"...according to Uiatachian charts the day rotation consists of 18 grisans - the local equivalent of hours, with each grisan being 90 sorbits long and each sorbit being 60 seconds. While this is surprisingly convenient given the circumstances, but calculation of how time passes in comparison to Earth is a pain, although its slightly solved by Madeline's ownership of an astrolabe and offloading the calculation to her followers as 'numerlogical practice'. Though, I feel bad inflicting that on them...

Although, at least there's no time dilation going on between Hristomver and Earth. That would be a nightmare to deal with."

- Personal notes of Roland

Soon, the excitement ended, and King Aigulf called to order. After giving his gratitudes to both the Magister Arcanum and the Outsider, he and his entourage slowly filed out of the rampart. As they did, a few nobles and courtiers stole a glance at the both of them before departing.

As the jubilant atmosphere faded, the Outsider dropped the tight smile that he had been forcing on his face, breathing a sigh of relief, before shooting a glare at Princess Livia - who, for her own reasons, stayed behind.

“Your Highness, in the future, please,” the Outsider bit his lip, trying to avoid saying something offensive, “don’t approach us with a demand to rush things at such short notice.”

“Why not?” the Princess Royal replied, cupping her hands over her waist. “Your performance to the court was stellar, despite the short time, and the device was complete. You do not seem to have any problems with it.”

“Well, look-” the Outsider started forward, but the Magister Arcanum held up a hand, stopping him.

“Your Highness, thank you very much for the praise,” Madeline began, nodding in deference. “But the Mate Outsider here comes from a world whose days are night and nights are days; it is certainly uncomfortable for him to quickly adjust to your Highness’s sudden request. And truth is, it is the same for myself, as making the Spyglass on such short notice involved quite a few hours that I would have used to rest.”

Crossing her arms, the Princess Royal smiled.

“Very well, I understand. In the future, I will attempt to not impose such harsh labours on the both of you.” With a knowing look, she departed, turning away with her hands behind her back.

Watching her retreating back, Roland bit his lip with no small amount of annoyance. When she disappeared into the castle, he made a strangled noise, reaching under his capelet to furiously scratch an itch. “Seriously, she-”

“Not here, Roland” The Magister Arcanum replied, nodding to the side. Roland followed her gaze, which lead to a few of the guards standing around the rampart, performing their ceremonial duties - or merely guarding the place. “The walls have ears.”

Seeing them, Roland - the Outsider’s true name - dropped his hand, hastily trying to seem composed. Tucking away the spyglass in the box he brought, he slipped it away in a pouch under his cloak. “The trolley in the Great Hall-”

“I already had Masaru bring it back to the dungeons,” Madeline said. “Meanwhile, we should make our return as well.”

“...agreed.”

Quickly, the both of them reentered the castle, making a detour away from where the King’s procession had gone, instead heading deeper into the citadel. The halls were mostly empty save few straggling servants were cleaning a dirtied lamp, who quickly turned to bow when they spotted both Madeline and Roland. For his part, Roland made a hasty bow in return, causing the servants to be a little taken aback.

“Do you really bow,” Madeline commented as Roland caught back up with her, “to every single maid or servant that you see in your world?”

“Well, there aren’t that many maids or servants in our world, at least in proportion.” Roland frowned, putting some serious thought into the conversation. “But I guess if you were to refer to our everyday cleaners...I suppose I do try to give them some respect, as they deserve for doing the stuff we are wont to do.”

“Interesting. A man of such high station, and yet you would bow to a servant as much as you would bow to a king?” the Grand Magister asked. “Let us thank Providence that His Magnificence is not within earshot.”

“I’m not a ‘man of high station’,” Roland repeated exasperatedly, “It’s just that learning, education of a noble’s calibre is much more available to the common citizen n my world. But I suppose...well, the people who do have to work as cleaners or other menial tasks aren’t exactly on the same class I am…”

“Then why the courtesy?”

“Like I said, respect for the jobs they do.” A stray thought came to Roland’s mind, causing him to tilt his head to the side. “Well, some of them are older men and women, and my culture asks that we give them respect, out of courtesy. Or...I maybe it’s the concept of ‘human rights’ that we have developed."

“‘Human rights?” The Grand Magister fixed her full attention on Roland, her curiosity full and truly piked now. “Am I hearing this right? Because I don’t think I understand.”

