Chương 177: Chapter 252 - Contrasting Philosophy

Mirian had gotten used to using the titan-catalyst for both arcane and celestial spells. It made it easier to be flexible. A Tlaxhuacan focus was better at manipulating plants; a Luminate focus, better at manipulating animals—ironically, including necromancy. However, as her lessons with her father were proving, having a specializing focus would enhance certain runic spells. The translated scroll she'd been left on the violet crystal focus only emphasized her need to practice with the specialized materials.

The scroll spoke of taking control of dreamscapes, a better understanding of visions, and dreamers speaking to each other. Some of the things mentioned seemed impossible. Speaking with ancestors? Anyone too long dead would have had their soul long degraded. It also spoke of taking years of practice to master, but from what she could tell, the reason why was that the user would need to master threading a thin line of soul energy through focus while they slept. Mirian already knew how to do that.

She'd cast raw magic spells in her sleep to open the Mausoleum doors. Before she slept, she spent time turning the violet focus stone over and over in her hands. Yiaverunan, Mirian thought. It was speculation, but it made some of the stories about Her make sense. The Elder God was connected with light and time. And dreams, it would seem. She thought back to the blindfolded statue of Yiaverunan that was beneath the Kiroscent Dome back in Torrviol. The first place she'd died. Have you died too, or do you persist?

She traced soul energy all around the stone, then, feeling familiar enough with it, rechecked the wards guarding her room and went to sleep.

She opened her eyes. In the distance, the Ominian walked the land, Their titanic form silent as They moved. From Their size, the steps seemed slow. The sight always gave her a sense of melancholy mixed with a sense of peace. This place… Apophagorga had shaken the land with its steps, but the Ominian took such care. Footfalls that should have been thunderous were gentle. Even the blades of grass hardly moved at Their passing. I'll join you another time, Mirian thought. For now, there's work to be done.

She closed her eyes, feeling the violet focus stone. She could feel its connection, feel the currents of her soul moving through it. The dreamscape is like a room full of interconnected paintings, each work of art blurred into the next, she recalled from the scroll. Walk not with your feet, but with your mind, to the next painting. It often helps to trace a design in your mind… Revelation struck Mirian as suddenly as a lightning bolt.

She'd read about the different traces the scroll had recommended, but now, she realized what they were: runes. Shape the soul energy into the correct form and correct energy level, and it would act as a rune. Glyphs presented physical coordinates. Runes, coordinates of the mind. As soon as she realized it, she knew which runes to use. Her mind drew them; she knew so many now. She moved farther dreamward, and found herself in that vast sea where anchors rained down from the sky, plunging into the ocean.

As the focus pulsed on her chest, she felt the intent of the symbols more intensely. There's a randomness to who was struck with the temporal anchors, she realized. Like rain falling. It was a desperate thing They did. She watched for a time, then moved deeper. There was the great tree, burning. The fires had grown higher, the flames brighter. The longer we persist here, the more the fire rages. The more paths are closed to us. The tree was taller than she remembered, scraping at the very stars.

The inferno was closing in. There's still time left, though. There's still a path. The deeper she went into the dream, the more symbolic the dreamscape was. This time, she pulled herself back. And there she was, in the Mausoleum. If her heart was present, it would have been pounding. This was what she needed. A way to visit the Mausoleum with more frequency. A way to analyze the designs on the Triarchy's armor. A way to study the runic circles around the Mausoleum.

No longer would she be forced to wait for days or weeks to pass. Has Zhuan already been using this bounty? Gods above… this could change everything. She made her way outside the Mausoleum. When she opened the doors, it felt easier—magic that usually felt slippery in the dream was easier to grasp. Mirian walked over to the place where the Triarchs had fallen and resumed her studies. Briefly, she thought she felt a presence behind her, but when she turned, there was stillness.

After hours had passed, Mirian made her way over to the edge of the moon and looked down at Enteria, that glowing jewel. She turned her gaze to the jungles of Zhighua, looking so still and peaceful from high above. Thick clouds and fog swirled about the mountains. She thought of what she'd seen when she communed with Xylatarvia's god-corpse. Things that looked like towers, drifting in the endless stars that shone above her now. She thought of her father's descriptions of the Viaterrians' magic.

Of the vast city the soul fragments had shown her. I don't think the vessel Zhuan is seeking sailed the seas. Mirian stood there, admiring the beauty of the world, thinking. When she turned, she saw another figure, wreathed in spectral shadows, watching her. She woke.

