Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (113/?) WiP 1

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Thacea and Emma’s Room.

Thacea

This was it.

The promised revelation.

The hopes and dreams of empiricalists long dead and forgotten, brought to fruition within the confines of this impossible construct.

An impossible sight, brought about by impossible means, at the hands of an impossible entity.

What was once a dream snubbed at by the arcanists, and snuffed out by the mages, was now proving to be anything but a long dead concept.

Standing in front of me, not unlike artifacts in a museum, were constructs bordering on the absurd. Windowless towers of questionable aesthetics, and grand spires unsuitable for anything but grandiose monumentality. These shrines to height, dedicated seemingly only to ego and hubris, served a far greater purpose than any house or clan however. 

For they served a purpose once thought impossible.

A means of conveyance from the dirt through the tapestry. 

Their size — proportional to the immensity of such a task.

Their design — thematically poignant. Resembling needles meant to pierce straight through the fabric of tapestries. 

Their underlying mechanisms, however, remained vague despite Emma’s grandiose descriptions. 

The energy harnessed from merely caging explosions inside of our engines was no longer enough. Instead, we skipped straight past the middle man — propelling ourselves atop of the raw and unmitigated power of combustion itself. 

The logical conclusion to such a statement… couldn’t have been that straightforward.

Indeed, if the caging of explosions within those combustion-based artifices was of any indication, then there must be some form of enigmatic manaless means of harnessing the pure power of combustion; one powerful enough to propel these towers of iron and steel through the heavens.

The visualization of which… proved nigh-impossible to manifest. As imagining one of these monoliths attempting flight as they were… was not just ludicrous, but an exercise in insanity.

At which point, did I finally realize the leypull of the situation.

I was actively considering, through no uncertain terms, the flight of literal towers.

Towers the size of those found in Aetheron’s capital, lifted not through some Nexian planar magics fueled by its boundless streams of mana, but by manaless means.

I awaited my disbelief to settle, and for doubt to slowly precipitate, amidst the brisk yet meandering carousel of towers slowly diminishing in size.

But it never did.

Or at least, not in any significant quantity to quash the impossible conclusions my heart and mind had already since reached.

I understood, in no uncertain terms, the sorts of impossibilities Emma was capable of.

Moreover, our discussions on… the void, and the expanse beyond the tapestry, had instilled within me a firm acceptance of earthrealm's seemingly impossible reach.

It stood to reason then, given my certainty of earthrealm’s foregone destination, that the manner in which said destination was reached was a more palatable point of contention.

But this clearly wasn’t the case for all present, as Ilunor and Thalmin were quick to demonstrate.

“Towers.” Ilunor began indignantly. “I’m assuming you wish to proclaim these towers as somehow key to your claims of piercing through the tapestry?” The Vunerian spoke with as much skeptical bluster as he could muster.

“I, for one, believe it to be a novel endeavor.” Thalmin interjected atop a more confident cadence. “There have been a great many stories of impossibly tall towers in old Havenbrockian tales. Towers that reach for the heavens, and some which dare to reach beyond it. I believe it to be a logical conclusion then, given the sheer height of the towers seen in earthrealm’s grand cities, that there exist towers tall enough and grand enough to pierce through the tapestry.” 

Ilunor’s features remained surprisingly unfazed by that statement, refusing to hint at his acknowledgement or dismissal at the prince’s assertions.

Though it would be Emma, who would respond not with a firm or definitive answer, but instead… a sheepish insistence on moving past Thalmin’s points altogether.

“I mean… you’re not wrong, Thalmin.” Emma began through what I could only describe as a reluctant admission. “But I’d prefer we start at the beginning, rather than skipping right through to the end.” 

This… outright admission through omission stoked the flames of curiosity welling within me, as memories of that private sight-seer, of that… impossible construct floating above Acela once more came into my mind’s eye.

“Then let us begin, Emma.” I spoke eagerly, watching as we arrived at what was quite possibly one of the smallest towers yet. 

One that barely reached the height of an outer-ring townhouse in the Isle of Towers.

“This was the first.” Emma began, gesturing towards this four-finned oblong tower. “The first to breach the tapestry, that is.” She continued. “But before I show you that fateful flight, and the successive flights that took place in the years and decades since, I’d first like to show you the basics of how all this works.” 

The carousel of monuments shifted leftwards, passing by stranger and smaller objects, before arriving at an innocuous item that shifted the entire formula of this demonstration.

A humble fire-spear.

