Monthly Short Story for May: The Race to the Void

Hello Commissioned Pioneers! :D As promised as always, in accordance with the results of last month's poll, I present to you the Bonus Story of the Month! There were a total of four choices once again, with a majority voting for Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School Side Story 17.

We head back to Aetheronrealm this time around! Or rather, Aetheron! As this once more takes place in a time before the Nexian Reformations! We meet back up with a familiar cast of characters, with Princess Lita from the previous bonus story “Visions of the Void”, now many, many years into her leading a mysterious arcane project which aims to breach the space between spaces! 

This time however, we get to take an even deeper dive into Aetheron politics prior to the Nexian reformations, and the intense high-stakes games and increasing tensions between the ranks of the Empiricalists who continue to pursue scientific innovation at a breakneck pace, as well as the Arcanists who are struggling to maintain the balance of powers in this ever changing world! 

This story effectively ties back to Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School’s eighth side story: A Bedtime Story where we see Princess Lita as a child, as well as Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School’s ninth side story: Visions of the Void, where we see Princess Lita all grown up and diving deep into her projects into the arcane as well as her investigations of her Empiricalist counterparts! :D So please do check those out either before or after you check this one out!

Let's jump right into it then! :D I'd like to proudly present, Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School's seventeenth side story! :D

The Race to the Void

Aetheron, The Grand Seat of the Inner Flock, The Aquamarine Palace, Throne Room. Many years before the Nexian Reformations. 

Princess Lita

I could scarcely recall the last time I was called to attend a Royal Audience. 

This was, of course, not accounting for the numerous officially unofficial audiences I had with my father on a weekly basis.

My responsibilities as a working royal had long since left the hallowed halls of administrative officialdom and social politicking, as I was handed the reins of the oh-so ominously named Society for the Resurgence of the Second Storm. A project that was to restore the balance of power. A project that was to preserve the authority of the arcane from the seemingly unrelenting march of empiricalist ambitions; by means of unlocking the secrets of enigmatic arcane energies outside of the realm of normalcy.

I was to spearhead the greatest and grandest undertaking in the arcane arts to have ever been attempted. Continuing where my father could not. 

And it wasn’t for his lack of personal initiative nor a dereliction of his responsibilities, no.

It was simply because he wasn’t capable of doing it. 

Because the moment my arcane powers truly started reaching their truest potential? It was clear that it would be my responsibility… no… my destiny to relieve him of such an impossible burden. 

It was only fitting that the man return to his responsibilities as a sovereign. Especially in such trying times of uncertainty, where the very sanctity of the balance of powers between the arcanists and the empiricalists was under threat. 

My brother, despite the unique circumstances of our hatching, was now effectively shadowing my father in anticipation of his elevation from heir-presumptive, to heir-apparent. 

This left me completely out of the line of succession due to the practical limitations of my ability to divide my time between my royal duties, and my responsibilities as a Master Arcanist. 

Such was my sacrifice. 

But if my brother was to have even the faintest hopes of ascension, if anyone within this palace, these castle grounds, were to have any chance at maintaining their noble right to power… then it was up to me to crack the secrets which promised to revolutionize the powers of the arcane, such that we would be able to compete with the likes of the empiricalists. Anything less would lead to the institutions we have upheld for millenia to falter, leading to consequences none of us wished to dwell upon. 

This was more than likely the reason why all eyes within these gleaming halls landed squarely on me, and not my brother; even as we walked together, and even with the royal broach firmly secured to his coat. 

I was a rare sight within my own home in recent years, so much so that I started to feel a certain distant nostalgia to sights and sounds that should have felt instinctively like home. Instead, the Star Spire Castle and the Arcane Sanctum were now my home, as day and night alike blended together in a haze of arcane research that threatened to tear me apart at the seams; literally and figuratively.

“Is that Princess Lita?”

“Of course it is, you fool! It has been scantily a greatstorm’s presence since she had committed herself to the grand project!”

“Long enough for her to become largely irrelevant in courtly discussions.” A voice quickly derided. “And long enough that it seems she has forgotten the common decency of keeping her pin feathers in check.” 

“And long enough that the empiricalists have made massive strides in their little toy projects. Toys that now have the potential to uproot many of our holdings. Tell me, Lord Tila, how has the Royal Metalworks fared in light of the new competition offered by the Academy of Empricalists’ Metalworks Workshop?”

“We still maintain exclusive working contracts with the trading guilds’ grand workshops.”

“Oh? Last I heard, the Seaborn’s shiprights have since decided not to renew their contracts with the Royal Metalworks. In fact, I heard that they’d seemingly favored the so-called Empiricalist’s Workshop as their new supplier of metalworks. Word within the chamber of commerce has it that the Royal Metalworks is struggling to compete with the scalability of the workshop’s great forges.” 

“Rumors! Rumors I tell you! The so-called workshop’s quality is dubious at best and outright laughable at worst! The Seaborn’s shipwrights are fools for not renewing our contract! Moreover, this move is born purely of political malice, with no basis nor bearing on the capabilities of the Royal Metalworks!” 

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“His Majesty the King has landed!” 

Three, loud, and heavy knocks were made by the throne room’s doorman, completely silencing any and all stray conversations, as all within the room started to kneel, bow, curtsy, in varying degrees of respect in accordance with their station.

