o_O_o
"So, we need to figure out a way to relieve the spirits' burden and bottle mana for easy distribution and use. We hoisted the world's crisis onto them way too fast, so you can see the strain clearly in the focus groups everywhere but Hypionia, Yurzorea, and Weccea, all of which have a low population density."
"This is a pretty tall order, considering we've just barely started working on streetlights. And the barriers are nothing short of miracles because you begged those Entelexeia to support them."
"Spirits. Great Spirits. Entelexeia or apatheia that underwent conversion and retained some sort of identity, or even had enough of a mind to create new ones for themselves, are now called Great Spirits. The rest, the flecks of light you see? Those are lesser spirits. At least that's how Estelle sees it. And I'm kinda inclined to agree."
"You're pretty sweet on her when it comes to Her Highness's opinion. She's not even an established scholar."
"Who asked you?!"
"Ahh, beg your pardon for making a simple observation."
"You wanna take this outside!"
"With pleasure."
"Hey, you two! Don't start with that again."
Rita Mordio was used to confined spaces, where her favorite companions were blastia and books, for their silent conversations rarely dredged up conflict— notwithstanding when she found the occasional, controversial author. Nowadays her company was devoted to somewhat more than what she wanted to handle on a regular basis. Scholars from Aspio lent effort to what many would affectionately call the Dawn of Conversion, more or less spearheaded by the begrudgingly reluctant Rita herself. Unfortunately, conflict was bread and butter amongst her nominal colleagues, some who still maintained some rather ageist perceptions against her. Occupational jabs she could shrug off, being the 'genius mage' that she was. 'Genius mage,' a nickname she couldn't help but grimace at for how often a certain someone popped the annoying earworm into her head. She cursed him whenever the feeling struck. But, impressionable teenage be damned, she had to admit that it had an okay ring to it. But only okay.
In any case, beyond the scope of a scholar, the young mage found herself a little more sensitive to the commentary of others now than before, especially on her relationship with Estelle.
But for the moment, Rita tasked herself with fussing over used blastia shells made of glass and copper hooked by coils to an intricate machine nearby. Witcher, her unwanted yet useful aid in matters, labored over the molding of delicate filaments to fit into the blastia shells. Her current idea played off her invention used to power streetlights, and she fiddled with formulae for the containers, hoping to securely seal the mana for preservation and travel.
"Hand me those scrolls one more time," Rita barked. "We need to go over these schematics. So! These are the barriers that we negotiated with the spirits to run, until I can find a more commercial way to harvest and store their mana and ease the spirits' burden. This ties into our current project. Controller formulae are easy to devise and deliver, but the technology used to separate mana, store it, and convert it into usable energy is another story. We've only just started and we can't half-ass this stuff, y'know! We can't have another Adephagos falling out of the sky."
"Stop yelling, we're right here," Witcher grumbled while adjusting his glasses. "At least the field data from Zaphias and Dahngrest look good. Nordopolica's in the red and Mantaic and Aurnion data is currently inconclusive, but there's a hint of promise, at least."
"If we can tweak these containers good enough for the test runs next week, maybe we can finally move on to bigger things."
Around her a couple of mages milled about, slaving against blackboards decorated with countless equations and formulae.
"If only Thelonious hadn't run off," the girl complained. "He had some of my best blastia with him, leaving me stuck with a bunch of retired shells. The bastard... I'll torch him the next time I see him."
Rita stomped across the room to a large calendar on the wall, then jabbed a finger at one space and traced it left to another. She huffed and tapped her foot. It'd been a good week since Thelonious disappeared with neither hide nor hair left as to his whereabouts. The scholar wasn't known for his flakiness but he wasn't exactly the pinnacle of order and overachievement either. It was as if he simply vanished. But the girl refused to believe that could've been the true and final case.
"Are the guilds and the empire just sitting on their asses?" she muttered.
The mage locked eyes with another engagement marked on her calendar. She gave it her usual grimace and turned away.
The old man was due for a checkup.
And he never made it easy for her. She could have even called it torture after a fashion.
"Hey, do you know if any of the couriers are in right now? I'm gonna need a few letters sent out."
Witcher glanced up from his work and sighed, adjusting his glasses yet again. "I should think we have a few sylph jays free."
"Good enough. Round them up."
"Raven, I appreciate your newfound dedication, but don't you actually live at the Crimson Star?"
"Uh, it, it's bein' fumigated."
"Hasn't it been a couple weeks? What about your, um… cell?"
"I'm lettin' that air out fer a few days, too. Besides, isn't my presence needed?"
"Yes, but... I'm sure there're more comfortable places to shack up than here in Grandpa's office."
"Somebody's gotta use it."
