Molly sat on her dorm floor, playing with dolls.

It was far past her bedtime, but with no one to get onto her, she saw it as a sneaky opportunity to finish her little romance storyline.

How devious of her.

It was strange for a five-year-old to be present in the sage dormitories, since, well, she wasn't a sage. She was there due to the fact that she was the daughter of the author. She was being kept there ‘just in case anything is strange about her’. The sages worried that, like her father, she would have some strange quality to her. A child born by parents from different dimensions could harbor unknown powers or strange attributes.

She was an Exotic Relic herself.

Unlike her dad, she was born with the same magic capabilities as any other person in this world. Perhaps too much, as those with powerful magical capability tend to have a discolored forehead, as the magic organ that all people have is enlarged.

Her forehead housed a deep blue pearl, embedded halfway in her cranium. She has the potential to become a powerful magic user.

Alistir ran into her room.

[Alistir]: “Miss Molly, you must come with me! It is urgent!”

[Molly]: “Ali, what is it? Don't you know how to knock? I'm busy!”

Molly began to notice the mood on Alistir. He went from an urgent panic to a look of sorrow and pity.

[Molly]: “What's wrong, Ali?”

She walked fast with Alistir, with him holding her hand tight.

Was she in trouble? Then, she saw her dad.

Molly was speechless.

Her father, the light of her life, her inspiration, had died. One night, he was there, cracking jokes and taking naps with her. And now, he's gone?

[Molly]: “Mr. Bailin, Dad's cold. We need to warm him up!”

[Bailin]: “Molly, it's ok. He won't ever catch a cold again.”

The reality began to set in for her. A pit began to form in her stomach, a strange fear and sadness she had never felt before, one that felt almost external and out of her control. It felt foreign, it hurt to still be there.

What happened? How did this happen? What caused this?

The pit began to grow, and hurt inside of her gut. The inner pain ate through her train of thought, the mental noise making it hard to think.

Fleeting coherent questions turned to incoherent emotions and grief.

And so she collapsed to her knees, held her stomach, and began bawling.

While Molly sat beside her father’s body, the two sages discussed in the hall outside.

[Alistir]: “Well, what do we do now?”

[Bailin]: “He took his answers to the grave. We’ll have to work with what he left behind.”

[Alistir]: “I know that much, but… doesn’t this make him a sort of martyr? Don’t we kind of have to respect his legacy now?”

[Bailin]: “It would be disrespectful not to. Yet, this act could be a manipulation to coerce us into making use of his work.”

[Alistir]: “Wha…”

[Alistir]: “Bailin, do you have any idea how mad it is to do this?! He died to do that to us?!”

[Bailin]: “Yes. I do.”

[Alistir]: “You truly think it’s likely?”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

[Bailin]: “Knowing him, it’s something he would probably do.”

He was thrown out into a ditch and buried later that night, without her knowing.

—--------------------------------------

It had all happened far too fast. She had even begun to doubt herself, thinking that she was taking her father's death far too lightly.

Maybe the true shock would come later.

As the days pass, and the initial shock and grief dies down, Molly’s mind gradually began to clear. She was an intelligent five-year-old, and could adapt quickly to this situation. The cause of death was still unknown, but self-inflicted wounds were ruled out, and the likely culprit was the accumulation of magic in his body.

The timing seemed off though. Had he been fighting through the pain, giving up once his work was completed? Or did he poison himself when he finished?

Perhaps the book was so important, he gave up on life once he completed it? What was so important about that book?

So, she decided to ask to see it for herself.

The library was a large, ornate room full of wood carvings and isles of bookshelves. It wasn't even the main library, but a higher-level one for scholars with higher ranks. The very special books, like the Mechanomicon, were in display cases at the very back. Alistir was in the library reading… something. Molly didn’t care what he was doing.

[Molly]: “Ali, can I go see Daddy’s book? Pleeeaaassuhhh?”

He struggled to say no, and not because she intentionally droned out the ‘please’ to be adorable. She had just lost her father, and wanted to see what he spent all his time working on. The last connection she had to him was locked away from her, forbidden from sight. Yet, the text was extremely confidential. As one of the four sages, he had the authority to open it, but reading the forbidden portions would result in losing his title, and likely, prison time.

