You can fear change or accept change. But woe to you if you do both.

Wisdom of the Ancients, Book 2

Letter from anonymous to Catherine Rocastle.

Countess Rocastle,

I hope this year finds you well, your domains in good shape, and your children growing well.

I will not bother you overlong with stories of travels far and wide, but I found I was remiss when we visited the demesnes last year. I hope you’ve been enjoying our gifts, but I discovered belatedly that we left you one that was not fully suitable for your talents.

You will find enclosed a better replacement. Don’t worry, it will be fine with the travel. These things keep their shape no matter how they get mishandled. I sincerely hope – no I know – it will suit you, and make expressing your talents much easier.

PS: I don’t know how you ended with a lesser version. This one should fix it, I trust the maker of those gifts.

Sincerely,

Anonymous

Dispatch from [redacted] to [redacted]

Follow-up to the previous report, dated June 12th, 2173.

Item 1, update, high-priority.

Pertaining to previous instructions on potential out-of-state saboteurs and agitators, I confirm the presence of out-of-state elements in New Sandusky. However, I have seen little to no attempts at any political or criminal activity. Instead, the five people, four of which have already confirmed residency locally (copies of registration forms attached), seem to have organized a large-scale salvage expedition. At least three teams of the salvager’s haunt (ref. “High and Dry”) were gathered for an expedition in the far reaches of the mana zones of the Lakes Marches and came back last week (see tentative list attached).

That expedition seems to have been an unprecedented success; they brought back no less than two Artifacts (see attached note for commercial evaluation by the local salvage wholesaler) but also stored unidentified items, assumed to be Artifacts as well, worth a stated quarter million dollars at the local bank.

The same teams are now preparing for an even bigger expedition to the East Coast death zone. I have no detailed information on why such a risky endeavor, and it does not match the profile of expected agitators.

As usual, getting information out from the local bank is hard. I can confirm that the presumed Artifacts were exhibited to at least three different people, an unidentified minotaur, a scholar from Nashville’s Academy of Post-Fall Physics, but also one of the members of the original expedition. This appears to confirm the presence of special Artifact(s), with potential customers being shown these, although the timing is contradictory, and those Artifacts may have been already in the possession of the five foreigners.

Current local analysis: Commercial venture, possibly owing to Artifact detection abilities. Barring instructions to the contrary, this will be demoted to low priority. No other out-of-state unknown visitors to report so far.

Item 2, new, low priority.

The local pastor is investigating miracles. There is a local merchant (see attached bio) that was wheelchair-bound for more than a decade that has been spotted walking with a walking stick. The merchant dismissed rumors of divine intercession and attributed her partial recovery to…

...

Next report is scheduled no later than July 15th, 2173.

Unsigned

Letter from Ulrich Sengfield to Snowbound Glatteis

Snowbound,

I recently got the news that you’re still alive and well, and involved in that war in the north. As for me, I retired a few years ago, along with Miles. Been doing boring stuff these days.

Then, I started doing less boring stuff. I didn’t write to you earlier, because the forests of Banff are a bit far away and mail takes months to get to your usual tribal outpost anyway, when it does. I went on an expedition with a most wonderfully interesting woman, which you’ve apparently met, although she hasn’t fully explained in which exact circumstances you two met. But I’m pretty sure you would remember a fire sorceress who sees mana, wouldn’t you?

She’s busy remaking the world here in New Sandusky. And Miles and I are busy helping her. Kartmann is here too and doing his part.

Did I mention Miles is an Archmage these days? A good one. Calls up lightning, throws whips with burning chains, melts stuff with a pointed finger, disguises himself as a metal statue, you know, the usual. Me, I’m just a lesser sorcerer. Going into trees, making vegetation stop you, sprouting thorns on my knuckles. That’s the part where we all miss Cartaigh. She was pretty lunatic, but a Dryad ought to have been able to do what I do.

We’re heading into the East Coast soon, and we’ve got it all. Twenty people who can face everything the Fallen world can imagine. Probably even a – small – army. And when we come back, the world will change.