“Um, sorry,” Roland said, struggling with the language a bit. “Sorry, I don’t think that calling it the ‘rights of the Valeri’ works when we have other ‘sapient’ races like Elezen and Sansuignors...I mean, its not an easy thing to translate to Strovian.” He paused. “How should I put it? It is the...idea, the belief that all beings, all sapient beings, are deserving of a fundamental level of respect and treatment.”

“That’s something you never mentioned before when we were talking about Earth…”

“I-I mean…” Roland turned away, feeling guilty at the slightly interrogative stare Madeline was giving him, not helped by the fatigue he felt on his shoulders. “It’s not really my area of expertise, ok? I mean, its technically a fundamental aspect of what we call the ‘cold war’ period, but it’s more of a socio-political one than, well, all the scientific topics we discuss...”

“Oh, I see.” As Roland raised a pair of hands in defeat, Madeline finally relented. “My most sincere of apologies. I sometimes forget your limits, and...that you are rather exhausted. Well, Outsider-”

“Please, Madeline, no need for that.” in an effort to keep stave off sleep, Roland quickly slapped his cheeks a little, taking a deep breath. “We’ve known each other long enough…”

“Mmm, of course. Perhaps…” Roland felt a hand gently pat his shoulder. “..why not rest in the chambers before you head home? If you feel too tired to make the trip, taking a nap here before your departure is possible. I can arrange for the castle’s servants to bring a bed down for your use.”

Roland reddened at the Magister’s touch but did not brush it off. “No offence, Madeline, but I still prefer the comfort of my own bed. But, thanks for your concern.”

“Mmmm.” Madeline withdrew her hand, sounding a little disappointed. “If you so wish.”

“...you aren’t planning to perform vestigures on me when you catch me asleep, right?” Roland asked with some suspicion.”

“Hmm hmm~.” Madeline reappeared in front of Roland, a fist over her mouth to conceal her mirth. “Not me, but I doubt my colleagues back in the Watch-Library wouldn’t pass up the opportunity, unscrupulous as they are…”

“And you are totally different, riiiight,” Even though he was tired, Roland’s tongue still struck out.

“Indeed, my dear Outsider,” Madeline replied, her voice becoming wistful sing-song, “I’m but one of many strange characters of Uiatach.”

==|==

“Come to think of it, isn’t Nictorian glass considered very advanced?”

As the two walked into a side room on the castle’s ground floor, a pair of Uiatachian guards - Magus-Curiassiers, decked in blackened boiled leather and wearing blue robes of office - stood to attention, as Madeline nodded to them.

“Indeed it is, and I’m forever disappointed that Nictorian glass-workers are never to be found in Uiatach. But why the sudden question?”

As Madeline spoke, both she and Roland stepped on a platform in the middle of the room. A circle of ornately carved wood and tempered metal, with the Straskian crest - a pair of horned knights, flanking a diamond-shaped shield with a twelve pointed star - carved on it.

One of the Uiatachian knights held a hand out towards them, a brief glyph - a pentagonal Straskian rune, not Uiatachian - and the platform shuddered, as white light began to glow through its engraved features.

“Well...I was thinking if they have engaged in complex glassmaking for so long, why haven’t they come across a similar concept to optics…aside from the various manuscripts of Kazari Vixus-Meridian that we found.” As the platform began to descend into the ground, Roland wondered out aloud.

“There are many reasons, why men and women would create new tools for themselves, or find new areas of magistry.” Madeline made a small, noncommittal shrug, as they descend under the glow of crystallights embedded into the walls. “There are just as many reasons why they wouldn’t do so. Perhaps they have not found a need, or the conditions are just not ripe. And with how the Empire is...I wouldn’t pretend to know why.”

“Yeah, you are right.” Roland nearly slumped against the wall, only to jolt instantly awake as his robe grazed the rocky wall. “Shouldn’t dirty this…”

“Or you could ask Masaru. He is Nictorian, after all.”

“Eh? Doesn’t he dislike talking about his past, or his time in the Empire?”

“Well, he does have a good number of respectable glassworkers in his lineage. He might be able to tell you more, outside of our experiments.”

The platform suddenly exited into open air, revealing a massive cavern. In these underground chambers, the crystal pillars that acted as the castle’s main foundations lit up their surroundings with a warm, blueish glow, living up to its prestigious magical heritage with the vast aetherial power travelling through them. As the platform slowly descended further, a few acolytes wandering the halls stopped to take a look.

