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8th of Tal, 128
I have asked as many questions as I safely could during our journey away from the ruin, what a distance we have come. I would say we have traveled several thousand miles, as many as five or six. Solen keeps me confined to the carriage and only allows his team access, so it is hard to tell. All I have been able to discover about my surroundings is what I can see passing by the windows of the carriage. It is frustrating.
I have tried to convince him that keeping me so isolated can only be suspicious, but he is unwilling to listen.
The carriages themselves are a wonder, a technical marvel, enough to keep me distracted from the forest passing by. They look right out of a fairy tail or an artist''s idealized rendition of some medieval noble’s carriage. But oddly stretched like a limo, with gilded metal patterns covering the surface and the windows, repeating three or four times across its length.
After about three days of rolling through the forest at breakneck pace, we finally make it to a strip of woodlands that had been cleared out, leaving nothing but the wild grasses behind. From there we sped up considerably, apparently the carriages are perfectly capable of locomotion without their wheels. The knights and adventurers removed them, and we hovered along a few feet above the ground, passing through the clear strip of forest at speeds comparable to a highway back home. Solen tells me that the wheels are only really necessary for maneuverability on ‘rough terrain’.
The madness does not end there. Solen gifted me an ENT recovered from one of the fallen adventurers. Unfortunately, he also wiped all of the data stored on it, fortunately not everyone is so stingy with their knowledge. Rickle, a member of Solens adventuring party who was injured, has been keeping me company in the carriage. I managed to convince him to let me transfer a few files from his ENT to mine while he rested.
The devices are wonderful, like tiny computers you keep in a pocket. From what I can tell, if I wanted a device as powerful back home, I would need a whole room larger than our family''s apartment just to fit the machine. Though I can''t be sure about that, we haven’t been close enough for me to access the larger ENT network, and I never did learn much about computing.
The bulk of what I have learned has been from that device, with Rickle’s help in using it. Simple things, like the date. Or the names of some important figures in the town where we are headed. Most importantly, lessons on magic.
They call it the Weave, the complex thread of power that runs through all life. There was a basic primer Rickle had downloaded so he could help his daughter study on the topic. It was invaluable, almost all of my time has been spent in efforts to fully understand its contents. I will summarize what I have learned in my notes on this ENT, as I have run out of space in my journal.
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<li style="font-weight: 400; color: rgba(21, 20, 20, 1)">The Weave exists everywhere without exceptions, it almost reminds me of those ridiculous ideas about string theory Gordon would show me.</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400; color: rgba(21, 20, 20, 1)">With the proper methods it is possible to manipulate the strings, this changes the fabric of reality, creating effects I would call magic.</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400; color: rgba(21, 20, 20, 1)">A person''s capabilities to perform magic is based on the pattern and number of threads they possess, this can be controlled and altered.</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400; color: rgba(21, 20, 20, 1)">This control is not an infinite power, the Weave strongly resists changes to its natural path and constantly fights against alteration to return to that state.</li>
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9th of Tal, 128
Oh my word, today was yet another marvel to rival the horrors I faced just a short week ago. We made it to the “small town” of Gorren’s Dell. It is one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen. It appears the need to build buildings that scrape the sky is an instinctual one, one that remains in humans even worlds apart. When unbound by the rules that govern us on earth, the architecture here is allowed to flow into places our metal-and-glass bound structures could never reach.
My lacking skills as an author will never truly capture the view that sits outside of this very window. I will do my best.
The buildings are a mix between the futuristic imaginations from home and gothic architecture. Intricately decorated arches and spires wind their way up the sides of the towering skyscrapers, windows gleaming in between the gilded decorations of the structures. From the ground the buildings seem impossibly tall, each time a tower or arch comes to a point, yet another layer rises up behind. Some even jutting out or over the lower sections of the building in physically impossible, unsupported overhangs. The implausible towers are even connected by long sky bridges forming these beautiful, knotted nets, crisscrossing and layered high up in the sky. The gilding of each and every building is much the same as what the carriages had, a precious metal spiraling and knotting its way up the building in these patterns that flow along the arched gothic architecture.
The whole city reminds me of a patchwork crochet quilt, each one of the skyscrapers forming a separately weaved square and the bridges connecting it all together. If this is a town, I cannot imagine how impressive a city could be.
