Chapter Two

Disclaimer: See the Disclaimer in Chapter One. Recursion is cool.

Warnings:

Contemporary war imagery, insanity and fascism (If there's a difference).

Are you a Tinker? Tailor? Soldier? Spy?…

Yes you are a Taylor.

How does one understand the Fabric?

We start small. And so do you!

You make a start. It's enough.

Oh my! Now it gets tough!

But if you know how it moves.

Then we can prove.

That the Fabric.

Was just thread all along.

-Eldon, The Journal of Paleomathematics: Earth, volume 500,353. Published on Eldar in the Time of the Selmica.

Chapter two (1.5,2). 40 AI 12/366.23... . Übermensch occupied France, the Paris Line.

General Weasley is an old man, still alive in the fortieth year of Voldemort's Empire; 40 Anno Imperii. Old men do not belong in a trench. The sides leaked, and all the bread was mouldy; life as usual on the Paris Front. The smell of body odor and decaying flesh was potent.

Voldemort's forces had made great advances in recent days, his Lord's Necroconstructs were being slowly beaten back by the Deatheater Starforts: they'd have to send more Lodestoners into the flying fortresses; suicide bombers always made the Deatheaters go mad.

Ron kept his nose out of politics, he wanted a quiet life, and he wore the Magi-star brand with no pride. He always did his duty, even when he was told to do unspeakable evil. Heil Übermensch indeed…

In another life, Ron would have a loving wife and many children. Both are impossible for a general of the Magi-star Liberation Army.

Ron slowly got to his feet, ducking below the trenchline to avoid any AK-snipers looking to snag a promotion. He kept his head low until he reached the Bastion, if he remembered the old film reels, it was where something called an Affle tower used to reside.

Once inside the Bastion, he stood. He received a few salutes: "Heil Général d'armée!", his face remained stoic. His reputation on the Russian Front preceded him. He apparated to the Überreich in Rome. He had some big news that the Übermensch would need to hear.

Chapter Two. (2,2), -20 AI, 305/366.23…, Dawn. Flammel's office.

Perhaps… Nicolas was interrupted from his early morning musings by a dull thumping at the bottom of his door. His morning was about to get more interesting! He flicked his fingers, and a figure in a dark hooded cloak fell through the opened door, badly burnt, almost charred. How interesting! Maybe he could experiment with his new ointment? He remained sitting, why waste a perfectly good morning on a wastrel? He returned to his papers, his wife would sort it out.

Some time passed, the sun rose in the sky by a thumbslength. The cloaked man moaned. He glanced up, this one would be a bother… "Young man?" Nicolas' voice croaked, he hadn't talked in… ... he didn't remember, must be on a piece of paper! The prone figure shifted. Oh that is interesting, thought Flamel; he only has one limb! He was bleeding onto the carpet, very interesting patterns! He seemed to have cauterised his stumps, very clever!

"Nicolas… You have to help me..." The figure on the floor ground out, he was missing most of his teeth, and most of his face. He coughed up some coagulated blood onto Nicolas' threadbare carpet.

Nicolas cleared his throat "Who're you?" Nicolas asked, confused. "Are you that Albin chap? He likes to make potions, something about the seventeen uses of dragon's blood or something, I think th-" He was cut off by "-Nicolas..." Tom ground out harshly.

Chapter Two. (4+i,2), -20 AI, 305/366.23…, Dawn. Flammel's office.

Perhaps… Nicolas was interrupted from his early morning musings by a dull thumping at the bottom of his door. His morning was about to get more interesting! He flicked his fingers, the door opened; he saw a dead pigeon on the floor. Nicolas' face fell. It was Speckle Jim! Awful things always happened after Halloween. He went back to his papers, and blew a few smoke rings with his pipe.

Chapter Two. (4,2), -20 AI, 305/366.23…, Dawn. Flammel's office.

Perhaps… Nicolas was interrupted from his early morning musings by a dull thumping at the bottom of his chamber door. His morning was about to get more interesting! He flicked his fingers, the door opened; he saw a dead white speckled pigeon on the threshold. Nicolas' face-

Then he had a funny feeling go up his spine; the same one he felt a few times a century, and his pipe fell out of his grip clattering to the stone floor. He sat up very quickly, the cobwebs connecting his beard to the desk elongated and his knees protested at the mistreatment. How long had be been sitting there? Something was very very wrong with Mother Time.

Time is very interesting you see, there are many strands, only the very old and wise wizards like himself could interpret the flows, it was so interesting he even wrote a few pap- Something red appeared in the corner of his eye. He halted his musings, and glanced at a red draw that had appeared on the left side of his desk. He vaguely knew what that meant: stop thinking about it, and maybe open the draw?

Chapter Two, (0,2). Trinity.

The Eye surveyed the slaves, productivity was up; the Eye went back to watching an errant air current in one of the Furnaces, she fixed it. Boring.

God saw the bigger ones hammering away with their True Iron tools at a bolt on the 'gates, it was good. It went on to calculate how many more hammer blows would be needed to affix the bolt without detonation, and the rate of decay of the True Iron deposits below the Titan World. It was good.

The Dhark felt a slight flicker of annoyance. A small creature descended from "rats" residing on a small blue-green planet had disturbed the Fabric. The "rats" would be dealt with. He glanced at a complete Warpgate, and imagined maline things.

Chapter Two, (?,2), -1 AI 314/366.23. pre-Terran Space, above earth.

In orbit around a small blue-green planet there is an oblong shiny object. The occupants of the planet would use the word "sword" to describe it. Perhaps they would get closer to the truth of this object if they were not so hung up on symbols to describe their thoughts? The edge of the "blade" is rainbow coloured: the edge is so sharp it causes light to split and diffract. One of the very odd things about this object is that it is not made out of True Iron.

A fleck of paint leftover from an old attempt at getting former apes into space slammed into the blade; and changed the fate of galaxy forever.

NB: So we've learnt more about the crazy Cartesian system; I suggest looking up complex numbers if you're interested. And if you're feeling as nutty as me, imaginary time. More has been revealed of the weird world I created in my head.

My (rhetorical) question to the reader: why does that weird 366.23 figure keep popping up? I'm sure I wrote it down somewhere!