Part III

Today's first story is going to be inspired by Michael Crichton's Eaters of the Dead. If the idea of Ibn Fadlan witnessing the events of Beowulf sounds interesting to you, I'd say pick the book up. It's no Jurassic Park, I will admit, but it has a very intriguing style.

11. Northmen

Ibn Fadlan was an Islamic traveler most noted for his observations of the people we now know as the Vikings- his writings provide a look into their lives, their culture, and notably, their deaths- he provides a description of a Rus viking funeral. However, the tale he writes here is rather hard to believe…

Verily, I have never seen a people quite like the northmen- tall as date palms, blonde and ruddy, their skin covered strange green symbols. You will never find a northman without some form of weapon on his person: a dagger, a sword, a spear, or all of them. From nails to neck they are covered in tattoos, living creatures, trees, or otherwise.

They are the filthiest people God saw fit to create…

…

These people also follow their own heathen rites, worshiping a pantheon of pagan gods. During my stay, one of their chiefs fell dreadfully ill, and they left him to fight the disease alone. In time, their chief succumbed, and they prepared for his funeral.

The preparations for this ritual involved the most vile pagan ceremonies I have ever had the displeasure of laying eyes upon- days of debauchery, of sex and sacrifices to their strange gods…

After the funeral, a band of warriors prepared to depart for their foreign homeland, which would have been no issue- if they hadn't insisted on bringing me along with them. A soothsayer among their number had encouraged them and insisted that a 13th traveler was needed, and I was pressed into a terrible voyage. I pray that the Most Compassionate will guide me to my homeland's shores once more…

...

The banks of this river we sail, while shrouded in fog, still hold a sort of terrible promise. Strange, hoary figures, as pale as the fog they tread through, staring with doleful eyes. By night, I can see fires in those dense woods, although my companions have warned me, in hushed tones, not to approach them. Seeing the size of the figures which sat around them, I cannot help but concede to their judgment in such matters.

In the north, the river we sailed let out onto a strange sea. I must wonder if any man from my homeland has traveled as far as I, seen such odd sights as these, where the sea freezes from the winter cold and where terrible shapes flit through the hanging clouds. I take some reassurance in knowing that for all of the strangeness of these heathen lands, they are still under the watchful eye of the All-Seeing.

My companions are watchful as well, peering into the dark sea with worried expectation- I do not wish to know what terrors would inspire such caution in men such as these. They grip their swords and lances tightly, white grips contrasting ink.

Whatever destination we sail to, I cannot claim to know. Translation is difficult, and I get the sense that they will only tolerate so many questions from me each day.

…

After some sailing, we have made landing near an oddity, even for a land such as this. Upon a great promontory, without so much as a palisade ringing it or ditches for its defense, stood a great wooden hall, tall enough and broad enough to hundreds of feasters- I am told it hosts a mighty lord, Hrothgar, and his retainers, called thanes.

I also inquired into the name of the place. "Herot." The northman flung the word from his mouth as though it was bitter. Hrothgar himself seemed as fair a host as any- even if his court hosted all sorts of soothsayers and druids- and welcome us with much jubilation. It didn't quite cover the trepidation in the air.

I did not sleep easily that night and it seems I was not alone in this respect. Despite the carousing, there was a bitterness in the air. I am most perturbed by what could cause such a dreadful fright.

…

With trembling hands, I write the story of this most terrible of nights, and the terror that stalked this most lamentable of halls, Herot. During the dark of the night, a terror crept into the hall, devoured a man, and was moments away from devouring another. From what little I saw, it had the figure of a man, although I can scarcely imagine such a loathsome creature as he...

I pray that the leader of the host who brought me here, this… Beowulf can strike down this misbegotten creature, whatever it may be. Another, slightly less jovial round of celebration occurred this day as well. Whether to celebrate the memory of those lost, to strengthen Beowulf's resolve, or simply out of some instinct, I cannot say.

Surely, that dreadful prowler will creep into the hall this night as well...