Mirian sat up. That figure hadn't been the jawless thing that had been appearing. Another Prophet, she was sure, and she was quite sure she knew which one. She first scribbled down a page full of notes so that she wouldn't forget the research she'd done on the derelict rune circle up there on the moon. Next, she went to the page in her soulbound spellbook where she was designing her leyline regulator armor and began sketching out new ideas for where she could integrate the focuses.

Her father could get her a black focus. Xecatl could get her a jade focus. The heretic priest Lecne, one of Zomalator's. The gray focus stone, she already had. She'd have to find the easiest way to get a violet one, but if Zhuan proved a capable ally, it would be no problem. Next, she turned to her map page. She spent some time erasing lines and adjusting her route to include Zhighua. She had a pretty good idea of where the Gate they'd be off to see soon was.

The discovery of the Triarch's mythril armor outside the Mausoleum simplified things immensely, but she still had the difficulty of visiting all the Labyrinth Vaults she'd need to acquire the materials. That would also mean delving into more Labyrinth entrances, as three cubes of relicarium would be insufficient for her design. There were more entrances near Second Cairn, as well as a few in Persama. She also needed to finish her research on using spell-resistant materials like orichalcum in conduits.

Of course, she also needed to find a way to get to the Divir Gate so she could retrieve the Triarch's armor. Her calculations suggested several ways it might be possible. Some of them were ridiculous, others, moreso. But if they work, who cares? She just needed to hit a higher myr rating, and the ability to sustain maximum power spells for a longer time. Soon, she told herself. A few more years, perhaps. She closed her soulbound spellbook, then walked over to the balcony.

It was late morning, and her stomach was unhappy with how long she'd put off breakfast. She set off to go find some, and then to find Zhuan.

Zhuan Li was in one of the countless elaborate rooms Wongzho palace had, talking with another group of people. Persama and Baracuel liked to have tapestries or reliefs showing their history, but in Zhighua, they seemed to simply aim for beauty. Whether it was ornate stonework or painted wood, different sections of the palace followed a color theme. In the central area, the pillars were all white and green jade, with walls of white marble. In the upper rooms, there was a theme of red and gold, using paint on wood.

Representations of myrvites were common, but she saw no depictions of the Elder Gods at all. Or perhaps there was a story in the designs that she simply wasn't seeing. She still knew little enough about Zhighua. The room the other Prophet was in was full of shelves and papers. People were writing things down, and Zhuan was skimming them over, then stamping them with an elaborate wax seal.

"We need to talk," Mirian said. Zhuan whirled.

"In a moment," she said.

"What we discuss now has ramifications for every loop going forward. Nothing takes precedence over it. Besides," she said, taking a gamble, "You visited me last night, so you're clearly interested in something I've been doing." This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Zhuan froze. Then she handed the stamp to a robed man and said something to him in rapid-fire Gulwenen. Turning to Mirian, she said, "Fine. But not here.

This conversation is already going to disrupt the sequence of events that will optimize our expedition." Mirian shook her head. She cast zone of silence in a bubble around them. The bustle of the room faded.

"Now they can't overhear us. Where to?" Zhuan tapped the scepter at her belt, listening for the sound, then tapped the table near her.

"You've customized the spell." She began to lead them through one of the halls and towards one of the upper towers.

"I customize every spell now. As long as the mana goes through the glyphs you want, it doesn't matter what order they're in on the page. Which is partly how Zhighuan ancestor orbs work. The glyphs are embedded in different layers of crystal, while the crystal itself acts as an encompassing mana conduit, so you already know about flexible spellcraft. I assume your orb there has a storied history."

"It belonged to Sun Shuen," Zhuan said. This time, it was Mirian's turn to freeze.

"May I… examine it?"

"No. It would hurt you if you touched it," she said.

"Ah." There was only one explanation she could think of for that. It meant her soul was integrated into the outer layer of the item. She's already bound it to herself, then. Does she know about relicarium, or did she just stumble on an artifact Sun Shuen made? Or perhaps one of her predecessors. Mirian redirected the conversation.

"Have you done much research on Viaterrian artifacts?"

"Plenty. But I abandoned it." A functionary approached Zhuan, but she waved her away.

