No one at the table looked more surprised than Bastijn at the click of the case opening. Kaldalis took that for a sign that luck was finally breaking his way. If Bastijn looked shocked at his success, it was likely that he had just been fucking around and hadn’t expected to complete the puzzle yet.

Nonetheless, it was obvious that the color pattern had done its job in making the solution possible.

As Bastijn’s shocked look turned to smugness, he turned the hexagonal case over in his hands.

The effect of the colors was kind of pretty.

On one side, the tiles went from dark red at the top through to medium orange at the bottom, and then on the next side, it went from a slightly lighter orange at the bottom to a vibrant yellow at the top. And then from yellow to green, and green to blue, and blue to purple, and on the final side it went from purple to red again, snaking back to the red to orange side again.

The top of the tube had popped open slightly, just a half-inch of separation from the end to the body of the case. More than enough to squeeze a fingernail or a blade under it to pop it open and find what was inside.

Kaldalis’s quest pinged, the objective rolling over, not to completion, but to the next objective.

Lataxinigma

Solve the Mystery Within.

“I told you I could fuckin’ do it,” Bastijn crowed as he slid the case across the table back to Kaldalis. “I bet you feel like a right ass now, huh?”

“Why?” Kaldalis asked as he picked up the case, taking a moment to carefully pry the lid free.

“Because you fuckin’ thought I couldn’t!” Bastijn shot back.

“No, I thought you could do it,” Kaldalis said as the lid popped off. It was attached to the interior of the case with a fine chain, which Kaldalis was grateful for when the lid almost went flying across the bar, with the chain stopping it from being lost. “If I didn’t think you could, I would have done it myself.”

Bastijn sputtered for a moment, at a loss for words.

This unexpected response was enough to send Heluna and her friends into hysterics.

That suited Kaldalis just fine. It meant he could carefully examine the case’s contents.

Inside seemed to contain a rolled-up scroll of some sort. When Kaldalis touched it he was afraid that it would crumble, but it was surprisingly sturdy. As he started to tease it out of the case, it proved to be laminated in some unknown waxy substance, which meant that the document was perfectly preserved.

While Kaldalis had become unsure of the case’s origins when he’d discovered the symbols on the outside weren’t Lataxinan writing, he knew exactly what he was looking at now. The document was covered from top to bottom with scratchy writing Kaldalis knew could only be Lataxinan. Not only was the writing the familiar otter-scratch markings he had seen in ruins, but it was accompanied by some small diagrams, including graphs and formulae.

On the other side were actual drawings of Lataxinans, not as one of their little comics, but as figure drawings. Beside them was an irregular figure-eight, with circles and arrows connected to otter-scratch writing that appeared to be descriptive text.

Kaldalis couldn’t read the text, but some of the graphs and formulae looked familiar, and the symbols next to them were regular. Given time, he got the impression that he could have matched the symbols to the graphs, and translated Lataxinan mathematical notation. For the first time in his life, he felt like he’d found a real-world application for his college-level math courses.

“I know what this is,” Kaldalis said suddenly, struck by a profound sense of the enormity of what he was holding.

“It’s a fuckin’ message in a bottle,” one of Heluna’s friends said. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s more than that,” Kaldalis said. He pointed to the formulae, and then the figure drawings. “This is the Lataxinan’s Voyager Disc.”

Kaldalis remembered when he was still Dylan, learning about the Voyager 2 Mission. He was a teenager when it had left the solar system, and he remembered going online and finding the contents of the disc it had carried.

This was the Lataxinan version of it.

They had loaded this capsule with a message for the future inhabitants of this world, including basic mathematical concepts that could be used as a rosetta stone to decode the message.

“A what?” Bastijn asked.

“Nevermind,” Kaldalis said. He didn’t know if he could explain to a bunch of half-drunk sailors the emotions a teenage version of himself felt while listening to a low-quality recording of El Cascabel and feeling infinitely small and infinitely hopeful at the same time. “What’s important is getting this translated. Whatever the Lataxinans put in here, it would have been the most important message we could ever find.”

