university?
Staff? I’m not just any old staff! I’m Thea Wright! Professor Of Theology, Moral Doctrines And Philosophy! I used to be a pretty big deal back when I worked at the U.I.C.
I knew I should’ve kept my old job. I get no respect around here.
Could I get your interview on behalf of the ‘Eyes On Islands’ newspaper?
Well I- Excuse me?
Could I get your-
No, no, no, I caught that part. I thought you didn’t want my interview.
I do. I’m not sure why Dean MacGuffin decided to not give you the letter, but my plan coming here was to interview every single staff member of the University today.
And that includes me?
Yes, so long as you’re fine with-
Yes! Of course! It’s… It’s just that this has caught me a little off-guard. I don’t have time to prepare! I mean, I did sort of prepare. I made a list of potential questions you would ask me on the off-chance that the letter you sent me got lost. Would you like to see it?
Perhaps… Some other time? You said you teach Theology?
Theology, yes.
Study of all matters relating to faith and the gods people worship in different societies.
So, you study all Gods?
Well, that’s an oversimplification.
For one, you can’t exactly study a deity. Most encounters with deities happen during visions or dreams, and their accounts tend to be… Unreliable at best.
No, I study the doctrines of different religions and faiths in order to better understand the goals and motivations of different groups and nations across our world.
I can explain this better using an example.
[ Sound of fingers snapping ]
Quick, give me a scenario.
A what?
A scenario.
A scenario?
Yes, a scenario.
Any scenario?
Yes! Any scenario!
Just spit it out, already!
Hm…
Gods, you’re slow.
Getting your fingers bitten off by a Snapstem?
Finally! I can work with that.
Now, imagine I got my fingers bitten off by a Snapstem. I’m bleeding all over the floor. You know the deal.
What would followers of ‘Manus’ do in this situation if they saw me?
Manus? The God Of Cha-
Charity, yes! The God Of Charity, Manus. What would his followers do?
They would help you?
Correct, yes they would!
Now, what would followers of ‘Gaveldon’ do?
God of Justice? They would… Still help you?
Perhaps, perhaps not. That’ll depend on their assessment of whether I am deserving of help or not.
What about the followers of ‘Pathos’, what would they do?
The murder cult in the South-West Archipelago?
They are not a murder cult! Ugh, people always get it wrong.
‘Pathos’ is not the God of Murder. In fact, there is no God of Murder. Closest you’d get is the Goddess Of Death ‘Nirvana’.
‘Pathos’ is the God of Suffering. Followers of ‘Pathos’ don’t murder people. They believe in enlightenment through suffering, and make both followers and those without faith go through their ‘Trials of Pain’ in order to bring about that enlightenment.
Some people die in those trials, yes, but they don’t actively go out and murder people.
Okay… correction. The ‘torture’ cult in the South-West Archipelago.
An oversimplification still, but better.
What do you think they would do if they saw me getting my fingers bitten off by a Snapstem?
… I’m not sure.
Ugh, okay look. They wouldn’t help me in the moment of misery, but afterwards they may approach and see if I’m fit to join their… Clergy.
Are you sure they won’t just torture you more or possibly kill you?
Oh please, they’re a lot more nuanced than that.
22 people have died in their ‘trials’ in the past week alone.
And you’re telling me others are better?
You know how many people get sold off to slavery in places like the Republic of Tusk, where they worship ‘Bargo’?
You know of the savagery of the followers of ‘Phylus’? They seem like hippie tree-huggers but the moment you disturb their ‘precious nature’, they will gut you like a fish and feed you to the wolves.
This is all not to mention whatever God of Conquest the Grace Empire worships and their desire to take over the entire world.
The Grace Empire does not have any God that their society worships, as far as reports and accounts from their diplomats are concerned.
Hah. Haha. Funny.
You can’t unite three archipelago’s worth of people under one banner without the symbol of a God. And it sure isn’t that Bandaged Emperor of theirs. The guy’s not only mortal, but on death’s door.
No, there has to be a God that they worship. They just don't do it publicly… Hm… Maybe…
[ Silence ]
Professor Wright?
Wuh? What? What, what is it?
You were saying that the Grace Empire may in fact be united under the banner of a God.
Yes, and I was about to tell you that God if you didn't interrupt my train of thought! God, are all reporters as incompetent as you?
I-
Look, my overall point is that there are many nations out there that have monotheistic and syncretic religions. There are those that are multireligious. There are even those that are entirely secular.
They all have different ways of approaching problems. Sometimes they want different goals entirely. That's why understanding their Gods, their faith, their culture, it’s important to be able to talk to them in the first place, let alone negotiate deals and treaties.