"For the same reason that I abandoned the idea of mass producing spell engines to try and push the moon back up. Physics aside, Zhighua simply doesn't have the productive capacity to build them. Labor would need to be trained, resources located and exploited, logistics put into position, and then production could scale to a degree that would make the Akanans envious. But it would take time. You said you think you can extend the cycle further?"

"Yes. Especially with a Zhighuan Gate. Like down south, there's a lot of room for the system to rebalance itself. A lot of room for leyline energy to be dumped. And when Tlaxhuaco locates their Gate, it can go even longer. With the ability to actually balance the flows from different directions, rather than just stopper the flow from west to east, the extension should be significantly larger. I'm hoping for at least sixth months."

"Ah. I was hoping for ten years. Did you read my book?" Mirian let out a snort.

"Not yet. The first few chapters. It's been less than a day."

"Read it. Gabriel's already come at me twice with what he thinks are refutations. The answers to his challenges are already dissected in sections fifteen and twenty." Mirian was silent as they walked, then said, "Ah, it might be helpful to have some clarification about the terminology. For example, 'dialectical' has a definition in arcane scribing. Putting two incompatible glyphs together and—""Hmm. A translation error.

I was told it was the best word to use, but Gulwenen has several words that distinguish the terms, and I'm led to believe Adamic and Friian don't. How to explain? It's a philosophy term about resolving the contradictions between truth and belief. It's about how social systems change. People must believe certain things for a society to function, but those beliefs are flatly contradicted by reality.

Two hundred years ago, any person would have told you the Emperor of Zhighua was special, elevated by the divine, and should be obeyed on that basis. Such a belief was critical to the functioning of the Empire. Today, we know it was only social belief. It had no basis in reality. But where does belief originate? What causes them to shift? Shifts in reality are succeeded by shifts in ideology, but the process is long and jagged.

Shifts in ideology are resisted, because the entrenched elite will always mobilize their resources to protect their social power." Mirian nodded along. They were making their way up a staircase to the heights of one of the towers. A man stepped aside for them.

"Baracuel's Parliament is dominated by the industrialists. More and more of the nobility have been getting displaced. So they're planning a coup."

"Precisely. My research has been about these sort of movements. Any form of elite domination can only be maintained by an ideology where the population rationalizes their inferior status. When the facade no longer can be maintained, there is social revolution. Often war. I sought to understand these movements the same way an arcanist might understand mana flows, or a wizard, the natural movement of electricity. The metaphor is a good one.

An impulse of mana or electricity is a simple enough thing, but what you push it through drastically changes the outcome. To summarize greatly, parts five through twelve of my book describe how the invention of the spell engine was responsible for both the Unification War and the collapse of Zhighua's government, using that framework." Mirian hadn't gotten to that part in the reading. By now, they'd reached the top of the tower. Mirian leaned out on the railing of the worn battlements, gazing across the city.

"There's nearly a hundred years between the invention of the spell engine and the start of that war."

"You should read my book," Zhuan said, annoyed. Then, more diplomatically, "The metaphor breaks down slightly. History is not a bolt of lightning, it's a slower, messier process. Like the weathering of rock. Most of the time, it's unnoticeable, until one day there is a landslide. What was once a mountain becomes a hill, becomes a plain, becomes a sea—and it is just as inevitable. Humanity cannot escape the laws of nature they are governed by.

All thought has an origin; passed down by birth, by teaching, by the environment around us, or by the very nature of our minds. A single human is unpredictable. A society can be predicted—if only we understand the laws that govern us."

"So people are like spell engines. Just, more complex, so we don't understand them yet? I don't know if I believe that." Zhuan snorted.

"You believe it. Even Gabriel admits it, you just don't want to believe it. Remove yourself from the timeline temporarily and observe: do the events ever change?" Mirian thought of the early loops. It had taken a huge amount of work to shift events. It was only after two years that she was able to change the outcome of the Battle of Torrviol. And every time there'd been an election to replace Mayor Wolden, it always ended up being Sire Ethwarn.

That events didn't change without intervention was the very phenomenon she'd needed to disrupt so that her actions didn't act like a light spell and attract the attention of Troytin when he was hunting her.

"Then presumably, you and Gabriel aren't in disagreement. We take advantage of the beliefs of the elite, and simply show the elite that saving Enteria is in their best interest."

"An impossible task," she said.

"Tell me, what will be required of the Akanan and Baracueli industrialists if they are to build your leyline regulator?"

"They'd need to change their production lines entirely. Retool the factories. Direct their stores of magichemicals into scribing glyphs for the device."