12. Sing the Carmagnole!

The French Revolution had some obvious cultural impacts on European culture. Of course, there was the obvious reactionary backlash that came when the revoltution began, but it was easy to forgot all the nuances behind the revolution- it wasn't some monolithic movement.

There was counterrevolution in France, uprisings in the west against the levee en masse and the subordination of the Church to the revolutionary government. In halls of power even groups like the Jacobins had their issues- the Girondins who urged moderation as the revolution spiralled wildly out of control, and Montagnards who would eventually bring the bloody reign of terror to the streets of Paris.

The question of magic did not have an easy answer, but as a general rule, revolutionaries tended to be more interested in magic than the more conservative sort. Of course, that didn't keep mean that France's old magical nobility was spared from the gentle touch of the guillotine.

Considering the obvious military applications, there was an effort by the French government to "democratize" magic- when they could be found, magical manor houses were looted for their texts, which were copied as quickly as the presses would allow. There was even a brief period when the country's own magical school, Beauxbatons, was under siege (the cannons fired blind and were directed by wizards); however, the head of the school eventually negotiated a peaceful solution in exchange for educating legions of war wizards.

The spirit of revolution that had so thoroughly inflicted certain members of the French population was carefully fomented within the magical portion of the French government, and it was certainly reasonable: while a few noble magical families existed, the Ancien Regime had not been kind to her magic users- the kings and tyrants of the world were afraid of magic's might- they said it was demonic, it was evil- obvious steps to keep the magician from realizing just how wronged they were!

Even as the revolution simmered down and things grew a little less violent, the French magicians kept that vicious edge, growing into the rabid attack dog of the revolution. Magicians truly made terrifying shock troops, and the new curriculum in Beauxbatons focused on teaching magic that was both easy to learn and destructive- they would be lovingly known as the Conscript's Spells.

Compared to the British magical world, the French one was… martial. The average magical community looked more like a military camp than it did someplace like Diagon Alley, the sort of place where people made their homes. However, they could focus on tending to their own house once the rest of Europe was in proper order. In less than generous terms, the French magicians engaged in full scale looting of just about every magical institution they could find.

French ward-breaking became a precise science- honed on what magical chateaus had survived the revolution and put into practice just about everywhere else- the hidden magical communities of Andalusia, the great mountain strongholds of the Alpine magicians, and all those mages across the Rhine.

They also played to their strengths- appeal to muggleborns who had been alienated for their entire lives, give them a community where they were appreciated and treated like equals instead of second class citizens. This meant a near constant flow of enthusiastic, sometimes downright radical magicians; although these magicians were more loyal to the idea of Republicanism than France herself, and especially not that new Caesar, Napoleon.

It was never conclusively proven that any French magicians were actually involved in attempts on the Emperor's life, but it was a fairly logical conclusion to make. They were a nearly constant counter to the Emperor- they disagreed with his policy, his flagrant nepotism in giving his family and relations titles, and they despised him for usurping the revolution, but none wanted to predict what might happen if France lost his genius.

So, they got to work- the most obvious thing to do if they wanted to save the Republic, at least in the long term, involved hitting the Emperor with an infertility spell (they never said it was glamorous). That meant an appropriate heir to the throne never appeared, and the magicians worked carefully to assure a smooth transfer back to republicanism once the Emperor had fulfilled his purpose.

None were quite foolish enough to use obvious mind control magic on him (they were self aware enough to realize none of them could really match the man's capacity for tactics) but they used subtler magical arts, dazzling his mind just enough for him to carry on commanding in the field while his will (the actual legal article) was adjusted by magic.

At Leipzig, the forces of the coalition were beaten back by magical forces, who would in time earn respect rivaled only by Napoleon's Old Guard. Their influence only continued to grow, and in time they went from proud supporters of the government to kingmakers- or rather, president makers- who… urged the government to act in the way they wanted.

The French magicians always had a strange fascination with the symbol of the ouroboros, the snake devouring its own tail. It was an alchemical symbol, usually representing infinity, but to the French magicians they found fascination in the idea of constantly devouring yourself and emerging anew. That strange sort of immortality would become the cornerstone of their approach to governance: they would never be satisfied with growing old and reactionary, but would constantly reinvent themselves, staying modern throughout the ages.