Raven tossed and turned on the settee while Harry sat at the Don's desk, reviewing folios piled upon folios. The boy looked worse for the wear, a mix of distress and disinterest. The guilds were continually up in arms over the disappearances of several members, sowing seeds of discord that only served to hinder Altosk further. They knew it, too. Still, they carried on. So it was up to 'Acting' Don Harry to try to make heads of tails. But the boy was still just a boy. Even after years of watching his grandfather operate with a kind but iron fist, he had yet to adopt the same sort of bearing.
"So, have you any leads, Raven?" Harry asked. "These requests the guys filled out are mostly gibberish. I think even Grandpa would've had a hard time with this."
"Karol an' Yuri're currently running the gauntlet at the Knights station in Heliord," Raven offered. "There's been talk o' missing persons there, too."
"What about you?"
At that point, he looked up at the ceiling and locked his hands behind his head. Of course he'd been thinking of ways to help out with the situation, and no one could say that he hadn't lifted a finger at all thus far, but... Cowardice was getting the better of him. Raven could feel Harry's eyes searching him, yet still he neglected to answer right away.
"Well... I've got an inklin' or two. But uhh, nothin' I wanna vocally confirm just yet, y'see."
"Right." Harry sighed and pushed his mess of papers to the far side of the desk. "Well, I've got some… other business to see to. You know where to find me if anything comes up."
"Don't push yourself too hard, kid," Raven voiced, just as the boy slunk from the desk to the threshold. He gestured sincerely with one hand then confessed, "Ya still got big shoes to fill, sure, but ya got heart. In the end, that's all that matters. Whether it's for the guilds or not."
"I'm trying."
With Harry gone, Raven was once again left alone to his thoughts. He sat up slowly, tucking his hands between his knees. The murmur of the Sagittarian patrons hushed for a moment then swelled back to a boisterous tone. He wondered if he should join them for some much needed camaraderie but dread continued to bear down on him like a lead curtain. The man just couldn't will his body the way he wanted. Not with that thing out there, and not with the strangest of feelings knotted and nestled in the back of his throat for the long haul. Lump after lump of guilt, disgust and something else he couldn't quite distinguish.
"Dammit."
Yet another grasp at nothing made Raven's heart momentarily sink. How long had it been since his dagger was lost? One month? Two? Yet, it only seemed like yesterday, a dogged day with both a will and a vendetta to persevere. Or so he'd like to think. With that incident, a string of disappearances seemed to follow. Or had they always happened, and people were finally beginning to notice on a larger scale? One could never truly say.
"I guess I should really go make myself useful," Raven told himself. His hand absentmindedly reached into one of his coat sleeves and withdrew from it a small metal flask. He popped its cap, pressed it to his lips and took a light swig before stowing it back in its place. With a great sigh, he heaved himself up from the settee and lurched towards the door. Raven fought back making a beeline for the waitress making her rounds with a handful of frothing mugs and instead stepped outside into Dahngrest's tepid, dusky air.
"Whoa!"
A round, grayish-yellow bird made an instant nest of Raven's head. He danced a little before taking the roosting creature out of his hair.
"C-Canary, little buddy," he gasped. "Gosh, is it that time of the month already?"
Gripping the sylph jay gently, Raven darted his way through town to one of the bridges overarching the moat. There, he discreetly showered the bird in pets and ruffles. This was one of the few good things to come out of his appointments with Rita, making friends with a courier bird. It was a slightly pudgy thing with an errant feather coming out of the top of its head, unlike other sylph jays he'd seen.
Was it chance that his routine checkup would whisk him away from here right when tension continued to mount? Serendipity seemed more fitting. What a shame that it'd cut into Altosk's investigations, but all the merrier that Raven could run away someplace a bit more hospitable, in spite of having to deal with Rita's demeanor in the meantime. With that in mind, he plucked the message tube from the sylph jay's leg, unraveled the scroll to confirm that it was indeed time to pay the genius mage a visit, and finally stuck it inside one of his many, hidden pockets.
"Well, little buddy, we should go break the news to Harry."
Raven's blue-gray eyes lit up just as he faced the hill on which headquarters sat.
"Y'know what? I think I jus' had a thought. Rita darlin', here I come."
From Sixth: When was the last time I did one of these? A long time, I tell ya hwwwat. This is an attempt to get back into the game. It will be awkward. But I will regain my stride, I shall regain it. I hope. Here's hoping. I guess I'll just constantly keep the Tales wiki open. Either that or pull my xbawks out and fire up the ol Brave Vesperians.
I'll likely be doing lots of stealth editing, too, so that things don't end up too contradictory or whatever in the process; at the very least I can gussy things up with a more seasoned eye, assuming I notice it? Anyways, just bear with me. Here I go~
