In the last week Duncan Dunn had made progress in his understanding of magic. His biggest hurdle had been with it being too easy. The almost intuitive way he could interact with it turned out to be a major stumbling block. Just as his new body had the muscle memory to do things he otherwise did not, it seemed that on a subconscious level he had knowledge he couldn’t actively access. Bridging the gap between what he knew, and what he knew he knew, was a huge pain in the arse. Because it was just so easy to fall back on that intuition.
But if he wanted to develop beyond that instinct he needed to make the effort. He had plans. Long term plans that would help in rebuilding what had been left behind on Earth. Only better this time. With forewarning of all the pitfalls that could lay ahead.
His first major breakthrough… well his actual first breakthrough was discovering that everyone he knew from Oxford had also been reincarnated too. In pretty much the same roles they’d had on Earth. Only with magic rather than science and technology. So he still had some of the brightest minds in the, well Lusfell, to bounce ideas off of.
But the first major breakthrough was discovering several books and scrolls on runes, and realising that they were pictorial representations of the nodes he’d seen in spells from that first day. Much like the electronic symbols back on Earth, only more so. As they were more than symbolic, being actual diagrams of specific nodes. Thus spells could be seen both as a language and also circuitry.
Circuitry he understood, while his grasp of linguistics was much less impressive.
A spell, once constructed, needed to be powered. This came from a Source; a generic term that covered a lot of different things that could be defined as a Source. From the Mageborn trait of some humans, through the elemental Seagels of the Tares, and the divine bond of the Rombe’s Ib, to anything that could be tapped to provide a power source, from magical items with their own ‘batteries’ to...
{
The scrolling error messages brought Duncan out of his musings. He wondered what was happening. What had caused an apparent cascade of failures in the World Engine.
{
A long list of emotional terms scrolled passed his vision.
{<[Emotional [Sources]] Recognised> }
{You have 2 of 6 possible [Sources] in your current form. Do you wish to unlock [Emotional [Sources]]? Y/N}
Duncan wondered what his second Source was.
{[[Personal] Lore] passed (automatic): As a [[Exemplar] Human/[Ashen] Tares] hybrid you have the [[Wind] Seagel]}
{Do you wish to unlock Emotional Sources? Y/N}
“Yes.”
Duncan found himself looking at the list of emotions again. There was only one that spoke to him on a fundamental level.
{You have chosen [Curiosity]. While experiencing [Curiosity] you will increase your total available [Source] ranks by +12…}
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Elsewhere, Amanda found herself in an almost identical situation. The caravan having stopped at the Spiritual Discovery to repair the damaged gate furniture there, they were falling behind in their planned schedule. But stopping to provide services to those who needed them was part of Tolyin’s Ib.
That done, they were a couple of hours past the inn when the World Engine’s interface began scrolling with error messages and a long list of words for different emotions. Amanda wondered why this was happening now, of all times. Turning to look a Heather, sitting beside her, she saw that she too was staring at something scrolling past her vision.
“You seeing this too?” Amanda asked her. Heather nodded.
“I think something broke.” She said.
It was at this point that the list ended and a new option appeared.
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{…Do you wish to unlock [Emotional [Sources]]? Y/N}
Amanda had slots to spare and immediately knew what she’d pick. Drake had often struggled to manage their anger. A loving, compassionate, and peaceful person they’d lived in a world where often those traits were seen as weaknesses and seemed to invariably be punished. She had lost count of the number of times they’d expressed murderous intent directed towards the latest source of injustice in their lives. Of course they’d never, to her knowledge, acted upon that urge. Instead letting their rage build up like a heavy rain in an already overfilled reservoir; threatening to top the dam but yet never actually spilling over.
But Amanda had never struggled with anger like that. Anger was what had gotten her out of bed in the morning. Driven her to do what chores she could. Anger wasn’t something she battled to control. It was her constant companion. It was the driving force of her dynamos. As John Lyndon had sung, anger is an energy. She had mastered it a long time ago.
{You have chosen [Rage]. While experiencing [Rage] you will increase your total available [Source] ranks by +17…}
Turning again to the ever grinning Heather, Amanda knew from her expression she’d already made a choice. Although she’d been 17 back on Earth, Heather seemed to have regressed to an even younger level of emotional maturity here in Lusfel. Amanda dreaded the answer to her next question. She was going to have to better explain the whole master and apprentice dynamic to the girl.