Can’t tell you more in case this letter gets read by some upstarts. It’s not that I don’t trust mail services, but you never know. It’s war up there, after all. I’m just suggesting you’d better haul your ass here before we come back if you can.

If you want to become a big-time Hero. Or Saint. Or Sorcerer. Because, yes, you can now.

Taunting,

Ulrich

Letter from Ernesto Gomez to the Offices of the Warden of the Montana

Mrs. Gemma Fonte,

I am deeply honored by your newest offer of studying so-called “interesting matters pertaining to Talents”, but alas my position on this has not changed.

As I wrote in reply previously, without more information beyond simple money, I have to decline even with a 30% increase. The Marches are far, a bit more dangerous these days, and I cannot abandon my current activities for such a long time without a better than reason than some nebulous “world-shaking” matters. When it comes to world-shaking, I am quite blasé these days.

If the Wardenship is interested in matters pertaining to Talents, rest assured that even if I am not following on your offer, I am still working on Talent matters. My current research subjects are, let’s say, far more interesting than what you offer right now.

I’ll make sure to send you an early copy of my next paper, probably this winter. It will probably be about nomenclature and classification of Talents, and notably, the formal divide between heroic and magical talents, under which I’m even including miracles, as it’s no mystery what my position on those always has been. And many more topics.

In fact, I may have a lot more papers soon. It is an interesting time, and I hope I am not too disappointing you by declining to come.

Sincerely yours,

Ernesto Gomez, Professor of Engineering and Physics (and Talents)

Edgard Maistry, Warden of the Montana, crumbled the letter. These things came late, and the report from that captain east was… disappointing. Another frontier town rejected the mobilization orders. The countess of those two towns was probably betting that he couldn’t spare the manpower to deal with her. She might even be right.

Even if the northerners don’t come for them, don’t they all realize that once the war is over, I am?

He’d made the area his headquarters. There were now many tents, including elaborate ones, at the edge of the ruins. A pathway had been cleared through the nameless displaced ruin, and lots of people had been mobilized at the main research location. There were dozens of horses for faster couriers, and communication with both New Benton and the now twin fronts of the War against the Northern Aggression, as it was now called.

A few scholars had tried to dissuade him from using that, but he’d insisted. It conveyed all the right impressions across the Marches. Who cared about a handful of old foggies who obsessed about history that had been ancient before the Fall?

He walked slowly toward the original ruin. A team was now working carefully. It had taken time and experimentation. You had to be very, very careful, but after multiple incidents, the teams were adept at gauging when you went a bit too far, disturbed the Skeleton on its weird Ancient Chair ruin a bit too much, and triggered the massive mana blowups that could kill anyone who didn’t run fast enough. Yet, today was a big day, and he would not miss it, even if he stayed far away.

His gaze rose up, and up until he was looking straight above, at the heavy cloud cover that promised rain without quite delivering.

And the hole in the cover, as clouds swirled above, leaving a straight opening to the heavens above. Even if the sun didn’t shine in that direction, you knew the opening was exactly above the Skeleton on its Chair.

But soon, the Ancient Skeleton and the Chair would be on a carriage, to be transported back to New Benton. Straps were out of the question. Even if no one died putting them, they rotted as if decades had passed in minutes. Weirdly, pine tools and supports worked. Any other wood turned into black ash – without even burning – in under an hour, but pine kept working. As long as it was raw, untreated. Dried, and it “burned” like any other wood.

Maistry would be happy to be back in the capital. The communications were better there. And the Skeleton would be safer. He’d bet big on unlocking that riddle.

“So?” he asked as one of the attendants hurried to his side.

“That scholar back in Nashville rejected the second offer. Says he’s not interested unless we tell him what it’s about, and he’s got better things to do until then.”

Maistry snorted.

“Well, that’s his loss. I’m sure we will have far more people with better ideas on how to crack that particular nut.”

END OF ACT 2