Alden took a slow step in, hands fluttering all around him. “What is all this?” Frank chuckled. “Your gonna have to be more specific than that son.” Alden flailed his arms wildly, his voice catching up with his astonishment. “This! All of this! What do you mean this killed her? What even is all of this? Is it an investigation? A pattern or spell or affinity? What is it?” Frank just stared at Alden, a small smile on his face. “I had a similar reaction when she first showed me. Even now I don’t think she showed me everything, just what was here. It was enough though.” Alden sputtered some more. “That still doesn’t answer my question. What is all this? And why would it kill my mother?”

  Frank still had that small smile as he stepped forward, pointing out a large piece of paper. On the paper was a small description of a cadaverous man. Dark shadows were cast behind him even as he grasped, what appeared to be, the spinal column of an unfortunate soul. “It all started with this. Azeron the Defiler. A mage that was considered, before his fall, to be among the greatest of archmages and a formidable Great Power. It was thought, for the longest time, that he had only a single affinity; that of granite.” Frank followed a piece of rope to another picture, depicting a city burning. “It turns out that he had a second affinity. An affinity over plaques.” Alden looked closer and saw that the waters around the cities were a putrid green, dead rotted bodies floating atop it. “He found the original city of Tunk. The Khansulate had retracted its forces for the winter, and so the council thought themselves safe. After all, they were isolated. Insulated. Protected, from any who would wish them harm.” Frank laughed, a dark, bitter sound.

  “So Azeron decided he wished to experiment with his forbidden power and launched his putrid spells against the city. He ravaged the city for 40 days and nights, letting none sleep or rest. In the end the city fell, only a small remnant escaping.” Another rope line, this one leading to a splotched paper of papyrus with a small note underneath it. The note denoted it as a private journal entry. “Their journey was a harsh one. The Khansulate would not learn the fate of Tunk until the winter melts, but Azeron was not so limited. He pursued them and slowly picked them off, one by one-torturing them in the name of his own advancement. It wasn’t until a small strike force from the Olm’an’il rid the world of his vileness that the remnants could move on.”

  Another rope, depicting a picture of a city that looked very similar to the one Alden resided in now. “So, the people of Tunk created a fortress city under the earth. They called it Tunk’lan so they would never forget the horrors that their people had experienced.” Frank came to a stop, staring at the final picture for a long moment. Alden stared at the picture for a moment, before slowly turning to Frank. “That seems like an… interesting story. What did my mother think of it?” Frank chuckled. “She thought much of it. For you see, it was my own mother who experienced some of those horrors. Your mother’s grandmother. I don’t know if it was the impetus of her path, but it was important to her. Important enough for her to keep an image of it here.” Frank paused as his eyes kept studying the picture- before turning to Alden. “It was a story demonstrating the evil of those who call themselves Great, from one of the last peoples who had dared to defy the many.” Alden’s mind whirled; begored a horrible realization dawned on him. “Wait- you don’t mean that-“ Frank cut him off. “Your mother wished to bring down the Great Powers. And she got close enough that they killed her for it.” Alden was back to staring at him. Then he shook his head and began to pace, as well as he could, around the room.

  “That still doesn’t make sense. I know, better than most I would wager, the vulnerabilities of Great Powers. But there has never been a viable threat to their power. Yes, you could expose their weakness. But that would just generate harsher extremes of what we would already have. Individuals of great power would always rule in some form or fashion, no matter what society you have.” Frank smiled. “All but one.” Alden cut his hand angrily in the air. “What do you mean all but one!? Every society needs a Great Power. They need them to provide, to protect, hell even to guide them. What society could possibly-” Alden froze. He slowly turned to face Frank. “You’re talking about mortals. About Aether deserts.” Frank smiled crookedly at him.

  “Indeed. They are the only peoples’ who have no need for great powers. They still have a flawed system; of that I have no doubt. But it is a system that allows for progress, for forward motion. We are doomed to always be dragged back to where we are now.” Alden ran his hands through his air. “So, she was going to convince people to go to Aether deserts? Maybe create some Aether deserts? Kill all the mages? What did she find, what did she do, that was so terrifying she needed to be killed?” Frank sighed. “You still don’t see it. I don’t blame you; I didn’t see it either.”