We came upon Goren’s Dell abruptly too, though that might be due to the speed we were traveling in approach to the place. We left the cleared forest road and were soon surrounded by massive, gilded walls that lead into the city. The walls were split into two, a lower bottom half densely covered in patterns, and a relatively untouched upper part with only a few of the metal paths roping across its surface. If that was all that went into the wall I would not describe them as massive, the two parts of the wall were not in total very tall, maybe six feet. The top half of the wall, however, did not rest only six feet in the air. Instead, it hovered almost twice that, with an extra six feet of open air in between them, an occasional faint shimmer of blue rippling across the space.
Through the walls, I could see farmland stretching out all for miles around the town. I had Rickle explain to me why the walls were built in such an illogical manner. Apparently, it is not open air but rather a one way barrier between the upper and lower sections, allowing things to cross out to the road but not enter the other way. In the event of an attack, forces could line the long corridors leading to the town and rain attacks down on monsters or invaders.
Unfortunately, Rickle couldn''t answer my questions about the expense or energy needed for the magical walls. I wonder what kind of attacks lead to the need for, what seems to me, such an expensive creation. I have decided it would be unwise to let my judgment be clouded by the magical sights, danger here must be ever present.
We had arrived just as the sun was setting for the day. Solen has offered me a room at the adventurer''s guild building. Or, more accurately, has ordered me to stay there. I do not like It, but I see no other choice. He has told me that tomorrow he will introduce someone who can tell me more about what the adventurers’ guild will require from me.
In other news my ENT has connected to the greater network, the information I could find even at a cursory glance is staggering. I wonder if I could bring such a wonderful idea back home with me, I only imagine what we could do with such an interconnected web of information.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
10th of Tal, 128
I met with a woman named Helvia today, an administrator in charge of the affairs of this branch of the adventurer''s guild. She was much craftier than Solan, and I felt like she knew far too much. I have entered into an agreement with the adventurers guild I do not fully understand.
Normally I would be hesitant to sign any document so eagerly, but I had no other choice, Helvia gave me an offer I could not refuse.
For my own future record, I must better describe how this happened. A rash decision without later research or deliberation is a mistake that is destined to repeat.
Solen woke me with a knock at my door. It was late in the morning, the sun high in the sky and gleaming off of the buildings outside. The scattered panes of glass on the exterior wall of the room let the light through in an artistic way that was kaleidoscopic and breathtaking. Sending rays of sunlight into repeating patterns across the other three walls. It was a wonder that I had not been woken up sooner by a beam of light shining into my eyes, but it had been a long time since I had slept in a real bed.
Solen had brought me some kind of sweet breakfast pastry, it reminded me of a croissant but with some kind of sweet nut filling. It was still hot and smelled heavenly. What followed was much less pleasant, in order to keep my status as a traveler a secret the guild had to conduct several tests and forge dozens of documents. For me that meant a lot of waiting in boring white rooms, filling out dry surveys and being tested for various illnesses and other medical information.
While I suffered through the bureaucracy, Solen, and later Helvia, explained to me what it meant to be a ‘traveler’. To summarize, there are occasionally rips in the weave, when this occurs the threads have to reach out and mend the tear. Sometimes, something gets caught in the mending weave and pulled to Elentier. When a sentient creature is pulled through, they are called travelers, and more often than not the knowledge that comes from another reality can prove invaluable to the people who obtain it first.
After all the other tests had been done, and I was exhausted from the long day of testing and filling out documents. Helvia began what was the most important test of the day. I did not know it at the time but looking back her plan is obvious. Tire me out with all the small details in the beginning and lure me into skipping over the more important ones at the end of the day. I am disappointed that I fell for it.
She brought out a strange device, a needle on the end of an arm attached to a glass orb. After fiddling with a few knobs, she told me to prick my finger. This was yet another layer of distraction. I had noticed that she had not mentioned what the device was for, so I demanded an explanation. What came after was a long and flowery description that sapped even more of my patience away. It boiled down to, “This device measures your strength and ability to manipulate the Weave”.
Tired and put upon as I was, as soon as I heard that, my focus was solely on the machine. My only thought was that this would determine the possibility that I could create my own ticket home. Fool that I am, I should have been watching Helvia’s face.
