075, 1/2

“I have some questions,” Erick said, sipping his cup of coftea in his chair next to the gardens of Windy Manor.

“I have some as well,” the Headmaster said, wearing white and gold, sipping coftea in the chair across the table from Erick.

The doctors released Erick from the hospital with a clean bill of health hours ago. He had gone back to the dungeon for a little while longer, but soon enough, it was time to rain at the farms of Spur. When he came back to the Manor, Poi informed him that the Headmaster was requesting his time for a talk.

Erick sent everyone else into the house, under the [Prismatic Ward], either to get dinner ready if they wanted, but mainly to get out of the way. If this conversation did not go well he didn’t want them involved. That was a hard sell for Poi and Teressa, but they accepted Erick’s demand. Kiri just stood quietly in the background, looking less than happy about everything.

He summoned up a table and chairs near the garden, while channeling mana through Ophiel to Spur. He sat down in one of those chairs and opened Hocnihai’s third tome for some light, heavy reading, while he waited for the Headmaster to show. The wind blew cool and full of moisture, while waves crashed far below and the sun tilted down in the west, across the ocean. Sunset would happen in an hour. It was good reading weather. Teressa came out of the house with a large pot of coftea and two mugs. Erick thanked her as she set them down on the table. She lingered for a moment, watching Erick, but saying nothing. Erick just nodded. Teressa went back into the house.

Erick waited.

He did not wait long. As the Headmaster appeared in a blip of gold, he flicked a brief spell through the air. A completely clear bubble surrounded him, Erick, Ophiel on Erick’s lap, and the garden furniture. Ophiel twittered in unhappy flutes as the sounds of the crashing ocean down the cliffside vanished, and the gentle wind that blew across the yard ceased, but at Erick’s gentle command, Ophiel settled back down on his lap. Erick continued to channel mana through him as he set Hocnihai’s book aside, onto the table.

There were some initial pleasantries. One was of Erick not wanting to get up and disturb his [Familiar]. Another was of the Headmaster glad to see that Erick had recovered from his recent trouble. Erick offered coftea; the Headmaster accepted. Erick poured him a mug with the perfect control of his Handy Aura.

Strictly speaking, using spells unprompted around other people like both the Headmaster and Erick had done, was a faux pas that ranged from being simply discourteous or maybe rude, to insulting or an act of war, or just plain antagonistic. For most of Erick’s time on Veird, he had been slightly rude without really meaning to be rude. Right now, Erick was deliberately rude, because he had a really good idea about how Messalina had been able to get to him on Oceanside, when this place was both crawling with competent Elites and flying cream-colored Robes that should have been able to see everything that happened, everywhere.

Erick began, “My first question is, if you used me for some sort of bait to track through to Messalina, did it work?” He added, “And did you already scan my recent memories, in order to see what I saw when she contacted me?”

The Headmaster sipped his coftea. He lowered the mug, and said, “We used you as bait. We could not find her. She had moved on too fast. And yes; I already know what she told you.”

“Did you really kill your kids?”

The Headmaster looked off into the distance, toward the horizon where sky met sea and the sun dipped low. With a stern, sad face, he said, “They were not my children. They were copies. Perfect copies, but still copies nonetheless. For a time, I was confused upon seeing her work. It took me a century of searching out every necromancer I had ever held in confidence in order to divine an unhappy truth: that those were not my children, and I am confident in my results. I might be Second, and I might have access to almost all magic, but I am not Rozeta.” He said, “Messalina makes copies, Erick. Perfect copies that don’t realize they are copies. She can even use the former soul to create these copies. In her mind, this means she has the power of True Resurrection.”

Silence stretched, as Erick thought. Eventually, he asked, “Is the soul a permanent thing that does not grow or ever change?”

“The soul both grows and changes, but that does not matter when speaking of wholly replacing that essential part of the Self.” The Headmaster said, “If you are thinking of the Parable of the House, then you are entering into a very large debate, of which there is only one side to choose if you wish to remain sane.”