My features immediately darkened, as I shifted my gaze back towards the endless row of towers that stretched on into the artificial horizon.

Their shape, their function, all of them couldn’t have possibly just been based on the simple fundamentals of an alchemist’s toy—

“No.” Ilunor began, voicing what felt like our collective disbelief as he took a step back. “You can’t possibly have us believe that you’ve iterated… that you’ve adopted the primitive principles of what is at worst a toy and at best a primitive attempt at shimmer-stars.” The Vunerian’s voice shook, not so much out of fear as it was out of sheer disbelief.

“Yes.” Emma began through a cocksure cadence. “That’s precisely what I’m getting at.” The earthrealmer continued, under what I could only imagine was a growing grin upon her enigmatic face. “I’m glad you recognize what it is since this makes things so much easier to explain—”

“It’s a toy, Emma Booker!” Ilunor reiterated through a hiss. “How can you have us believe—”

The carousel moved once more, as we were introduced to what appeared to be a chair… with a disconcertingly large number of fire-spears strapped beneath it. 

“We’ve been toying with the idea for literal millenia before we finally got it right.” Emma interjected. “I won’t have you believe that a simple shimmerstar firespear is what got us beyond the tapestry. That’s just absurd. However, it’s the fundamental basic principles that I’m trying to get at here. As in a similar story to the aerial craft, we started from what was ostensibly the right idea, but executed in a way that just didn’t quite cut it. Take for example Wan Hu over here, a civil servant back in one of our ancient civilizations. We know little about him, heck, some people dispute he even existed. But it’s his story that tells so much about our desire, our dreams of breaching the tapestry.”

“A dream that involves strapping about fifty firespears to the bottom of a chair, Emma?” Thalmin interjected with a cock of his head.

“Well like I said, we had to start from somewhere. And whether or not this did or didn’t happen, it shows just how long we’ve had this dream, and the trial by fire by which we would eventually reach it.”

The scene quickly demonstrated the… catastrophic results of the fire-spear-chair, which was then quickly followed up by countless more similar demonstrations. Of fire-spears of varying forms and shapes reaching for the heavens only to reach their expectant demise, or barely even lifting off the dirt at that…

This eventually culminated in what appeared to be a spindly, innocuous, utilitarian metal rack; holding within it yet another fire-spear.

Yet there was something different about this one.

As unlike the rest of the abject failures thus far, Emma’s sight-seer seemed to place an inordinate amount of focus on it, showing what appeared to just be nothing but a static fire-spear burning through its fuel in about half a minute.

“Nineteen-twenty-five, twenty-two years after the first Wright Brothers flight. What seems innocuous and rather underwhelming is actually a critical point in rocketry. As this was the point that Robert H. Goddard proved without a shadow of a doubt — that liquid fuel rockets were possible.” 

The scene quickly shifted, progressing rightwards through the carousel as similarly ramshackled fire-spears were shown launching… and failing, over and over again. This was interspersed with successful launches, though few ever reached the heights that that Emma’s flying constructs had formerly reached.

Though this trend too quickly took a turn, as each increase in these fire-spear’s sizes brought with it an improvement in both altitude and successful launches.

“So after centuries or millennia of trial and error, suddenly using liquid fuel somehow fixes all of your problems?” Ilunor spoke up, crossing his arms in a look of blatant skepticism.

“Not exactly. It’s one of the components to it. I’m skipping over a lot of minor details here, Ilunor. But suffice it to say, this century was an era of immense technological progress. Lessons learned in other fields, from aviation to flight mechanics to communications and beyond all managed to translate into improvements in rocketry. In short, with every passing year, our increased understanding of the natural forces allowed us to iterate and improve. The advent of liquid fuel was simply a major milestone that unlocked an entirely new era in rocketry. It provided us a far more reliable means of controlling what was previously uncontrollable, giving us the reins to better tame and command the very heart of this beast — combustion itself.” 

Ilunor had been quiet throughout a major portion of that explanation, though it was the latter part that truly gave him pause for thought. 

Something had clearly shaken him to his core.

A certain understanding that I too had garnered.

“Magic solved this issue.” I began plainly, garnering the attention of all present. “The reason why fire-spears are relegated to a trivial amusement, is simply because there are far more means by which its ends can be accomplished. The lack of control of a fire-spear, the lack of consistency and reliability, the volatility of it — all of it and more can be addressed through magical equivalents.”

“A mage could simply adjust his manipulation of leypull itself, for one.” Thalmin acknowledged warily. 