Was this part of your job before you joined this University?
Duh, of course.
I handled the data collection at U.I.C, learning everything I could about the different faiths of the world. Some as young as you and I, but many as old as the world itself.
It was my job to keep everyone up to date on any religious affairs and developments of the different islands that are part of the confederation.
It’s a very important job, I’ll have you know. There are great correlations between the worship of a god, and the influence that their domain has over the rest of the world.
I miss that job…
May I ask why you quit?
Ugh, it was that damn Dean MacGuffin, who filled my head with dumb ideas.
He proposed that if I joined this University, I’d get the respects of scholars and the rest of the world for my research and data. That I could perform my research without the hassle of dealing with the diplomatic aspects at U.I.C, and that I could take full credit for my findings.
God, that man is a silvertongued snake! Well, technically he would hunt snakes, I guess. Very big snakes.
Have the promises of the Dean not been met?
No! Not at all!
So far all I've gotten is lodgings, pocket change for travel and research, as well as access to their vaulted library.
Okay, I’ll admit that their library is pretty cool. I don't think I've ever seen a place with that much literature in all my life.
For how many years have you been working here?
Uhh… Around 4…
4 years?
Mm…. Months…
Months… 4 months…
Hey! It's a pretty long amount of time! In the time that I’ve been gone, U.I.C managed to start diplomatic conversations with some of the southern archipelago tribes. That's a big deal!
And have you been able to teach any students or perform any research of your own during these 4 months?
I… I’m restricted! I had to spend all my time so far developing the course I would teach the new batch of students coming this year!
Look, I’m still new to this whole academia thing, okay? Give me a break, man.
If you say so. Anyway, thank you for the interview.
Oh, right. That was an interview.
Yes, it was.
Could you… Refrain from reporting on some of those last bits of the interview.
The last bits?
Yeah… You know… The last bits where I talk about the Dean?
Where you call him a silvertongued sn-
Yeah! Yup! That part! Cut that part! Thank you!
[ Sound of heels dragging as Professor Wright drags me to the door ]
[ End Of Transcript ]
As I walked out of the teacher’s lodgings, I looked at the back of the main academic building. Again, the walls looked simple, brick for the first floor, refined wood for the second. The tinted windows reflected the sun’s light, creating tiny rainbows in the grass.
I heard sounds of daggers flying in the distance. As I walked towards it, the field next to the main academic building became more visible.
It was still a largely empty field, as could be seen from the front entrance. There were a few notable differences though.
The area near the edge, behind the shed, was being used as a small training area for combat. Training dummies, wooden targets, and racks containing weapons were spread out.
A lone orcish man was throwing daggers at one of the wooden boards. He was throwing them from around 40 metres away. The daggers flew through the air in a straight line and hit the target dead in the centre, digging themselves halfway into the wood.
As I approached him, he suddenly threw one of the daggers in my direction. It whizzed past my ear, before digging itself deep into the dirt.
The man approached me, wiping away sweat from his dark green skin. He had small tusks protruding from his lower jaw, and black eyes that gave a look of seriousness.
Numerous scars formed around the top of his head, with some reaching all the way down to his eyebrows. He eventually put on a cap, hiding them as he came near.
He apologized, explaining that he was too focused, and asked who I was. I told him I was a reporter from the ‘Eyes On Islands’ newspaper. He told me he was informed of my arrival through a letter, so I requested for an interview, to which he agreed.
[ Transcript From Recorded Audio Titled “Interview With Trainer Roark Godshand” ]
[ Sound of a dagger flying through the air before hitting a wooden target ]
You don't mind if I keep training, right? It’s… It’s hard for me to stay still sometimes.
That's alright.
Oh, and I’m sorry again. For earlier.
No worries, anyway-
Can I ask you something, reporter?
Uh… Sure.
Have you fought in a war before?
I… No, I have not.
Huh…
Why do you ask?
Well, you didn’t flinch. In fact, you didn’t react at all when I threw that knife at you.
At first, I thought you just froze up. Most people do.
Butt your face and body looked calm. Like you would’ve reacted if I threw another one or charged you.
Your eyes were alive. Those weren't the eyes of someone that's never seen war.
I see… Have you fought in a war before?
Sort of. I trained and led a lot of soldiers, yeah.
Soldiers? What army did you serve?
The Grace Empire, over up north.
[ Sound of a knife hitting another wooden target ]
Ah. That makes sense.
What makes sense?
Ah, forgive me. Your knife throws reminded me of a certain someone.
Huh. Hm.