“I read about that. On Earth, we call that the Ship of Theseus problem. At which point over the life of a vessel, where rows and sails and mast and planks are replaced as necessary, is the ship that left the dock, the same ship that came in?” Erick said, “We never had to deal with actual resurrection, though.” He added, “People were talking about uploading minds into computers when I fell to Veird. They were imagining it as a second life, where the mind continued to live on after the death of the body.”

The Headmaster frowned a little, thinking. He said, “That seems like creating a slave caste to do your electronical bidding for you.”

Erick smiled, despite the situation. He said, “Sorry. I think I might have explained computers poorly. That is my fault. They were used to make our lives easier, yes. But…” He said, “The rich people were talking of putting their minds into computers so that when their bodies died, they could direct their holdings after death.”

“Ah.” The Headmaster said, “This is closer to the real problem of True Resurrection.” He said, “We immortals strive to keep out of much of mortal life, for it would be easy for the wrong kind of person to control everything, forever. Power supports power, after all.” He said, “So people like me help when we can, but mostly we stay out of most of the world’s problems. Mostly, we see to it that other immortals toe the line of non-interference. People are best when they are free to thrive and live their lives on their own, after all.” He said, “Hence, True Resurrection does not work.”

“Politics, then?”

“For those in the know, and in the workings of the world: yes. And I will deny ever having said that.” He added, “But personally, I do not believe that copies are the real thing, so it is easier for me to fight this particular fight than others who merely support the cause.”

“Does Phagar not care?”

“Phagar cares deeply, but he stays out of this particular battle. If he were to take a stance against resurrection, it would give the Resurrectionists legitimacy, for it would mean that their idea of True Resurrection is real. If he stood with them, it would cause the rise of this horrible magic, all across Veird, and go against everything he represents as the God of Finality. And so Phagar stays away, because sometimes that is the best choice, and the rest of the gods try to not be tyrants by stepping into an ideological mortal war. Even Sumtir will not support total war.” He added, “All the tyrant gods died in the Sundering.”

Erick nodded. He would ask Phagar about all of that later, but it was interesting to know that the reason he hadn’t seen any ‘evil’ gods, besides maybe Melemizargo, was that all the evil gods were dead. This was obviously the Headmaster throwing him off course of his questions, but sometimes facts were best supplied through meandering words, and it seemed that this particular conversation was very difficult for the old dragon. He spoke calmly and clearly, but he held his shoulders tight, and his eyes were solidly stuck on the horizon.

Erick asked, “Was that the point of the Sundering? To kill the evil gods?”

“It is one theory. Personally, I think someone tried to take the power of a god, and they catastrophically failed.” The Headmaster said, “I don’t really know why the Old Wizards did what they did, but I do know why Veird survived. It was quite a simple reason, too. When the universe was unraveling, many of the original Relevant Entities of the Script were naturally pulled here to Veird because their original worlds were killed, and their only surviving believers were in chapterhouses on Veird, or in one case, a Champion, who was visiting Veird to find assistance for some quest.” He looked away from the sun, to Erick, saying, “You must understand that Veird was a sanctuary for the light, after all. Koyabez’s human and alvani clergy were the powerhouses on Veird back then, back when this world was much smaller, and wholly devoted to peaceful solutions. They had been around for twenty thousand years or more by the time of the Sundering, and though Veird had been assaulted countless times by almost every powerhouse in the Old Cosmology, they had never fallen. Their defenses were simply the best of the best.”

The Headmaster finished speaking, but Erick did not ask another question. He just listened, giving the Headmaster a chance to speak in whatever direction he wanted, or to ask his own questions.

The Headmaster stared into the distance, controlling his posture perfectly, like he was holding in a lot of pain, as he said, “I did not adjust your spell. I did not adjust hers either. She says that her children were her turning point, but that was untrue. She never forgave me for holding back her spell for thirty seconds. Everything fell apart from there.” He said, “I should have learned my lesson years ago but my curiosity got the better of me, as it has from time to time. I… I apologize, for touching your spell.”

“If you are a Registrar, you know I have a way to check on this, directly.”

“I know.” He relaxed, saying, “And you should learn to hide your ability to flaunt the powers of others. It would do you well in your further goals.”