I pricked my finger.
It was beautiful, as soon as the needle sunk the slightest bit into my finger the device came alight. The light was quickly blinding, then it faded away to show a tangled mess of white glowing threads resting in the clear orb that made up the base of the thing. A single thick white thread of yarn, fuzzy and frayed, extended from my finger on the needle into the mess below.
I was entranced.
Helvia was quick to take advantage of my mental state and whip out a contract guaranteeing the adventurers guild would sponsor my education in mage craft at the capital. I did not read far enough to see what I exchanged in the deal.
Just signed it immediately.
I was too distracted to care, I had found my path home. I realize now how big of a mistake I just made. I should always read the contract closer; I am not sure what I have gotten myself into.
I am convinced, however, that there was something else beyond what I can describe that made me gloss over the contract. But Helvia has again outplayed me, I will have no time to investigate. It seems I am obligated to make my way to the capitol tomorrow. I wonder If the direction I’m heading will take me closer to home or only farther away.
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VIDEO BEGINS TRANSCRIBING — — —
The video opens twisted in a nonsensical way, upside down and askew. The camera is deep in a hole, the sky a solitary oval between gray stone walls. The sky is overcast, and the stones of the wall are the same dark gray, if it weren''t for the vibrant green moss they would blend into the clouds. The camera sits there, the wind whistling through the stones the only indication it is still recording.
>>> FAST FORWARD 2X <<<
Soon enough, something changes. A head pops over the edge of the stones, the small circle putting into perspective how big the hole is and how far down the camera has fallen. This far away, it''s not possible to make out clear details. What is clear, though, is that is not a human head.
The goblin sees the camera and begins to chitter excitedly, the noise oddly distorted as it echoes down the hole. We can see more of his short body as he leans farther over-head for a closer look. He only gets more exited as he gets a clearer view of the camera, his hands waving up above his head as he jumps around performing a little dance. Soon after, he vanishes from view.
Less time passes and the goblin is back, this time with a long stick. He pushes it as far down into the hole as he can, leaning his entire short torso over the edge. The stick is nowhere near long enough to reach to the bottom of the hole, so the goblin uses the stick to make a mark in the moss of the wall at the deepest point he could reach. Then he pulls himself and the stick out and circles around to better see the mark. After a few seconds of judging how deep he could reach, as well as how deep the rest of the hole was in comparison, the goblin runs off with the stick again.
It seems he didn''t go too far, as a scuffling noise can be heard, then a meaty thump and a short shriek of pain.
The goblin reappears looking much worse for wear. He is covered in scratches and has to limp closer to the hole. Once he gets close enough, he sits down on the edge of the hole, swinging his feet over. One of his feet is clearly pointing in a direction it shouldn''t be. He takes a second to consider his mark and the depth of the hole one more time before shrugging and pushing off from the wall.
He slams down to the ground outside of frame, shaking the camera with a sickening crunch, and all of a sudden it is silent again. Nothing but the noise of the wind.
>>> FAST FORWARD 60X<<<
Time passes, the sun sets and rises twice through the hole in the ceiling.
>>> FAST FORWARD 2X<<<
A new goblin shows up poking his head over the ledge, this one doesn’t seem surprised to find the camera or the body next to it. Instead, he just gets to work checking the gaps in the stones that make up the walls of the hole. When he finds a set he likes, he swings his body over and begins his descent.
It takes the goblin a while to find holds to put his hands and feet on as he climbs down the wall. The slick moss covers most of the ledges making for a difficult climb. When the goblin finally makes it halfway down, he makes a mistake. A loose rock is pulled out of the wall and he slips.
At this point, he has gone well past the mark the previous goblin left in the wall, but it is still left with a huge distance to fall. This goblin shrieks as he falls, his desperate hands scrambling to find a new hold only pushing him farther away from the wall. It seems he is not eager to experience the fall his friend took.
A thud, but this time a wail instead of silence. This time the goblin survives. The frame moves, the goblin picking up the camera he and his friend had risked life and limb for. Whimpering, he turns it around in his hands, the recording blurring wildly as the camera is wiped around.
Then it settles, the lens pointed toward the Goblins face, and the first good look on record of a goblin can be seen.
>>>PAUSE<<<