《On Foreign Magical Theory》 Fifty-First Day of Spring Foreword: I must admit reticence when the letter first arrived asking me to create a foreword for this journal. Were the letter coming from Isidoro directly as opposed to my editor, I would have returned it with a stinging spell woven into the seal. However, I must do my best to raise his finer qualities and I shall keep these musings here as a note of my objection. Isidoro is a licensed magus of the Anthropological Order who specializes in tracking down first hand accounts and sources for records. As such, he has a functional understanding of the official accepted languages within The Lords¡¯ Holdings, he is well traveled and resourceful, and his Mastery Dissertation on Vargo¡¯s Trinity is thorough and beyond reproach. This journal of his journeys is an informative work not just on the basics of diverse magical traditions, but on life within the Lords¡¯ Holdings just twenty year prior. If you can find him, you can be sure he¡¯ll answer anything you ask in thrice as many words as necessary. __ By power of will, force of personality, or knowledge arcane; the whim of mortals is affected upon the world. It is by unimaginable grace that those whose pursuit of power bears fruit inevitably self-destruct. According to Vargo¡¯s Trinity, the world and ether beyond are composed by The Weaver into The Weave, which comprises all observable phenomena. The Weave can be warped, but never truly decomposed, so theory holds, and the frayed threads are held upon The Loom to be woven again. I have endeavored, dear reader, to detect falsehood in this theory as my primary academic pursuit. The content of that struggle was published three years ago to the day. My instructor insisted I¡¯d wasted his tutelage being an ¡°obstinate fool.¡± My published findings amounted to empirical evidence of Vargo¡¯s Trinity.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. I can recount one incident on the Northern Wall. I was attempting to surmount the range visiting sites known for astrological study. I was guided by a dwarvish shaman, his mountaineer cousin and an imp who¡¯d been contracted to guide me to those sites in exchange for previously deep appreciation for pies of all kinds. A fortnight we trekked those jagged, wily peaks. I remember on the eighth night the Shaman, a robust gentleman called Cedar, and I began a heated debate on the proper formula for oxygenating the air as a component of a fireball spell. The Mountaineer Cousin, Willow, glared anxiously at the two of us as we exchanged utterances of a magical detection spell and some components of fireball spells in a competition to create the conditions for the most potent explosion. This resulted in gruff handling by the mountaineer as he prevented our inevitable demise. We were getting a tad over enthusiastic in our oxygen deprived state. We reached each of the dozen astrological sites, I learned of their revered ancestors and each dazzling apotheosis, and discovered for my efforts that each spiritual icon fit into the roles of Weaver, Weave, or Loom; Whether it was The All Tree who provided the seeds that became each of the first trees, The Coalstriker, who discovered how to wield fire and one hundred uses for it, or The Seedwomb which returns all to soil to serve as fertile ground for new seeds; each could fit into one of the three roles and none presented any that weren¡¯t accounted for. Since the end of my tutelage, I have made a study of Vargo¡¯s dissenters who cite gods and magics divine and wild. Often these writings are responses from those assimilated into The Allied Lords¡¯ Holdings, and these dissenters are recorded in anthologies of magic considered disproven by translators and summarily dismissed as savage and ignorant. I can¡¯t help wondering whether significant context was lost or merely ignored. Rather than sit and write upon my musings, I have decided to study abroad, from Broadbrass¡¯ Pit to The Machine City. Funding my expedition will be a matter of simple magics. On the morrow, I leave my nascent hamlet south to Snaggletooth Ridge to charter passage to the Southern Eye.¡± Fifty-Eigth Day of Spring I find myself writing for what could be a day. It galls me that I did not join a merchant caravan or hire a smuggler. I am surrounded by farmers and clothesmenders. The occasional traveler joins our line and scoffs as luxury goods and indentured factory workers pass us in an expedited queue. The last time I came upon Snaggletooth Ridge to charter a ship, admission to the city had been restricted. Then, I was a fresh faced young man attempting to celebrate his eighteenth Nameday in the cups. The Labor Leader then was a large, pale, balding man named Eric Blithe. He was a thug known throughout the city as the ¡°White Whale.