Soon enough, the platform landed, and both of them stepped off it onto the cold paved ground, and almost immediately it began its return to the surface. Despite having seen it multiple times, Roland immediately turned around to watch it go - it was a majestic sight, the massive structure held aloft by nothing but series of glowing white crystals and the magical spells.

According to Madeline, when Roland had asked some time ago, despite being centuries old, it had been carefully maintained as a symbol of Straskey’s proclaimed prowess in the aetherial arts.

“So. How did the Princess Royal respond?”

A lone figure stepped forth to greet them. A man wearing a set of blue-dyed, thickly studded laminar armour over a set of white clothing, under his own Uiatachian robes of office, was waiting for them, holding his helmet under one hand his other on his belt. Although the whole set of armour and garments blended well together, Roland had recognized that the armour set was much different from the leather armour of that the Magister’s Uiatachian guard, or the metallic plate and mail of the Straskian gentry - indeed, a definite sign that the man was not from either of those places. To compound the confusion of his origin, hanging from a leather clasp around his armor on a chain - was a ornately decorated book, bound with a silvery metal spine and backed with thick covers covered in sigils

Masaru Soris-Verdant approached his two other co-workers with nary a sound, despite towering over the both of them and wielding heavy sets of arms and armour.

“She was rather pleased, all in all.” the Magister replied, raising a hand. “Why, however, do you ask about her?”

“King Aigu- I mean, His Magnificence, forgive me,” Soris-Verdant quickly corrected himself. “Well, you are privy to His Magnificence’s health, after all. It should be clear that Ina-Ragris is going to claim him soon, and the Princess Royal will ascend as King.”

“I don’t think we know enough of his health to judge…” Roland began.

Soris-Verdant turned to look at Roland, a wry smile on his face that was emphasised by his black, thin dangling moustache. “Perhaps you could examine him and cure him with your ‘modern’ methods, to earn us some favour with the court.”

“Goddamnit, Masaru.” At the foreign warrior’s poking, Roland spat out a curse in English, causing Soris-Verdant to laugh. “Look, we have yet on Earth found a way to cure aging, and it would be irresponsible of me to examine His Magnificence when I’m not a trained doctor, professional-” Roland stuttered for a bit, trying to find a similar word in Straskian. “-Magister. That works, yes.”

The two other natives tittered a little. Masaru enjoying the poking of his foreign friend and his subsequent stammering of Straskian.

“That said, I do find it worrying that Princess Livia is acting on her future powers so early,” A serious face re-emerged on Masaru’s handsome features, while his gauntleted hand rested on the grip of his sword once again.“That she went around the Advocatus to arrange this demonstration for her father indicates that she’s trying to work around the powers-that-be of the court.”

“Hmmm.” As Roland watched, Madeline toyed with the clasp of her robes above her breast, playing with a clasp. “Well, she hasn’t been made regent...and if the rumours are true about the issues of the western frontier…”

“The Bravus-Regium have been quite...disquieted as of late.” Soris-Verdant noted, “But even then I don’t necessarily see why Livia would have to worry…”

Madeline nodded, and Roland spotted a brief frown crossed her usually confident outlook. “Well, that reminds me that I’ve wanted to send a message to my counterpart in Vorstradt for a while. Do remind me once we are done sending Roland back, alright?”

“As I will, Matriarch.” Masaru nodded in deference.

“Well then,” The Magister looked at both of the two men beside her. “Let us continue. I believe Roland here is...none too eager to return home.”

“Yes.” Intoning with an exaggerated groan, Roland let his shoulders hang while drooping his head forward. “Please. I’m...really…”

“Are you sure you don’t want to rest here before heading home?” Masaru asked, his hand almost reaching out for Roland, “You were here for almost a full day without rest, perhaps you would like to lie down instead.”

“I can’t rest, more work awaits me at home after all.” Roland waved him off.

“Your tenacity surprises us all.”

“Less tenacity, more...the fear of deadlines.” Roland drawled in response, as the trio began to walk away from their landing point. “Nothing worse than a bad grade because I didn’t submit homework on time…”

“The bane of students everywhere, indeed.”

All three of them laughed at the shared joke, causing a few heads around them to turn. Meanwhile, the group reached an armoured set of doors at the end of the main chamber, bound with a multitude of spells and physical locks. Masaru held out a hand, where a Straskian rune flashed on his glove, and the door began to open, as runic patterns turned inert and the devices and gears began to grind and turn, the security mechanisms disabling themselves one by one.