“What did you pick?” She said with a sigh. Heather’s smile beamed back at her.
“Joy”.
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Esmond Sergeant slouched languidly upon his comital throne, comital crown upon his brow. Glittering rings upon his fingers.
It was destiny that had led him to flee the way he had, riding for his life south from Skipingham and Manchwark. He’d ridden his sancre hard, avoiding unwelcoming villages, until he could ride no more. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d found the campsite. He’d fallen asleep in the saddle and woken to find himself in a clearing. He’d had camping equipment in his Cronephere inventory and spent a miserable night under the trees.
It wasn’t until dawn that he’d spotted the fresh cairn at the clearing’s edge. Overcome with curiosity he’d moved the stones. Within was the corpse of a male Tares. On his fingers the signet rings that identified him a count. Specifically the count of Manchwark’s southern neighbour, the county of Ber.
Now he sat within his castle at Penbury, Ber’s county seat, giving the poor fools he had found there the guidance that they had so sorely needed. And Ber was the larger and more populous province. One he now controlled. All it had needed was his strong hand on the tiller; someone, him, to make the difficult decisions. Thus all bent knee to him. Which is what he had longed wished for and deserved.
However just that morning the queen’s couriers had nearly spelt his ruin. They were accompanied by couriers from Manchwark, including that bitch Laura Bonner. Of course she’d seen through him from the outset. Thankfully he’d already been perfidiously poisoning the thoughts of his people against Manchwark. Explaining his delay in reaching home by being unjustly imprisoned by his rival, before he’d valiently made his mistake.
The couriers had fled, but not before he had managed to capture one of them, and the offered invitation to the queen’s council gathering. Now he had a number choices. He could attend the gathering, or not. If he had anyone he could trust he could send them in his stead. But he didn’t. Also that meant that he had nobody yet to rule in his absence. Also with a courier as his prisoner he’d probably get into some sort of trouble with the queen. And in his experience bitches tended to stick together.
He’d already formed an uneasy alliance with the neighbouring county of Atheria, more out of necessity than anything else. For some weird reason he had to pass through Atheria to get to and from the rest of Ber. But that wouldn’t help him in this situation. If he were smart the count would already be sending someone to represent him
Ideally he’d take this opportunity to invade Manchwark, and capture Skipingham while its Earl was abroad. However his armed forces were apparently largely elsewhere, due to whatever conflict had been going on at the continent’s geographical heart, and attempts to levee a militia were going too slowly for his plans. But to push things faster would risk rebellion.
So he’d take the slow road. As soon as his neighbour in Atheria was gone he’d step in, remove whoever was left in charge, and then take over. Then Manchwark. Then further afield until the whole of Tares trembled at his approach.
He rose from his throne and descended the dais to where the captured courier knelt, bound and gagged. He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb.
After all if he wasn’t freely given his due, he could always take it.
{
The message surprised him, and apparently everyone else too. A minute later, after a long boring scroll of different words for emotions, he finally got a pay off.
{You have 1 of 4 possible [Sources]. Do you wish to unlock [Emotional [Sources]]? Y/N}
Indeed he did.
“Vengeance”
{You have chosen [Rage]. While experiencing [Rage] you will increase your total available [Source] ranks by +7.}
“No. Vengeance!”
{You have chosen [Greed]. While experiencing [Greed] you will increase your total available [Source] ranks by +7.}
“I said vengeance.”
{You have chosen [Fear]. While experiencing [Fear] you will increase your total available [Source] ranks by +1.}
{You have 4 of 4 possible [Sources]. You may not gain any further [Sources] until you expand your capacity to utilise esoteric pseudo-energies.}
{[Danger Sense] active; threat detected.}
Who would dare threaten him?
From beside him he heard the sound of rope stretched under tension.
{Threat identified: [Lixiss Farharice] [[Royal] Courier] as activated [[Berserk] Fury] specialisation [Irresistible Force] at total rank 10.}
Only the terror driven boost to his [Born of Darkness] abilities let Esmond drop into the Cronephere fast enough to avoid injury as the ropes binding the courier parted explosively.
As it was she made a bloody smear out of anyone who tried to prevent her escape.