Anyway, for the sake of the interview, could you introduce yourself? A brief of your background and how you ended up getting this job?
Oh, simple. I’m Roark Godshand. I train the students here to defend themselves and survive in the wilderness. I was hired by Mr. MacGuffin a couple years back. Before that… Like I said, I was a training sergeant in the Grace Empire.
I see…
Yeah. That's it.
That’s it?
Yup. That's me.
Okay. You don't have anything else to share?
Nah, not really. My job is pretty simple, so there's not much to say. I like it that way.
Ah, alright. I must say, it’s a surprise to see you her ‘Godshammer’.
A surprise? Also wait, what did you call me?
Ah, my mistake. Your last name is Godshand, right?
Yeah… But did you call me-
Thank you for the brief interview. Could you help me out? I’d like to speak to Dean MacGuffin but I’m a little lost.
Oh. Uh… Hm…
Mr. MacGuffin? Right, yeah. He’s probably still in the library with Ari.
Come, follow me, I’ll show you.
Thank you.
[ End Of Transcript ]
Godshand walked towards the centre of the field, and I followed behind him.
As he got closer to the centre, the air around him shimmered with a strange light. He stretched his hand out, as if ready to pull apart the air around him, and with a swift pull, he disappeared.
The field was empty. There was no more glow in the air. Silence, outside of the chirping of some crows in the distance.
Eventually, a hand popped out from where Godshand had disappeared. It was his hand, reaching out in my direction. I took it, and he pulled me through what felt like a tunnel of light. It was so bright that my eyes burnt and I had to shut them.
After opening them, I saw that I had appeared in a small room with rough wooden walls, an open door, and a small trapdoor below me that was open.
Godshand gestured for me to go down before walking out of the door and towards the training grounds. He continued his dagger throwing, but threw one so hard he split one of the wooden targets in two.
I opened the trapdoor and took the ladder down below. As I climbed down, I saw the library that Professor Wright was talking about.
Rows and rows of bookshelves packed with books, scrolls, papers, and other odd items lined across them. The shelves’ lengths knew no end, seemingly going as far as the island itself. One could’ve easily lost themselves in such a labyrinth of a library.
The bottom of the staircase led to a reading room, with chairs and tables that had small piles of books and a tea set on top of them. A little girl sat on of the chairs, her eyes glued to the book in front of her.
As I approached her, she looked up, let out a tiny yelp, and hid under the table.
The screech of a loud beast filled the halls of the library. Gale winds came flying between the bookshelves, with enough force to move the tables and chairs back. The literature in the shelves remained unmoving.
The beast made his presence known by landing on top of one of the shelves. He was a Griffin, a creature rarely spotted in the far reaches of the West Archipelago. A lion’s body, but his neck supported the head of an eagle. His wings were almost double the body’s size, and his sharp talons dug deep into the wood he landed on.
This Griffin was different than most. He was missing his left front leg, and somehow balanced spectacles over his yellow break.
The little girl ran from underneath the table towards the Griffin, hiding behind one of his legs. A wing shielded her from me as the beast stared me down.
As I attempted to walk away, the beast spoke, asking me who I was. I introduced myself, to which the Griffin reacted with surprise. He apologized, trying to shake my hand with his sharp talon claws.
I asked him who he was, to which he replied that he was the dean.
After clearing up the confusion and a brief exchange of pleasantries, I asked him for an interview on behalf of the ‘Eyes on Islands’ newspaper, to which he agreed.
[ Transcript From Recorded Audio Titled “Interview With Dean Griffith MacGuffin, Part One” ]
[ Sound of tables and chairs being arranged properly. Little footsteps fading away as the little girl runs off towards the bookshelves ]
Will she be fine?
Oh, little Ari? She knows this place better than I do. I’m sure she’ll be fine.
You gave her quite the scare though.
I’m sorry about that.
Oh no, please. It was my mistake. I was supposed to meet you in front of the gate, but got carried away showing her some of the new books we just added to this place.
Gerrick Grunkle just released a new batch of ballads of his latest adventures. The read is quite good, though not for the faint of heart.
Grunkle can be quite… Descriptive.
I… See…
Yes, so I got lost in that book for half the day.
Then I heard Ari yell, so of course I assumed that she’d been buried under the books again.
And then I saw you, and not knowing who you were, I assumed the worst.
My apologies.
Please, it's alright. Could we continue with interview?
Right, the interview.
Yes um… For the sake of the interview, could you introduce yourself? A brief of your background and how you ended up getting this job?
Well, it's quite rude to ask me to introduce myself without introducing yourself first, isn’t it?
I’m sorry? I did introduce myself.