“If you’re going to kill me, I would rather just get it over with.”

“Taunting dragons is a foolish thing to do.”

“So is killing your kids.”

The Headmaster frowned. He refilled his coftea. He spoke plainly, and almost-forcefully, “I did not kill them. Messalina created copies and raised them to hate me. I asked for a meeting. They accepted. I made myself vulnerable, and they took advantage. Her plan was to kill me and pull my soul apart in order to create a dragonless-copy. The three of them would have succeeded if they were going up against the image of ‘The Headmaster’ that Messalina had taught her copies, but they were completely unprepared for the real thing. Messalina managed to get away, but the children were completely unmatched for a fight between a dragon of the highest tier, and the Second.”

Erick digested that information for a moment, as silence held in the clear dome of their little meeting.

Erick said, “You should help her find these killers.”

The Headmaster relaxed. “That would be the most prudent thing to do, but I cannot. I still love her, and I cannot get close; not ever again.” Benevolent hatred took hold of his voice, as he said, “She is as toxic as her hydras, and I would live to die in that mire until something broke, and a hundred thousand more people died in the crossfire.”

The Headmaster’s words hung heavy in the air.

Erick said, “I don’t want to be involved in this sort of thing.”

The Headmaster smirked. “If you wish to kill the Shades, you will need to be involved in many scenarios like this.” He added, “I will say this, though: If you choose to support Messalina, you might be able to wring a binding bargain out of her, and she would be much more willing to move against those Dark monsters than I. You could cut your plots down to years, instead of decades.”

Erick said, “I don’t think it’s going to take quite that long to get all my spells in a row.”

“You miscalculated the light dungeon.”

“You implied it would take 5 days.”

He added, “You could have it done that fast. Just string together some Plus-100 Focus crown. Plus 200, if you must, though that might take some more of that experimenting you seem to think we don’t do.”

“Were you expecting me to do that? To lower my defenses on Oceanside?”

“Vaguely.” The Headmaster spoke at a quick pace, “We were watching you the whole time, trying to respect your privacy, but also watching for her attack. This worming might have happened sooner if you had gotten rid of your Strength enchantments.” The Headmaster said, “This is a very complicated topic with many edge cases, but broadly, Health is a natural barrier to all directly hostile magic, in a way that is much more solid than a [Personal Ward]. You can’t conjure knives inside of a target, after all. All magic works from the outside toward the inside. It did not used to be like this, but the Script changed that.”

Erick frowned in thought. You couldn’t conjure a magic inside of a person? Well that tracked with everything Erick had ever seen… hadn’t it?

The Headmaster noticed Erick’s thinking. He asked, “Did you not know this?”

“No.” Erick said, “I can’t think of anything false about that statement, but I also never thought to try and make such a spell, either.”

The Headmaster frowned in disbelief. Then he relaxed, and said, “Almost all young mages try to make such a bypassing spell, but that experience usually teaches them their lesson in the form of an Error. This barrier of Health is a fact that is rather self evident, so I can see where your lessons might not have touched upon the subject.” He added, “We don’t teach a great many of the small things that most people would just pick up through natural experience.”

Erick nodded, and listened.

“Back to parasites.” The Headmaster said, “Parasites are affected by this barrier, and they start from the outside, just like any physical weapon. And just like any physical weapon, they have an easier time slipping through that barrier when that barrier is less robust. Calzin acquired parasites in his feet from those Parasite Roaches from his time walking around on the mountainside, but you did not, and neither did your guard. This was not because you did not step on them; you must have. They were everywhere. But your increased Health protected you.

“Because of this, Messalina needed a larger opening than most since she couldn’t just put them in your house on your pillows anymore while your defenses were down. She had to wait for you to eat one in those sandwiches Calzin brought you.” The Headmaster said, “He was infected by a dream worm, too, but so were five other people. One of our own Mind Mages kept Poi partially blind, while we waited for her to bypass all your defenses and make the real connection.” He added, “But none of it worked.”

Erick sighed out, staring at the setting sun. He said, “What about her implications against Caradogh?”