¡± I met the man when he visited the City Transient, the local name for the large collection of tents beyond the city walls of those seeking admission when the city was closed. He was broad of shoulder and his head reached the branches of a pecan tree. He wore a simple cotton blouse with rough, blue cotton trousers. But for his height, he would be unassuming were it not for his boots. They were supple, steel-toed, and monogrammed with the initials ¡°E.B.¡±. Tawny brown leather with laces braided and secured into brass buckles at their tops. If it took him ten minutes to dress, seven were spent on clean, dry socks and fully laced boots. ¡°Good work begins with good shoes.¡± He would say, frequently. He said it so much I started saying it and I won the ire of the guard. He came bearing food, clothes, and supplies. It¡¯s not uncommon for a traveler to reach the City Transient hungry, having brought only the supplies for the journey and not for the egregious wait to enter the city. I was one of them. He would talk with the adults about Justice for workers and the power of weaponized incompetence. He truly won my silence, though, when he presented us with grain alcohol. The events of that night are both cherished and fill me with anxiety as I wait here hungry again, because I apparently learn nothing from adversity. This slowed admission is an attempt to control the latest worker¡¯s revolt. Ostensibly, food has been rationed to starve out the rebellious workers and newcomers are being screened to limit terrorist activity. The Lords¡¯ wealth continues to expand as they capitalize on related scarcity. More than a few fresh farm hands have been misled into dubious contracts and become indentured scabs. It may be pertinent to review some of Vargo¡¯s trinity as I await admission. Vargo held that all creation myths held common themes that reflect old wisdom on the inception of all observable phenomena. His conjecture is core to magical and religious study within The Lords¡¯ Holdings. It is common here to accept Vargo¡¯s Trinity as a literal description of divinity, but a diligent reading maintains this theory as a framework for understanding the beginning of things.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The figures of Vargo¡¯s Trinity are The Weaver, The Weave, and The Loom. The Weaver represents the role of creator. The Weaver composes the world and ether and is responsible for their continuation. The Loom represents the force and realm by which a creator constructs the world. It is here held all of creation and all errant strands as it is frayed and repaired. Finally, The Weave represents the world and ether as observable by all creatures. Common magical theory holds that magic is the will and degradation of The Weave as it observes and manipulates itself. Importantly, mortals, gods, and all other mystical creatures held to be manifestations of The Weave¡¯s chaotic whims. In his dissention, Garl¡¯Eckity asserts that The Weaver is itself superfluous as metaphor, though he fails to explain what besides an entity beyond The Weave could have begun it. Mandotu, his contemporary, asserts that there is no inception or initial creation, that The Weave has existed and will exist in perpetuity. Both are considered less than academic scholars for their orcish backgrounds. As a final musing, Wild Magic, the seemingly random and dramatic magical effects that seem to manifest unbidden, is thought to be evidence and effect of weathering within The Weave as it is manipulated and becomes frayed. The fraying of The Weave is thought to be root of The Wizards¡¯ Woe. All students are taught that as the weave is manipulated and pulled upon by a spellcaster, it becomes frayed around the user. This enables greater heights of magic as the fraying weave becomes easier to wield. However, this leads to slips and a loss of control. It is uncommon, but not unheard of, for some dark lord or great wizard to be counterspelled by a novice or simply destroy themselves. This is why most trained spellcasters retire as teachers. The frayed weave that follows them allows easier access for students. Night has settled and the gates are sealed. I am camped in line for the gates¡¯ opening on the morrow. I hear nightly movers discussing means and ends in hushed tones. A wizened halfling looks at me now from the poster of the wanted Labor Leader. Blithe was executed some time ago and this halfling, a Rhuba Tenderleaf, has been much more active. Apparently, workers have won the right to twenty minute luncheons and a day to themselves