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

  Frank turned and grabbed something from the floor. He lifted it up. It was a long, smooth piece of wood. The back was molded so that it would fit comfortably into the socket of his shoulder, with a small metal rod attached atop it. Frank tossed it to Alden, his hands lancing out to grab it. Alden stared at it for a moment. He glanced back up at Frank with a raised eyebrow. Frank smiled at him, a faint moistness in his eyes. “What you hold in your hands is a device that the mortals in the Starving Plains invented. It is a weapon of war, used in their interclan rivalries. It's called a musket. Have you ever heard of it?” Alden shook his head as he flipped it over in his hands.

  Frank continued, that same smile on his face. “It is a weapon that is both mad and brilliant. They stick an explosive that they call gunpowder down that metal tube- called a barrel- all the way to the end. They then stick in a lead ball. You pull a small assembly, called a trigger, that causes a hammer to hit a metal plate and spark. The spark ignites the gunpowder and shoots the ball out with tremendous force.” He stroked his beard. “At least, I think that how it works. Whatever the case it can shoot a ball out at speeds that can match lower quality enchantments.” Alden’s eyes snapped upwards to Frank before falling back down at the conundrum of a device in his hands.

  “Impressive, but hardly earth-shattering. You said it yourself; it can match lower quality enchantments. Any kingdom worth their salt would be able to create much more powerful devices than this pitiful thing.” Frank nodded, even as his arms swept out excitedly. “Of course, of course but look! Look at what they have done! They have created something that can match a mage-produced item. More than that they have developed the means to produce these in vast quantities, so that every warrior of theirs can have one.” Alden’s eyes widened. “Wait- so that means-“ “Yes! They will be able to exceed the number of crossbows a mage force has. A resonance cascade is always a worry, always something to take into consideration. But imagine, a force of mages equipped with these muskets. They would have the power of a magical crossbow without limiting any other items! And imagine if you had an entire army equipped with such things, how many more artifacts you could bring! At that point would It not be possible to destroy a great power? More than that would it not be possible to protect yourself from a great power!” Frank’s voice was starting to boom out as he spoke.

  “And this is only one such device! There are dozens of similar innovations from across the continent. In Salamart Valley there is a device that gives the ability to add and subtract numbers with precision. In Effucia there is a device that uses gears to lift things heavier than should be possible. On their own they are limited, but together?” His voice dropped into a near whisper.

  “Together they could change the world, perhaps even revolutionize society. Imagine a lead mage, enhancing a musket ball even more. Making it faster, tougher, perhaps even making it explosive? What about stone mages working in conjunction with machines to find valuable ores and extract them without dedicating whole excavation teams or valuable artifacts?” Frank stared straight into Alden’s eyes, an internal fire burning within them. “This is why your mother was killed. She was beginning to put together the pieces, see the bigger picture. And if she saw that bigger picture, saw it through? Then Great Powers might not be so needed. Then, perhaps, we can find some sort of way, some sort of path forward.” Alden held his gaze for a moment before looking down at the musket. Slowly he scanned the room again. This time he could pick out at least a dozen machines or weird items that he had no idea of their design or purpose. He suspected what they were now. More examples of what could be accomplished without magic.

  “This is still not enough. I know of what you speak. There have been others in the past who have tried such things. Climbed even higher in fact, reached pinnacles we cannot imagine. They all fell. There are records of kingdoms whose magics were so mighty they could travel the void between the stars with ease. Yet these rumors and stories are not destroyed, are not thrown out, but my mother is? Why?” Frank stared at him a moment longer, before slumping slightly and stepping back. “I suspect you are right. There is much I do not know, much she could not or would not tell me. I don’t know what you will find along this path. But I can at least point you in the right direction.”

  He reached into his pocket and brought out a small scroll. He handed it to Alden who has to resist the urge to immediately unroll it. “In there is the next piece. Your mother gave it to me, said if anything happened to her and I chose to follow her path it was in there.” Frank shrugged. “I’ve looked as long and as subtly as I could. I found nothing. Perhaps you will make progress where I failed.” He began to walk past Alden. He paused at Alden’s shoulder. “I’m going to take out the pastry from the oven. Take as long as you need here. I’ve left torches in a side wall on your right.” Alden just nodded as Frank left, closing the door most of the way. He stared at the room before him, and the piece of papyrus clutched in his hands. “What did you find?” His whisper echoed out into the cool stone. The cool, hollow, stone.