“He’s in the wind. Near as we can tell, she alerted him right before speaking to you, knowing that I would see what she said. She likely has some use for him, otherwise she would have let him hang.”

“… Did you find the people who stole the diamonds?”

The Headmaster chortled. “I think Messalina stole them.”

Erick scrunched his face. “How? Why?”

“She likes shiny things,” The Headmaster said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. He added, “She got them in the same way that she plants her Dream Worms, and how she does almost everything outside of her immediate domain; those pixies. They’re her devoted servants. They’re a race she created in the shape of an extinct Fey in order to have the perfect spies at her beck and call. Only a few of them are actually a part of her people; she did actually manage to recreate an extinct race, after all. Most of them have their own societies down in the jungles of Nergal.

“They almost always take [Blink], [Teleport], Scion of Focus, [Airshape], [Lightshape] for the partial invisibility effect, and a host of other tiny spells. They’re also slightly telepathic, but only enough to hide from Mind Mages.” He added, “The only way to see them is when they want to be seen, or when you have Mana Sense up and focused. Even then, you might not see them even if they’re floating right in front of your face.” He added, “Or… they could have stolen those diamonds on their own, just to taunt me. They honestly love her; they’re not slaves.” He said, “For all of Messalina’s faults, she does not mind control or soulshift people who do not ask for it. The only mind tampering she does at all is to spread her dream worms against her enemies to sow discord and cause distractions. If it weren’t for her flagrant disregard for the sanctity of life and how much she throws her magic around to whomever can offer her a fair payment… I could even respect her.”

Erick said, “You’re being rather open about this. I expected a lot more anger from you.”

“I do tend to give off that persona.” The Headmaster said, “But Messalina has a way of turning people against me. I do not want that to happen, here, with you. You are a fine person, Erick Flatt, but you make mistakes, like anyone, so if I must spell this out, then I will.” He turned to face Erick, and said, “If you choose her you will lose the world, because I will use all of my vast resources to ensure that Messalina never again comes to power. You will become an outcast with a temperamental witch at your side and no one else.” He added, “I will not move to kill you or anyone you hold dear, for I have no doubt that Messalina is waiting to resurrect you or anyone else at a moment’s notice and fill your copy’s mind with lies, and I do not want to sunder your soul just to deny her a victory; it is too cruel. But if you thought Caradogh was bad, then you do not know what it means to be threatened by someone with real, true power.”

Erick said, “That’s more what I was expecting.”

The Headmaster looked at him, with calm eyes, full of sunset light. Erick felt a chill race down his spine, as sweat prickled at the back of his neck. The mug of coftea in his hands was the warmest thing in the world, but even that was turning cold, because the Second was practically a demi-god, and he was staring at Erick like he was a morsel waiting to be devoured.

The moment broke.

The Headmaster said, “I am fine with you making this spell she wants, but this is a dangerous thing to be able to find someone through [Polymorph]. No one has ever managed to do such a thing before. There is a Class called Sin Seeker that is able to discover the truth of a person no matter their disguise, but they need to be in physical contact to achieve that bit of magic. Mage Hunter is able to force people into their Natural Form, but that only works if the person in question still retains their First Form. [Eyes of the Goddess] can pin down the location of a person in question, through any disguise, but even that has a vague range of 500 kilometers.”

Erick listened, as sweat dried, and he channeled mana through Ophiel, to Spur. Ophiel listened, too; completely silent.

He said, “There are other ways to get a Familiar Form besides killing and eating, you know. There’s the originally intended way, for one. Live long enough with any others, be they animal or person, and you one day discover that you are able to create a Familiar Form of those animals or people that is uniquely you. If you stick with that form, it even becomes your Natural Form. You age, you grow, depending on the new form. This was the original function of [Polymorph]. It was a way to understand others by becoming them, or a way to become someone else and leave your old life behind. That’s why the archmages in the first centuries of the Script created the spell; to get away from their old lives and to start again where none knew they were mages.

“You have to understand that in those first centuries, there was a very large push by many cultures and societies to punish everyone who picked the path of the mage; the wounds of the Sundering were still very visible upon the land.