"And this would be… profitable?"

"Of course not. But their profits drop to zero as soon as the moon hits. Only a fool—""But they'd have to believe the apocalypse was real. People respond to the social forces around them. Take Sylvester Aurum. I've studied his accounting books and factory reports for years now, as well as the organization of his joint stock company. As long as he makes his investors money, they're happy. As soon as he stops, every single one of his investors will revolt.

The chair he sits on has many legs, but all of them would be knocked down. Aurum believes himself in charge, but he is moved by social currents as much as his workers. As long as he wishes to tumble down the eroding mountain, he seems powerful. It's only if he tried to climb back up that he'd feel the force of social gravity. What gives him power?"

"His money, of course," Mirian said, well aware that she was stumbling into whatever rhetorical point Zhuan was about to make next.

"Say the factories are retooled. The masses of workers in his factories all spend countless hours on this profitless project. Are they paid for the work?"

"How else would they buy food or pay their rent?"

"Say they are. Aurum is rich, but six months of wages and materials, all made for no profit at all, destroys his fortune. Now he is powerless. Consider the alternative: the workers are not paid. What would you do?"

"Me? I'd rob all the banks to pay them. Or forge seals for letters of credit." Zhuan laughed, a sharp, rich laugh. It was the first time Mirian had heard it.

"Ah, so you'd collapse the banking system. I was thinking more that the same phenomenon with the factory workers would spread to the farms: workers would simply produce the food. And if the government was convinced this project was necessary, why, it would be a fool of a governor who would kick the workers creating the device that would save the world out of their homes. Suddenly, a new reality has been brought into the people's minds: rent doesn't really need to be paid.

The factories can be used to make necessities, not profit. And it turns out, the farms of Akana make enough to feed everyone. As people experience this changed reality, the old veil of ideology is torn down. People begin to wonder: why do we need Sylvester Aurum? He neither builds the leyline regulator, nor tills the fields. In fact, some might begin to think he and his investors are an impediment to the process!"

"Ah," Mirian said.

"So what you're saying is that the very process necessary for creating a leyline regulator would end the power of most of the Akanan elite."

"Yes. And they know it. Not as individuals, but as a group." Like a spirit construct, Mirian thought. Then, her mind was on Tlaxhuaco. Xecatl was able to reshape her country, but the systems there were different. The things that need to be done there reinforce the power of the elite, rather than undermine them. Is that what we need then? A new Baracueli Emperor? The thought made her uncomfortable. After all, she'd learned that the Unification War was about casting down tyrannical nobles.

She felt an instinct to protect their Parliamentary Republic, even if it had its flaws.

"I'm sure there's a way for them to keep their power and still get the work done. By implication, you're saying we don't need money at all, but there's a reason every society on Enteria uses it. Things that work as thought experiments don't work in reality." Zhuan made an annoyed sound.

"That's why I wrote an entire book on the topic," she snapped.

"I was hoping you would read it before we had this conversation. Then I could simply explain the social tests I performed in these cycles to confirm each point." Mirian held up her hands. She could certainly relate to Zhuan's anger.

"I'll read it. Just—so then what are you proposing?"

"Simply enough, I've done as I described to Zhighua. I've cut away the parasites, and let the electric impulse of change run its course. It takes some time to detach the sickness and heal the host, which is why I am busy. However, reshape reality, and the ideas of justification follow. Reshape people's lives, and the veils of lies are torn away. The dialectic resolves. Then, the argument is easy.

The vast masses of people don't have tall thrones they'll topple from, but humble homes and families they wish to protect. What must be done will be done. The river will be undammed, and the currents of history will wash away the mountain." It sounded excessive. Things would change; they'd have to, if spell engines were to be replaced. But those were problems she wanted to resolve after the crisis. Zhuan Li seemed to think their resolution came first.

She was ready to argue, but presumably there was some long augment in her book, so she resolved to argue later. Instead, Mirian said, "It sounds like we need more than two months."

"Yes, which is why I redirected my efforts to finding the Viaterrian vessel. And if that plan fails, I'll move to another one. There is a way out of this crisis. I am sure of it." Mirian nodded. They might disagree about philosophy, but not there.

"So how do the dreams fit into all of this?" Zhuan's face scrunched up.

"I don't have a book written about that one." She checked a time piece at her belt, then sighed.

"Very well. We can discuss that too."