every fortnight by work stoppages and the occasional arson. Now there are a dozen men, ¡°Sweetfeet¡± they¡¯re called, bringing supplies into the City Transient and warding off predatory contractors. They even bring toys, candy, and macabre tales of workplace incidents for the children. I have been visited by the Lords¡¯ Guard but ¡°only coin speaks in The Lords¡¯ presence¡± as the old adage goes. This Rhuba may not have done anything for me lately, but if Blithe told his compatriots anything of that night, she has my begrudging allegiance First Day of Summer Illusions are a very curious form of magic. It¡¯s almost dreamlike in its execution. You must first do your best to believe a thing to be true, infuse the thought with magical will, and act as though it were true. With the right application of magic, an earnest enough performance, and just a bit of luck you project a new reality for all to see. According to Sterneye¡¯s Theory of Illusory Projection, Illusions are constructed of light particles being moved into position by the casters intuition. The stronger the intuition or the strength of belief influence the efficacy of the illusion. I, personally, find it easiest to select an illusion close to the truth and using a subject I rarely see or I ignore. In this case, I made my nose flat and inflated it till I could see my nostrils at the edge of my vision. I added a pair of lensless glasses and approached the guard at the gate as Ronaldo Orlando, an ordinary minstrel. While knowledge enables your capacity to improvise, and improvisation is the mark of a powerful magus; one must remember to keep thorough notes. For example, whether a chosen alias also has a bounty. I recall the night Orlando received his bounty. Twas stage night of my twenty seventh Nameday and I was celebrating thirty years of life by barreling into every loose tavern door. I happened upon a party of women celebrating a betrothal with a final night of debauchery. You¡¯d be surprised at the friends you can make with a few strategic rote sparkle spells, a friendly attitude, and an open demeanor. Though perhaps it was not my sociability, but my ability to make the grungiest grogs taste like wedding cake. It was near dawn, beard in curlers, partygoers sprawled on the tavern room floor, that I discovered my new friends were noblewomen, and the betrothed a future countess. In a suggestible state, Ronaldo agreed to perform at the wedding.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. In the morning, I arrived at the venue bleary eyed and fashionable without my spectacles and was seized on the spot because I had forgotten to maintain my disguise. Rote spells like acid splash one would think very simple to cast. The fact of the matter is that magic is granular and the smallest effects take layers and layers of different formulae conducting separate tasks. Some things can be described in two words and take two dozen to explain. First, one must collect moisture from the air into the palm of one¡¯s hand and one must remove the Lode Particles from the water, charging it negatively and turning it into acid. Once a handful is collected, it can be thrown to blind an attacker. It can also be used to melt the lock. This process had already begun when the countess arrived. Lady Habbird waded untouched through grimy hallways. She wore a periwinkle waistcoat and a matching pleated skirt, complimented by a brilliantly white ruffled blouse. Silver buckled, black heels clicked loudly on the damp stone. Her hair was tied back beyond the reach of filth, thin silver pins twinkled in her black hair pulled into a tight bun. A star barbell piercing through the ridge of her nose sat elegantly above the barest wisp of a mustache. Her every step echoed farther down the hall, silencing the officers and inmates around her; and she was approaching me. When she arrived at my cell, I expected ire and disgust. However, her countenance was studious. She watched me carefully as I stood to address her, keeping acid dripping from my palm behind my back into a bucket I¡¯d been provided for relief. Slowly, deliberately she finally spoke. ¡°It is my understanding the good fellow Ronaldo Orlando is actually the magus Isidoro of the Amber Hills. Do you deny it?¡± Taken aback, I replied. ¡°I will not, against my better judgement.¡± She thought longer still. ¡°Then I need your magic. You may stay at my estate under house arrest.¡± I must share with you, reader, that I bristle at being told what to do, but when she said: ¡±Or you can stay in this cell where the guards can smell exactly what you¡¯re doing and have prepared a contingency should you attempt to escape.¡± I conceded.