Only partly. I only know of your profession, that you are a reporter for the ‘Eyes On Islands’ newspaper. I also see that you’re a human.
But I know nothing beyond that. Not your name, nor background. Not even your interests or passions.
I will not be continuing this interview until you tell me everything about yourself.
I- Well… Uh…
Hahaha! Don't be nervous, I was kidding!
Ha…
Oh, have a sense of humour!
Anyway, as I stated before, my name is Griffith MacGuffin, and I’ve been the Dean of this University since Raijin 46th, 968. There is a whole process to getting this position, but I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to share that publicly.
Before that, I was an artisan who made sculptures out of obsidian and glacier ice. Before that, I was an adventurer, in search of treasure and pleasure. Before that, I was the companion of a kind ranger.
And before, and I mean long before that, I was a young hatchling, learning how to fly over the south-west skies.
How old are you now?
Hm… let's see… 4… 10… 22… 72,214 suns old today, I think.
For your convenience, that's 200 years, two months, and 34 days old.
Sun cycles?
Yes, sun cycles. When you grow up without calenders, it's the next best way to remember dates and important events.
While calenders are significantly more convenient for such things, I'm afraid I’m still stuck in my old-fashioned ways.
Is 200 years… or 72,000 sun cycles pretty old for a Griffin?
Sorry to answer your question with another question, but is it your first time speaking with someone of my kind?
Yes. Are all Griffins capable of being as eloquent as you are?
Hah! I appreciate the flattery, but I must insist that I’m not an exception. While most Griffith’s don't speak the common tongue, they are all as intelligent and eloquent as you and I.
You must find me quite unusual if this is your first conversation with a Griffin. I can understand that.
Not as unusual as the rest of your staff.
Oh?
Former member of the U.I.C; a researcher for the Grace Empire; daughter of the 9th Supreme Judge of the MMM; a prodigious explosives engineer who faked his death decades ago; and a living, breathing dragonborn.
Haha! Very good! I see you’ve spoken with the rest of my colleagues.
Could I request you to redact the statement about Carnston- I mean Professor Karbon Art? He doesn't appreciate such accusations.
Not to mention you’ve also hired ‘Godshammer’.
You mean Godshand? Ah, that is quite a nickname for him.
It is not just a nickname. It was a name given to him by his soldiers, for he bent, broke and crushed any resistance to his war efforts in the North-East Archipelago. He was one of Grace Empire’s most influential generals, and now you have him here teaching kids how to throw knives.
Ah, yes. His past is… Intense, to say the least. But I would say his past experiences make him more than qualified to… ‘Teach kids how to throw knives’. The same applies to all my colleagues. They may be eccentric and have odd histories, but they’re excellent researchers and amazing mentors in their own way.
Besides, Godshand has mellowed out over the years.
He committed several instances of genocide while working under the Grace Empire.
Allegedly.
He threw a dagger at me.
And what did you do, after? Calmly asked him who he was? Listen to him give you half-truths despite you knowing better? Let him lead you here to face down a limping Griffin? A Griffin who you faced down with a better Poker face than the ones I’ve seen in the gambling dens of the Aurum Vaults.
Yet now, you break your emotionless façade to make a fuss over the university’s unique hiring choices?
You are quite the unusual reporter yourself.
I- I’m sorry about the fuss. It’s just that I find this place a lot more unusual than I expected.
And what would be usual for you, reporter?
Usual? I’m sorry?
You seem to know a lot about my staff and where they come from.
I could credit that to good research, but now that I’ve been able to take a good look at you, I have a different theory.
A theory about what?
Just a random theory I’d like your opinion on. Would you like to listen to it?
Um… Sure.
Great! Now listen close.
You’re from the ‘Eyes on Islands’ newspaper. Ari is actually a big fan of that paper. She reads all of their articles to her father.
But there was a time, where ‘Eyes On Islands’ wasn’t exactly appropriate for children. Two decades ago, the paper, alongside most other newspapers in the world, primarily covered the actions of the Grace Empire.
Most articles were news on their diplomatic efforts. Stuff the Empire was fine with being public. The papers never looked deeper into their actions behind closed curtains.
While most newspapers are protected by the U.I.C, their reporters are not immune to attacks and threats, especially when going into hostile territories.
But somehow, there was one reporter, who managed to get into those territories. A reporter who never revealed their full name in the news, only their initials, ‘K.C’.
You must know of this reporter, right?
Yes… Yes, of course.
Then you must know that many diplomats credit this reporter as the reason for why they were able to get proof of the Grace Empire performing inhumane and genocidal activities in their conquest over the northern archipelagos.
