The Maid Is Not Dead

I retired early that day. In the evening peace of my room, I extracted the mistreated notebook from my pocket and set about to examine it with my full attention. Labors of this nature appeared to me, by an unwritten rule, better carried out under candlelight, so I set one atwinkle on the small desk by the bed, and proceeded to peel apart the notebook covers in the warm, wavering glow.

The text was faint, the letters thin, but gradually a story of sorts began to emerge.

A disjointed story lacking prosaic coherence and arc of drama, but so human lives tended to be.

The early pages kicked off as a youthful travel journal of sorts, penned by a gifted but financially troubled scholar seeking his fortune. He believed he had come upon something of tremendous significance to the world of magics, but found no understanding among his peers. Nobody being the prophet in their own land, this Master Karl Ryndell resolved then to head west to conquer the growing markets of Voynia, where he believed he would find willing buyers appreciating of his study. A technique employing high-level Sigils would amount to far more than the sum of its parts, worth many times any individual sign, and should have ensured him and his descendants a long life of prestige.

Alas, only a wanderer at this point, owning little more but the clothes on his back, Master Ryndell could only trust his own legs to deliver him to the faraway lands, at times a cart, or a boat. He came ashore north of the Ursus range, a mere oarsman to a merchant vessel, and then slowly came to realize he had landed on the wrong side of the mountains. There was no audience for his arts among the secular feudal lords of the North or the downtrodden peasantry, so he had to tread on southward.

While about it, the great mage arrived at the same conclusion as I had generations later: the key locations on this globe of ours were pointlessly far apart.

Yet, Master Ryndell didn't let go of hope. Over time, the travel journal was transmuted from idle everyday observations on the wayside into an early draft for a bombastic sales pitch. The text assumed more and more grandiose turns of phrase as it went on, the author no doubt picturing Kings and Queens in reception, and court wizards dyed green with envy.

However, the longer the trip took of the mage, the more his courage and optimism started to wane.

Ere the end, he suspected that before fortune and glory he was headed only for a nameless grave. The notes that had begun as a blue-eyed memorial to enjoy in his prosperous elder days found its last form in a testament of sorts, a desperate prayer to no gods but only his reader. Even more than his own end, he dreaded that his magical discovery should be forgotten and never find the recognition it rightfully deserved.

In all sincerity, I couldn't possibly do a better job at succinctly summarizing the arcane technicalities of the journal than the author himself. I lacked the necessary degree for such a job. Therefore, it is best that you see it for yourself.

- BRIEFLY ON SIGILS -

Each cryptogram offers its beholder a glimpse into the truth of reality, but how this truth takes root and blossoms in each person varies greatly based on individual factors which science has yet to put a name on. From the moment the gift is awakened by a glance through the elusive keyholes, it begins to grow along its own peculiar pathways in the resident soul, and only the timely maturing of the plant may reveal its final shape.

No two talents are precisely the same or may manifest via identical practices, even if the Sigil employed by all the adepts were the very same. This seeming randomness, or shall we call it capriciousness, of the talent has placed many challenges and limitations on magical education. A rigid pursuit of a predefined curriculum will only ensure that a small minority succeed and the vast majority will fail.

This unfortunate outcome has been, for centuries, taken for granted, and blamed on the disciples themselves under ambiguous terms such as "lack of talent", or "poor motivation", or "laziness", or "subpar brain matter", or various morally contemptible racial terms, which have only recently been questioned by newer research.

I'll put my own belief clearly now.

The problem has never been so much that of student quality, as it is that of the broad and self-serving definitions of SUCCESS. It is simply the nature of the Art that where one manifests a sphere, another one manifests a cube, and another one a cone, and another one a star, and there is no use in trying to force everyone to conjure spheres by sheer authoritative will, while dismissing the rest as incurable coneheads.

The result of such is nothing but a waste of talent and a disaster to the magic community.

However, it cannot be disputed that this element of unpredictability makes sharing arcane knowledge from person to person exceedingly difficult, if not outright senseless, since one of the cornerstones of scientific research—the power to reliably recreate the obtained results—cannot be trusted, nor is in all cases even possible.

What else can learned masters then tell their aspiring disciples but the vaguest banalities, such as "You're off to a beginning of sorts, I suppose! Congratulations! Now go out there and teach yourself!"

This does little else but demoralize the pupil, discredit education, and become a filter even greater than obsessing over perfect spheres.

- POSSIBLE SOLUTIONS -

After years of study, I have glimpsed upon one potential—albeit still partial—solution to the aforementioned problem of the inconsistency of magic.

The advantages of my method are in that it is not only plain enough for anyone immersed in the Art to test and verify for themselves, but also straightforward to explain at a level of terminology a junior in the field may grasp.

In case of individual Sigils, conscious attempts to control and steer their manifestations have always borne lackluster fruit, and I have not been able to change this either.