“What makes it so fuckin’ important?” Heluna asked, even as she was standing up. “You’ve pulled two dozen fuckin’ books out of the dungeon. Why is this one more important?”

“Those books were Lataxinans writing to other Lataxinans,” Kaldalis said. He rolled the message back up and tucked it into the case - he couldn’t stand the idea of it being damaged before it could be translated. “This is so much more than that. This Lataxinans writing to us. Not us specifically, but future visitors to these islands, who may not have their science and technology. This could contain the key to all their knowledge.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” one of the others cut in as Kaldalis stood up to join Heluna. “Could this stop that fuckin’ Contender from fucking with us?”

Kaldalis paused. He hadn’t considered that. If the Lataxinans were trying to guide future people in how to use their abilities, it might be exactly the information that might bring the Contender’s investigation to a close.

Of course, there was no telling if it would end in their favor..

“All the more reason to get this translated quickly,” Kaldalis said. “Though I think maybe we should keep this quiet until we know which way the wind is blowing. If this is the proof the Contender needs that we’re all heretical sorcerers or whatever, maybe we don’t want him coming in the door behind me and getting the translation until we know for sure.”

***

Heluna followed after Kaldalis as he left the bar and made for the research center, though her friends were happy to continue their drinking. Kaldalis wasn’t sure what to expect from unraveling this mystery. But he had high hopes.

Since his last visit, the research center had been massively expanded. Instead of a small building filled with books, it was a much larger facility now, presumably to make room for more resources and workspace, expanding the operation. Kaldalis expected that the change was in no small part due to Garyung’s absence. While the Bhogad had been off on their adventure in Baimer, Ikzoz had likely been the de facto leader. As the head of the research arm of the expedition, he had likely funneled some priority towards the research team.

There was even a reception desk, and the suyon woman there was able to accept the research notes he’d been gifted from Courbois. But for the translation, he was directed to the back room on the second floor.

“Sticking with me all the way through, huh?” Kaldalis asked Heluna as they made their way up the stairs.

“The last time we parted ways, you got fuckin’ kidnapped,” Heluna said with a smirk. “I’m not letting your ass out of my sight if I can help it. Not that I mind the task.”

Kaldalis wanted to come back with an intimate suggestion about finding a private spot behind some shelves, but he figured that walking through the door mid-flirt might not be the best way to greet whatever scholar was overseeing translations right now.

He felt like his guess was correct when he found a very serious-looking elderly Vathon pouring over scrolls that had obviously come from the dungeons. They were lighter-skinned, nearly periwinkle blue, wearing a pair of thin-rimmed bifocals and holding an old-timey quill pen. He looked like a Ben Franklin cosplayer, if Ben Franklin had been a blue man with horns.

“Uh,” Kaldalis said, “hello? I was hoping to get some help.”

“Hm?” The old Vathon looked up, peering curiously at Kaldalis and Heluna. “Yes? This is Translations. Are you looking for Translations?”

“Perfect,” Kaldalis said with a smile. He took a moment to fish the wax-laminated scroll back out of the case. “I have something here. Something very important. I need to know what this says as soon as possible.”

“Sure thing, kid,” the old man said, suddenly frowning at the pile of ancient documents in front of him. He took a moment to clear a space for the new document to be placed before him. “It’s not like these old scrolls are going anywhere.”

Kaldalis handed over the scroll, and the old Vathon’s expression of polite interest turned instantly into laser-focused attention on the document.

“This is…” he began, but trailed off. Before he could finish the sentence, his hands were working, seemingly of their own accord. A clean piece of paper was produced - presumably from his inventory - and he started to furiously scribble across it with his quill.

The old man’s work was incredible. His transcription of the diagrams and graphs was immaculate, and all of the translation work seemed to be coming from memory. It was all accompanied by the notation, descriptions, and the text, now in plain and readable language. Kaldalis couldn’t help himself, and stepped around the table to lean over and read the words as they were being translated.

What he learned was not what he expected.

It was even better.

The Lataxinans were alive.