“Control and mastery over flight, is thus almost second-nature to the mages that seek it.” I quickly added, nodding in Thalmin’s direction.

“And would this… control involve the change and mixture of alchemical solutions and reagents? Of when one is added and one is removed, or how much is aerated and what quantities to add when?” Ilunor suddenly inquired, his eyes narrowing and his voice wavering.

“Precisely, Ilunor.” Emma nodded sincerely. “That’s… more or less it. I mean, there’s a lot more that goes into it but—”

“Just get on with it, earthrealmer.” 

Emma nodded, pressing onwards as the titular tower-like design of these fire-spears started coming into its own.

This eventually culminated in that first four-story tall fire-spear we’d started off on, standing atop of a platform in the midst of a clearing within a wooded forest. 

Suddenly, and without warning, this building-sized fire-spear lifted off. Under its own power, through… controlled combustion, it ascended. Story by story, it barreled higher and higher, until it barely registered to those watching on the ground below.

“Nineteen forty-four. Forty-one years after the first Wright Brothers flight. The launch of an A-4 test rocket dubbed the MW18014. They didn’t know it at the time, since… well… we hadn’t yet established the boundary between the skies and space — the Karman line. But this launch marked the first man-made object to reach outer space. The first object to breach the tapestry.”

“And do you have proof of this? Images, sight-seers, shards—”

“There was instrument data. But if it’s images you want, then let’s keep moving forward.” Emma announced plainly.

The scene quickly shifted once more to a desert in the middle of nowhere.

A fire-spear of similar dimensions, but additional improvements sat on its platform, before launching without incident.

It was only after the roar of its fire was over did Emma materialize a series of static images, each of which of… questionable quality — black and white with barely any landmarks by which to identify them.

“Nineteen forty-six. Forty-three years after our first flight. The white sands missile range, New Mexico. The launch of yet another man-made object into space, but this time… it had memory-shards. Albeit primitive ones by today’s standards.” 

All three of us took steps towards these floating images, of what appeared to be—

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Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Thacea and Emma’s Room.

Thalmin

A dark sky, and… something resembling a grainy soupy-mess of a terrain as seen from above.

This… wasn’t what I at all expected.

Moreover, this wasn’t what I wanted.

Throughout it all, the growth of these fire-spears beckoned a disconcerting question that grew to rival Emma’s claims of breaching the tapestry.

Because if her claims were to be believed, these fire-spears of immense size with actual controllability… could serve not only as toys nor tools of exploration.

But tools of war.

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Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Thacea and Emma’s Room.

Ilunor

The image made no sense.

Nor did I try to make sense of it.

It was merely a dark sky and some indistinguishable blur.

There was nothing to be garnered from this.

The tapestry had yet to have been torn.

This was an exercise in futility.

This… had to be.

What else could this be but—

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Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Thacea and Emma’s Room.

Thacea

—the curvature of a realm. 

This was… the curvature of a realm.

Tales from high-soaring flocks have consistently reported seeing a curve to our world, even after the Nexian Reformations.

It was just an undeniable part of reality.

And yet this… was fundamentally different.

The curvature was far, far too pronounced. 

The result of flying higher than even the high-soarers, of ascending far beyond the flight-limit, which meant that this image, this shard, could’ve only been captured at heights beyond the tapestry.

“I know you probably still don’t believe me.” Emma continued. “So let’s skip a few years so we can get a better view~”

The scene once more shifted, still in the desert, but with a wildly different fire-spear. For this one was… much more refined. It was spindly, tall, yet smaller than what clearly was ahead.

Its launch soon followed, as it pierced through the skies faster and more aggressively than the previous fire-spear.

“Nineteen fifty-four. Fifty-one years after our first flight. The Aerobee. Nothing too exciting about it, except that on a few of its missions, it managed to snap enough images for us to form a photomosaic of this~” Emma paused, revealing an image that prompted my eyes to grow wide.

Gone was the grainy black and white image.

In its place was a color-image of—

“Is that… a globe?” Thalmin uttered under a shaky breath. “How… where was that taken?”

“That has to be manufactured.” Ilunor managed out suddenly. “Globes of adjacent realms are made through careful cartography and assembled through countless hours of—”

“This wasn’t a work of cartography from the surface or even from the sky Ilunor.” Emma interjected. “This… was taken high above the clouds, high above a realm, so high that you can actually see massive chunks of a realm from above.”

“This image was captured… beyond the tapestry.” I managed out under a hushed breath.