Communism and socialism, those political boogiemen- were they not the next step of the revolution? They encouraged unions when they began to form, and in a radical break from how magicians usually operated, they actively encouraged the magical population to grow. Some saw it as their final barrier to conquer: magic was a thing that divided people, but it was more of a divisor than wealth or land ownership. It was quite possibly the great inequalizer, and they wanted every man (or woman) to have that ability, if possible.

Wizard-muggle (if that term could even be used anymore, considering how open the French magicians were about their magic) marriages were encouraged. Squibs probably meant that magic would never be truly universal, but they were certainly going to try.

13. The Court Magician

The role of court magician was an important one- without it, any kingdom or court be destroyed from within by a single irate wizard. This tended to lead towards a fairly tolerant policy- irritating even a petty hedge wizard could prove fatal if you didn't have a magician of your own at court. Of course, there were some inherent issues in placing that much power in a single individual, so a wise and sufficiently wealthy ruler would try to hire several mages who could be played off each other, so neither grew too powerful.

Very little is known about the most famed court magician, the one who barely had a name at all after they grew so skilled at memory magics as to completely remove themselves from the memory of every person at the court. From there, they used magic to take control of everyone of even moderate importance, puppets who themselves were puppetmasters of their entire realm.

Whatever rare reagents the magician needed were acquired as part of the royal household's expenses- it's not as if the King really needed anything more than bread and water, right?- and with the power of the state and its army on its side, even the most stubborn of magical rivals were eventually forced to fold. Witch hunts were sped up with help from an actual magician, after all.

Armies marched to the court magician's terrible tempo, their arms and wills strengthened by the power of magic. Foes would flee from the field when they sent their lances throat the breasts of the magician's soldiers, only for the men to keep on marching, serene smiles on their face even as terrified knights drew swords and hacked away. With a sort of terrible glee, brainwashed soldiers charged into flashing hooves and heavy armor.

The magician had a quiet wedding to a noble's daughter- no foreign dynasty was quite crazy enough to send one of their daughters into the maws of the court magician's dread demense. This was insurance, of course, considering that the Magician certainly wasn't feeling generous enough to share the products of their alchemical experiments to with their old boss.

Records about the state grow less accurate at this point, when the magician started to close down the border, tightening his grasp about what came in and what came out of the state. He began to jealously defend his administrators, dissuading any desertion.

After this? We have no clue what goes on in that most miserable of states.

14. The Lords of Bermuda

The Bermuda Triangle was quite the dangerous place. It was the centerpiece of much muggle conspiracy, and was quite the magical destination as well. The American Magicians hated the magical lords of the Bermuda Triangle for all the work they made for them, and the feeling was mutual, although for different reasons. The Lords tended to look down at the Americans for lowering themselves enough to even consider sharing land with the non-magical sort.

There was perhaps no magical society as cruel, although they would argue this was a simple matter of reassuring their society's strength than anything else. Squibs of any sort were a sign of degradation, after all, a failure of both infant and parent. You could, in theory, have children after giving birth to a Squib, but you would be under the very watchful eye of the authorities- to make sure your blood wasn't failing, of course.

What happened to the children… well, the kinder parents made quiet deals with the Americans to handle such children, but those more in line with the Lords… Perhaps certain stories are best not told, at least in polite company.

Muggle shipping through the region was basically crippled, and any muggle settlements on the isle of Bermuda had long since been starved, leaving the region as the domain of a few particularly powerful magical lords who had fled from Britain to create what they saw as an ideal society for their kind.

They were surprisingly open to immigrants- if they could prove themselves as being of proper magical stock. The first few years, when they unaware of the dangers of intermarriage… were bad. But those years had long since passed, their population boosted by powerful magicians from the outside… not all of whom came voluntarily, unfortunately.