It was through those articles that islands were able to unite against the two bodies and stop them from acting without consequence.
Right…
A time was peace was achieved through the reportage of horrible violence.
The events that the reporter covered still send shivers down my spine. Especially that one image of the Empire’s soldiers executing those-
[Sound of metal clanking and turning, and then a loud click, followed by silence ]
[ End Of Transcript ]
My recording got interrupted. During the conversation, Ari managed to get a hold of my recording device and ran off.
Dean MacGuffin and I didn’t realise until a couple minutes after. He flew after her, and after a long game of hide and seek, finally managed to secure it back.
MacGuffin gently chided the kid, but Ari yelled back. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but eventually MacGuffin flew up to one of the shelves that reached the ceiling, grabbed a couple books from up there, and handed them to Ari.
She then climbed up the ladder and exited the library. Her eyes were still red and swollen as she climbed out.
MacGuffin came back and we continued the interview. Not much was lost in between.
[ Transcript From Recorded Audio Titled “Interview With Dean Griffith MacGuffin, Part Two” ]
Oh, little Ari! I didn't know she was capable of such mischief! I must apologize to you again.
It’s alright.
Ah yes, where were we? Right! The K.C. articles.
While many were ecstatic that the affairs of the Grace Empire were becoming public, there were a few who criticised the news.
Not for being false, of course, but for the nature of the news itself.
Many said that only someone heartless and soulless could report on such activities and do nothing to help the victims. Some even hypothesized that the reporter was must’ve enjoyed watching their suffering or aided the soldiers in some way.
[ Silence ]
What do you think K.C. felt when he wrote those articles and took those pictures?
I- What?
I’m just curious about your opinion. After that, I’ll share my thoughts.
Well… I can’t comment on another man’s thoughts. I just know that he had a job to do and he did it. That is all.
Hm… Interesting.
Do you want to know what I think about… him?
Sure…
I think he’s someone who’s just like the rest of us here at this University.
Someone who seeks knowledge beyond all else. While others saw coldness and ruthlessness in his writing, I saw passion. A desire, a need to put the truth in front of him to paper.
He wasn’t a warrior for justice, or even a sad*st. He valued the truth of it above all. To catch every small detail of it was his purpose, and he went out to do exactly that.
He wrote better than most scholars I’ve read in my many days, and his articles hold a special place in this library. They’re an important piece of recent history and have been archived as such.
I… I see…
I would’ve loved to meet him someday. I think he would fit right in at this University.
Right…
You know, you still haven’t told me your name.
What was your reason for bringing up this theory of yours?
Oh, well it's my area of expertise, good sir.
You specialize in news?
No, no, no, my good sir. My area of expertise is looking into the great scholars of this world.
Those that are able to change the tides of history through their ability to gather knowledge and spread it to the world. It is my duty to find such scholars and give them the support they need to fulfil their purpose.
That has been the job of every dean before me, and it will be the job of every dean after.
Though, on occassion, I also teach my students about weather phenomenon across the different archipelagos, but that's more of a hobby, really.
I see… Alright. I think I’ve got everything I need.
[ Sound of wood scraping as a chair is being pushed. Wind whizzing by as Dean MacGuffin also stands up and balances himself using his wings ]
Thank you for the interview.
And thank you for being so patient so as to listen to an old Griffin ramble about his theories!
It was a pleasure to have you here. You are always welcome to visit again.
Thank you. It has been a pleasure to meet you to.
Oh, and one more thing.
Yes?
Do write a good piece about us. This university could use a good boost in popularity, and nothing would be better than a few articles from someone as notorious as you.
I’m… I’m just a reporter for the ‘Eyes On Islands’ newspaper.
Yes. I know you are.
[ End Of Transcript ]
As I walked towards the Galapagos Turtle carriage, the Walker family came to see me off.
Pete and his wife offered me a place at his dinner table, but I refused. I had to reach the Central Archipelago in two days if I wanted to meet the deadline for the stories from these notes.
Ari Walker hid behind her father as she stared at me and my bag of Echo Crystals. She hadn’t spoken a word to me during the carriage ride back, either digging her head into one of her books, or looking out at the farmlands. She did pass occasional glances at my equipment, though.
I had an unused crystal left over, so I gave her one. She looked at it with a gleeful smile and thanked me. I offered to show her how to use it, but she told me she'd read about it in a book.
I shared my last few pleasantries with the Walker family before heading over to the Galapagos Ride towards the East Archipelago’s Main Port.
On my ride there, I went through my notes and the recordings from the Echo Crystals to figure out everything that needed to be omitted from the articles.