Only if he was found out.

Besides, much of that text is likely going to end up being disproved by future sages and scholars. Just a strange footnote in history. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt for a child, who can barely read, to see a few pages of it.

[Alistir]: “Uh-sure, Miss Molly. But only if I watch over you. That book could be very dangerous, and I’ll only let you read the approved pages.”

[Molly]: “My Dad would never hurt anyone.”

[Alistir]: “I can’t be so sure.”

Sitting down on the reading bench in the library, Alistir deliberated on which page to turn to. He wanted to help Molly in any way he could, both to grow as a person and to overcome her sadness.

[Alistir]: “...Alrighty, let’s see. Doo-do-doo-do-dooo… Ok, how about page eleven of chapter seven, the ‘Chapter of Applications’?

Surely, this will take her attention off of her grief. This chapter seems to deal with applying the (likely false) knowledge of the past chapters to make machines and inventions. Like using lightning and metal to make thinking machines called ‘computers’ and odd golemancy and advanced clockwork to make ‘robots and automobiles’. Even he was fascinated by the concepts presented here. He chose this because of the diagram of a flying machine called a ‘helicopter’ that would most definitely fascinate her.

[Molly]: “What is this supposed to be, some kind of carriage?”

[Alistir]: “It’s called a helicopter, your dad wrote. Apparently, if you attach a windmill to the top and spin it fast enough, the air will be forced down and the helicopter up, allowing one to fly without magic.”

[Molly]: “...My Dad died for this?”

[Alistir]: “Uhh-umm I-that isn’t all, he has a lot more-”

[Molly]: “You’re telling me he died for drawing and writing down his imagination?! That was more important?”

[Alistir]: “Calm down-”

[Molly]: “...He left me for this?”

Molly began to cry.

[Alistir]: “...I can explain.”

[Molly]: “What?”

[Alistir]: “I think it wasn’t his imagination. Some strange materials were also brought along when he got here.”

[Molly]: “So, he wasn’t lying?”

[Alistir]: “Perhaps he wrote down information from his world in a book, in hopes that it could be used to help other people.”

As he said that, a realization came over him. Suddenly, he didn’t seem that crazy at all. He thought about it from that man’s point of view. Imagine you are living your life, and suddenly you are transported to a new world, one with strange new forces, people and cultures. To be able to see where this society can advance and write down what they can improve on, and such changes would bring about total revolution in daily life for the better, who wouldn’t be excited? Other than that knowledge, he had nothing going for him, and he was chronically ill, so writing down all of that knowledge was his best option.

You could say it is the greatest act of heroism he could possibly do in his current circumstance.

Still rude to die on your loved ones like that though.

[Alistir]: “Umm… I think we should continue.”

[Molly]: “Ok.”

[Alistir]: “Let’s go to a different page, page twenty of chapter six, the ‘Chapter of Society’.”

This part caught Alistir’s eye. It was discussing how food and resources could be effectively transported across and between cities. If true, this could solve many issues that the Kingdom of Iracia faces, which was the whole reason for doing the exotic ritual in the first place.

[Alistir]: “ Ahem.. ‘Using the methods of industrialization and standardization, one can build vehicles faster and more powerful than any horse-drawn carriage. Instead of one person building a whole product, lots of people build tiny portions of a whole, and specialize in making that part. This makes each end product the same, which streamlines repairs, employs more people, and makes construction more efficient’.”

[Alistir]: “Interesting.”

[Molly]: “What is it?”

[Alistir]: “Um… your father might have made something priceless.”

They continued reading. Some of the ideas presented were common sense solutions. They would be important even if everything else was false. This is still a national treasure even without the possible revelations.

It didn’t hit like last time at the roundtable, probably because he was reading the book himself and comprehending the text.

[Molly]: “I’m starting to see why my dad wrote this.”

Molly came to the same conclusion that Alistir did earlier.

Her dad may be the most important figure in history. Changing the world, making lives better, everyone would be their own noble and scholar. How could she live up to him?

Well, she didn’t have too. After all, those weren’t his ideas. Still, to know all of that at the same time puts him at the level of Head Sage. To be able to put on a smile, even in impending death, was no easy feat.

In his world, her father was also a legend.

And she would follow in his footsteps.