Descriptions of their society were bizarre- great shimmering castles on the frothy foam, layered like cakes, glowing with thousands of magical lights… They were something that seemed fit for a children's book, although the glamorous outsides hid a disgusting core. Sometimes, they would gather for great festivals, hundreds of brilliant towers, shimmering like gemstones, connecting by thousands of gossamer threads, strange magical song echoing over the waves.

It goes without saying that any muggle who saw such a sight did not leave alive.

…

…

No one was entirely sure why the United States government requested permission from Britain (who still considered themselves rulers of Bermuda) to do a nuclear weapons test off of Bermuda. There was a bit of protesting, of course, worry about where exactly the radiation would end up… but it was certainly remote and uninhabited enough, right?

American magicians considered it a good riddance.

15. Old Man River

The stories about him conflicted, but there was always one thread that united them all- that great thread of water which split the United States of American into pieces. The Mississippi. It was an artery through which commerce flowed, so of course people followed the money- and when you had people in quantity, inevitably, you had magicians.

That was the conclusion people typical drew about him, anyways. Almost always, the stories about him involved feats that just wouldn't be possible without its use. The stories about where that power came from varied: some folks said that he brought old magic, African magic, with him when he crossed the Atlantic. Some said he was the bastard child of some American magician. Some people- no points for guessing- said it was a deal with the devil.

Whatever the case, you would eventually find him somewhere along the length of the Mississippi- typically, more sightings of him happened near the cities. Whether that was his choice, or just the fact that there were more eyes to see him was also unknown. Put simply, the times didn't add up- he'd be deftly guiding his boat between the boats of New Orleans one day, and would be loading his boat with grain at Little Egypt the next.

Sometimes, if you were lucky, you might be able to catch a ride, to see the boat go through strange places, where the river froze to the ship's sides and where shadows danced in the air. Terrifying, certainly, but compared the daily terrors of slavery… well, Old Man River was more than happy to give any lucky escapee a trip to the north, near the Great Lakes.

When the War Between the States began, Old Man River was a steadfast ally to the Union, of course. Some say he ferried General Grant across the Mississippi personally, during the Siege of Vicksburg.

The sight of a humble man on a old-fashioned barge next to ferocious Union ironclads and monitors was definitely a contrast, if nothing else. Somehow, he was never sunk… and most men agreed the Rebs weren't just firing at the ironclads.

16. Artifice

There were some things about magic that didn't necessarily require a magical user. Certain potions could be useful for muggles, and with some adjustments there were certain runes that could be used by muggles. Still, you needed some magical work to get those little operations started, and magicians typically figured they had better things to do with their time than providing for the whims of random muggles.

But of course, there was one thing that could overwhelm a wizard's independent streak: money. Money for their experiments, or simply to spend on whatever vices they favored… and as muggle mercantile efforts made them very rich, wizards- especially muggleborns- suddenly had very good reason to cooperate with the muggles. This killed the Statute of Secrecy in its cradle, of course- there was too much money to be made to go hiding everything now, after all.

A sufficiently skilled wizard could typically eke out a living for themselves with magic. But what was barely living compared to luxury with all the riches of far Araby and the Indies?

To put it simply, there were significant incentives for enterprising magicians to help out muggles. Of course, the less work you had to do fixing and maintaining the magic, the better. The holy grail of such research was simple: magic tamed. The wild beast which crawled beneath their skins brought to heel, bent beneath artifice and made available to all. Magicians had tamed magic… artifice would domesticate it.

This, perhaps, led to some decay in some areas of muggle technology. Or perhaps it would be better to say that they never progressed enough to decay in the first place- what good was telecommunications when magic carried your words instantly? Why invest into passenger ships or planes when a fireplace was all you needed, if that?

Advances due to artifice are too numerous to list. In fields of medicine, potions were downright miraculous, as were the famous self-knitting stitches. Engineers marveled at engines that would never need to be refueled, machines that would clean or sharpen themselves, and unbelievably low friction bearings. Costs for transporting goods plummeted through the floor.

If a magician didn't think too highly of themselves, there was money to be made- and perhaps, for the more idealistic, a better world.

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