To give a basic example, of the disciples who learn Water Sphere as their first ritual of the Mystery of Aqua, only less than half learn Tidal Javelin as the second rite, although the Sages have deemed it as the most ideal second stage. A quarter learns Water Arrow, fewer learn Blue Wave, and a very small percentage manfiest some bizarre whip whirl suited only as a parlor trick to amuse plebeians.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Regrettably, the rites of a given circle are mutually exclusive; which ever second stage ritual you learn, the others become unavailable for life. Or so says common belief, with no exceptions introduced. Many cognitive tricks, from mental image training to outright hypnosis, physical training, dieting, meditation, and so forth, have been tested in an effort to guide adepts down the same paths judged as most desirable by the Elders, to no consistent effect.

However, I have, through diligent study and unrelenting practice, discovered another element that has a very noticeable influence on Sigils, and that is—OTHER SIGILS.

This is not a groundbreaking proposition, you may want to say; it has been done before.

A combination of Ignis and Aqua, for instance, may be used to generate copious amounts of steam, as Archmage Zettarl discovered already in 1134, third age—although that is not quite the exact technical process I seek to explore through my study.

What I speak of isn't merely violently mixing and mashing the conjured effects of different natures to produce new effects; it is manipulating the base mechanics of the Sigils themselves by means of other Sigils, before the rites manifest in the physical plane. The merest insinuation that this could be done got me laughed out of the Wiseman Island. My colleagues outright refused to hear it.

True, this method is exceedingly difficult to execute.

I will not lie to you and say anyone can do it, and it is not only a question of personal aptitude either.

To begin with, not all Sigils are compatible in a way that allows interactivity.

In case of Ignis and Aqua, for instance, fire is unable to modify the fundamental concept of water, or vice versa, in such a way that the rites would manifest anything. Conjure hot enough flames and they will evaporate water, as Maester Zettarl did, but for that to happen, you must first have fire and water in suitable quantities. There is no way to make Aqua manifest in a gaseous state from the start, or conjured fire that would behave like a fluid. On this, I agree with my senior adepts.

But the point of interest here is—THERE EXIST SIGILS DEDICATED TO MODIFYING STATES OF BEING, and have no apparent other uses!

As if the enlightened minds of Parnasso had specifically wanted someone to use them in such a way as I now have!

- ON THE GOALS OF THIS STUDY -

In the beginning, when I was still a student on the Isle of the Wise, I set three main goals for my thesis, which needed be accomplished before I would attempt to publish the results. They were as follows:

1. Prove that a compatible Sigil may beneficially modify the base functionality of another Sigil.

2. Prove that multiple casters may achieve the very same result using the same combination Sigils.

3. Prove that these compound effects are commercially viable.

Reading these lines, you're probably thinking what my elders told me later in plain words:

his undertaking is recklessly, almost irrationally ambitious, involves many technical problems, and its end goals are morally suspect.

Multicasting of Sigils is an elementary growth step every disciple of magic attempts at least once in their lives, as soon as they learn their second sign, regardless of what they have been told previously—and quickly discover this is not so brilliant an idea as it seems. Most signs are not compatible at all, to the point that they cancel each other out. Invoking the second Sigil immediately dispels and replaces the first activation, or else both fail.

But there are many Sigils.

We know of sixty-eight, meaning that there are at least 2,278 possible pairings, and the list only grows if we are able to combine three or more.

Considering that no one in history—at least after the Great Alchemists themselves in the Second Age—has mastered every Sigil, there must still exist combinations that no soul has tested before. So declaring, "It cannot be done!" without any proof is a phrase an intelligent person should never let pass his lips!

With that thought, I took it upon myself to add to our growing base of knowledge, even knowing I will never be able to complete the work.

At times over the years, I must admit, it has seemed to me as if all the gods and men conspire together to make my work as difficult as it could possibly be, without outright murdering me. But I have persisted this far and intend to do so from hereon also, so that you and future generations might reap the benefits.

In order to experiment on my theory and prove its key points, we soon come up against a very predictable wall I already touched upon earlier in brief:

The researcher must have mastered a wide selection of Sigils in order to put them to the test.

Unfortunate, but since their conception, Sigils have become an object of fierce competition and commerce, and are very costly for a lone entrepreneur without wealthy patrons who believe him worthy of the investment. I am not one of these privileged people, as much as it pains me to confess. Even on Wiseman Island, where knowledge is supposed to be freely shared for the good of the many, Sigils are guarded with a jealous pride, and the number of signs a student is allowed to learn for free is very limited.

You must achieve either exceptional results, or else have very deep pockets, to be deemed worthy.

After losing my access to the library of the learned following my banishment, my sole remaining choice has been to travel and look for more, while carrying out experiments with the few signs already in my possession.

The night wore fast away, and I was barely past the beginning of the verbose wizard's notes. It galled me to interrupt midway through, but going into the dungeon sleep-deprived would not have been very healthy. The remainder would have to be saved for another day.