“But like all magic, a few took this boon of [Polymorph] and turned it into a tool to kill and kill again. The creation of the Sin Seeker Class and an expansion to the Mage Hunter’s Class Abilities were added rather early on, again, by archmages expanding the Script, after it rapidly became apparent that people were abusing [Polymorph]. It wasn’t till years later that [Eyes of the Goddess] was developed by a very old friend of mine a millennium gone already.”

Erick asked, “And that’s as far as anyone has solved this problem? What about soul magic and mind magic? I don’t know anything about them, but shouldn’t they be able to see who is behind the face?”

The Headmaster smiled. He said, “There are smaller spells that work in smaller areas. [Eyes of the Goddess] uses a few of those smaller spells, in fact. But, no. No one has ever created the spell that would find a person anywhere on the world, no matter their current Form.” He added, “[Polymorph] is a very strong spell. If used in a certain way, a person can shroud their soul and their mind into those whose forms they steal. Not many know this way, and I have never shared that particular secret with anyone, but I do inform people that it is possible just so that they can understand the true depths of the problem.”

“… time magic?”

The Headmaster looked at Erick, quizzically. He said, “That’s an absolute no, direct from Phagar; a proclamation laid down 1400 years ago at the start of the Script.”

“Not altering time, but just looking at it? Going through the 4^th dimension.”

The Headmaster frowned. “Dimensional magic is Banned.”

“No no… Uh.” Erick said, “I think there’s a language barrier here. I mean. We live in three dimensions, right. Length, width, height, correct?”

“Ah. You mean to Gaze the River of Time. Using [Witness] on a person, perhaps?”

“Well. No. But maybe. I mean to look at a person’s past.”

The Headmaster nodded. “This was how they created the Sin Seeker Class. What you speak of is already there, and very, very few people are good enough to achieve [Witness] in the first place, let alone the Class it produced. Every city has a few Sin Seekers, but none of them do what Messalina wants. None of them are able to [Eyes of the Goddess] the specific location of a specific person.”

“Is [Witness] the only way to look through time?”

“There are many restrictions on the Script to prevent abuses, and time magic is a rather hard limit governed directly by Phagar. Even [Witness] doesn’t truly look through time. It just allows a recipient to reconstruct the manasphere as it was, based on what is there. If the manasphere is too ripped or turbulent, [Witness] will fail to see the River. The best Sin Seeker I ever knew was only able to view ten years of a person’s life, and even that was a spotty [Witness] that only hit the highlights that left permanent marks on the body, mind, or soul.”

“Could a person just ask Phagar or some other Relevant Entity for a Quest to end the Polymorphed person’s life, and then follow where that quest leads?”

The Headmaster smiled. “Sure. A Champion could do that. Or a particularly devout religious leader. A bishop of Sumtir could call for a Quest against a particularly evil person, though that is a lot rarer than you might think.”

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“That’s a nonstarter idea, then.” Erick thought. He asked, “She’s a summoner too, right? Couldn’t she work out how to forcefully summon someone to her?”

“That magic does not exist as I think you are imagining it, either.” The Headmaster said, “Even a nonconsensual [Teleport] is practically impossible for most people. And besides, she would need to be directly in front of them and also know them as the people who killed her village, which would make this whole [Particle Scan] idea unnecessary.” He added, “[Forced Teleport] is a wildly varied spell. There are a lot of holes in what I just said, but they would be filled if we spoke for several hours on this subject.”

“That reminds me. Do you know how a Shade’s [Teleport Lock] works?”

“It is a divine gift, bestowed by the Darkness.” The Headmaster’s eyes narrowed at the sunset. “There are quite a few divine magics out there that I have never touched. The storms of Sininindi. The harvests of Atunir. The battlecries of Sumtir. The beauty of Aloethag.” He added, “The [Zone of Peace] of Koyabez.”

Erick smirked as he said, “I got 12 points for that, and it went to people who brokered a peace between the Kingdoms and the Republic before the Halls of the Dead could turn the continent into a warzone. I think I’m okay with that outcome.” His voice turned hard as he added, “Besides, I want to kill the Shades, not broker a peace.”