“Come to think of it...Masaru,” Roland wonder aloud, as he leaned against the rockwall beside the door, “are you connected to the Nictorian glassmaking industry?”

“...where did you hear that from?” at that question, the warrior slowly turned his head around, his expression inscrutable.

“Who else,” Roland said, jabbing a thumb at Madeline.

“...well if you must.” Masaru sighed, all too clearly from exasperation. “Connected, yes, but not enough to answer whatever burning questions you might have about the ‘crystal-men’. Besides it’s been...such a long time.” The warrior paused for a moment, before adding a final, “I’m sorry.”

As he did so, the armoured doors made one final click, and the floor shook as something heavy thudded into the ground, Masaru grabbed one of the doors, and the warrior pulled it open, ushering both Roland and Madeline through.

This particular room was nearly encased in crystal save for the floor itself, which was laid with a material akin to polished marble. A singular dais rested in the middle, with a semicircle loop of stone and metal placed atop it with steps leading up, and from it multiple leylines lead out from it into the crystal. Under the crystals sole illumination, the portal was bathed in ethereal blue light, with the runic inscriptions on it glinting with otherworldly beauty.

As the doors behind them closed and locked, all three persons quickly got to work, not pausing to admire what they had done many times before. Quickly, Roland moved to a corner where an alcove had been cut in the crystal, taking off his Uiatachian robes in the process. Folding them neatly, he placed them on a wooden shelf, at the same time retrieving a black sling bag and a box of items. Checking the box, he confirmed that everything that he used to demonstrate to the court was still there, before holstering it under his arm.

He turned around. Masaru and Madeline were watching the portal, the former attaching pieces of runic-engraved stones and metal to it, while the latter raised both hands, eyes closed in concentration and her mouth speaking a quiet spell. As he placed the various catalysts and controls into the device, Masaru darted from one pre-set angle to the next, matching his movements to Madeline’s ritualistic chanting.

“Dormus.”

With a grunt, the warrior inserted a long, silvery rod into the middle of the portal, as Madeline spoke a final ward. At those actions, the many runes and glyphs on the portal began to glow, and the crystal walls around them began to glow a little brighter, aetherial power surging through them and into the portal.

From within her robes, Madeline produced a small, metallic tube, heavily adorned with gold and silver, slicing over the top with a fingernail. Moments later, the top cleanly separated into half, exposing a piece of parchment inside.

“Where would you like to be placed?” Madeline asked as she unravelled the parchment, directing her question to Roland.

“The usual, at the doorsteps.”

“Alright.” Making a mark on the parchment - a series of six numbers in a row - , she then affixed it to the rod, stepping back and raising her hands to it. As she did, an intricate circle of magical sigils - multiple polygons stacked atop each other with a sigil affixed to each corner - grew into existence, and began to rotate, a low, whooshing sound filling the chamber as she cajoled the spell into action.

Like a conductor, she raised her right arm back, as control glyphs appeared on her palms to direct the growing vortex of energy. As the sigils expanded, spillover energy began to accumulate, causing a cold wind to swirl around the chamber, rattling tools and items as it went. The humming grew louder and louder, while in the space of the portal, around the fluttering parchment, the very air within seemed to shimmer, as reality and space-time twisted in the circle.

As the spell finally reached its apex, the Magister’s left hand shot out, touching the very middle of the aetherial circle. The many polygons slammed still, their sigils interposing over each other - and with a roar, the device tore a hole into the world. A skein of light appeared over the parchment, expanding outwards quickly - and through it, Roland spotted the all too familiar sight of a certain concrete corridor, lit by harsh white light, with a dark sky in the background.

The rift slowly expanded to fill the full size of the portal, and as it did so, the roaring of its reality tearing powers began to fade, leaving only the dull hum of its normal operational state.

“Well then, this is goodbye for now.” As Roland threw his bag over his shoulders and headed for the portal steps, Madeline and Masaru turned to him.

“Yeah.” Roland nodded. “35 hours from now, same place.”

“22 grisans, but yes.” Madeline smiled. “That is correct.”

“Rest well, Outsider.” Masaru added, holding a hand up in goodbye. “You’ve earned it.”

Roland nodded, too tired to say anything else. Turning to the portal, he took a deep breath, and step through. As he crossed the horizon, a coldness enveloped him whole, for a few moments before the humid warm air of the other side dispelled it.

He turned around, and caught the portal swirling with a hiss, the faces of his fellows' disappearing as local reality reasserted itself, before completely vanishing with a final, quiet pop.