“Not one for peace…” The Headmaster looked on, as he said, “The world was in a state of uncomfortable peace before you came along.”

“And if you all had done your jobs, then I wouldn’t have to fight at all.”

“I agree,” The Headmaster said, without reservation. “We have left wounds scattered unhealed across this world for a long time. I do my part, but I am not a tyrant. I will not move unless my help is accepted. Mostly, it is not.” He asked, “Have you heard of the Tragedy of Quintlan?”

Erick didn’t know where the Headmaster was going with that, but Erick went along anyway. He said, “A little. It’s the only uninhabited continent on Veird.”

“The Underworld down there still has some cities, but yes, the overland is uninhabited, and extremely wild.” The Headmaster said, “There is a story to tell here, so if you will pardon this old man his tangents, I would like to tell it to you.”

Erick filled his mug with more coftea, and with a questioning look at the Headmaster, and a subsequent nod and him holding out his own cup, Erick filled the Headmaster’s cup as well.

The Headmaster said, “It takes a lot of resources to maintain a city on Veird. Monsters are constantly spawning everywhere. It starts with slimes, but if they’re not managed properly, oozes eventually come next. Or elementals. Or any other manner of monsterized creature from some other location, that sees all the food generating out of thin air in the form of slimes, and decides to make a new home in an old, forgotten dungeon.

“Food was one of the problems of Quintlan, but that comes later, and maybe not how you’re thinking.

“The former nations of Quintlan…” The Headmaster looked up into the air, softly saying, “Over 1100 years ago, by now.” He continued, “They were a massive population center. Six billion refugees from other worlds, all welcomed to Veird by Koyabez’s open arms. On that once thriving land, they [Stoneshape]d mountains into cities. They reshaped the Underworld for water. [City Shape] was a very popular spell in those early days, as well as [Weaken Monsters] to hold back the ever-growing horde outside the city walls. In the first three hundred years after the Sundering, the people of Quintlan led the charge against Melemizargo’s Hatred; to killing the monsters of the world. But no one really knew what they were doing, and many stepped on the tails of others. Some nations used [Weaken Monsters] without care, and the resulting rage when the spell inevitably lapsed decimated neighboring kingdoms. When those neighboring kingdoms fell, their sewers that they had made to control the generation of slimes in their cities… Those sewers still generated slimes. And then came the oozes. The oozes ravaged everything, while assassins who had been waiting for revenge killed those who could fight back, and thus the house of cards that was Quintlan came tumbling down.

“I have radically simplified the true Tragedy of Quintlan. It was not an easy, quick process. Nations rose from the ashes of others. Nations fell back to that ash. The eventual, completed process took a hundred years, and there is much debate as to when the problems truly started. But there is one thing that all the historians agree on: The Tragedy of Quintlan happened because the people in charge liked it when their neighbors died.

“That continent was not overpopulated. Whatever the historians say, it was not overpopulated. Sure, there were refugees from every walk of life stuffed together into a land with very little resources except the developing Script. But, as in every case like this, someone rises to the top and leads the rest. Originally, we had leaders that understood the need to work together for the common good, but after hundreds of years, that was not the case. Eventually the entire continent fell to raging oozes because of mortals Hellbent on getting to the top of the pile, and not caring how they got there.

“I say all this because we were in an equilibrium before you disrupted the world. People died. People thrived. Veird was stable. Now we have Particle Magic, and you continue to speak of new magics that likely do exist. I have heard of others developing lightward spells like never before, but I had not linked that to your influence until that aborted lecture that began with ‘Four Fundamental Forces’.

“But back to Quintlan. The Tragedy of Quintlan happened for a million small reasons, but the one that started it all was something very similar to your [Exalted Storm Aura]. An archmage created the spell [Create Food and Water], and they were hailed as a hero as their spell became part of the open Script. Personally, I believe that this spell was not a major problem, but it exacerbated the separation between the rich and the poor. Those who could make excellent food were snatched up with promises of gold and good lives. Those who couldn’t, were relegated to porridge and squalor, and the divide spread. Eventually, many rulers outlawed lavish feasts of [Create Food and Water], except for their own personal uses.