Father entered soon after, dressed in his typical afternoon fineries with a vest and cloak crafted from the finest of silks and inlaid with precious stones; stones chosen in accordance to the royal colors, matching each and every one of his five primary plumages. A sword, scepter, and a crown of steel, silver, and gold respectively completed his sovereign’s attire. As did a new cape that was immediately draped behind him with the aid of several attendants, accentuating the dimensions of his wings, as both his arms were now hidden beneath a soft layer of purple velvet. 

But whilst the rest of the room were now in varying states of prostration, I, along with my brother, remained seemingly defiant. As we both stood unflinchingly at the foot of the throne; receiving the entrance of our father with a simple and almost laughably curt bow.

This was not out of respect or reverence however, but merely, the result of tradition.

As every lord, count, viscount, and duke had their own degrees to which respect had to be shown.

The royal family, however? Or more specifically, the immediate royal family, was exempt from these rules. 

“Ah, my dear children.” He spoke warmly, his age showing through the increasing depth and shakiness of his voice. “I thank you for responding to my call.”

“We wouldn’t have dared defy the call of the sovereign, father.” My brother spoke first, dipping his head once more, as the showmanship of court politics now began in full. 

“I had no doubt of your strength of character nor devotion to tradition, my children.” He continued, before shifting his tone to a more dour and serious one. “Unlike those that stand vehemently and openly against such things. Which is exactly why both of you are here today.” He continued cryptically, before gesturing towards the two empty seats beside him. “Please, take to your thrones. We are expecting a rather unusual guest today.” 

Both of us complied with a deep bow, as we each took our respective seats, but not before taking a deep and sorrow-filled bow towards an elevated empty seat beside our father’s.

A seat that would continue to remain empty, at least, until my brother ascended the throne along with his betrothed. 

“But before that, I wish to ask…” My father leaned closer towards me. “... how goes your efforts, my joy?”

“Developments have remained as they were as per my last correspondence, father.” I responded, though the bluntness and abruptness of that response seemed to take both my brother, and the rest of the royal court by surprise. 

I shifted my vernacular quickly following that. 

“In accordance with the contents of the latest letter I have dispatched, matters remain as they have been for the past month. Progress has been made on several methods of breaching the space between spaces, in so much that several competing theories have since been dismissed, leaving only three to become prime candidates in the completion of Phase Two of the project. Grand Master Likin and Grand Master Puark have both devised a universal theorem which now hints at the existence of not just the previously theorized ten additional distinct forms of arcane energies, but instead, at least twenty-nine more distinct forms. All of which may very well exist through the barrier we are attempting to cross.”

“And these distinct forms of the arcane… are they exponentially more powerful than the next?” My father shot back, a passion and fire burning behind both his wizened eyes and tired voice.

“Our current models indicate that there might be some discrepancies between each and every form of energy. However, they do not scale exponentially. At least, that’s as far as we have been able to determine without yet breaching the void in a meaningful manner.” I replied with a wide and expressive smile.

“Meaningful? Elaborate, my joy.”

“The reason why all other methods have been dismissed aside from the three aforementioned, is because those three methods had passed the earliest trials whereby we have, in fact, breached the space between spaces.” I spoke firmly, much to the shock and gasps of the royal court. “This is how we have been able to formulate a revised model of the universal theorem, but the information we have been able to garner from these breaches still leave a lot to be desired.” I admitted, making sure to temper expectations given the sheer limitations and lack of scalability when it came to the few ‘successes’ we had. “Moreover, these breaches have been… infinitesimal, enough for limited information extraction, leaving a lot of room for extrapolation to be done. In short, we have broken through our shell, but we have yet to have taken our first flight.” 

“Hmph. Always so humble, almost to a fault, my joy.” My father laughed politely, which prompted the whole court to follow suit. “My joy, this is excellent news. This should be celebrated, if not venerated!” He beamed out.

“With all due respect, father, I wish not to count my clutch before they hatch.” I responded with a deep bow. “It would be unbecoming of me to seem as if I wish to line my coat with glory before I have even attained the ultimate prize.” 

“Ah, but whilst that is indeed a noble aspiration, it would seem as if both our common subjects and our empiricalist counterparts would disagree with that common courtesy.” My father’s tone dipped further towards an open frustration. A frustration born out of recent events and the empiricalists’ tendencies for showy theatrics to push forward their own agendas. 

“If I may say, your highness.” One of the nobles, the very one who stood up for my honor earlier upon my arrival, spoke with a respectful bow. 

“You have my ear, Lord Baaridge.” I urged.

“I believe I speak for most, if not all of my peers, that any developments you make towards this most resplendent of goals is to be lauded.” The whole room erupted in a series of mumbling affirmations following the man’s statements. “Moreover, it is your humble attitude that sparks even more hope in the future of the arcane arts. In the words of Korstal the Wise — If I were to ask for a general, bring me the young and headstrong. If I were to ask for a diplomat, bring me the calculating and courteous. If I were to ask for a master arcanist, bring me the humble and the wise. For it is the nature of the humble to never overstate their capabilities. Which is something necessary when performing research on a subject as unfathomable as the arcane. Your humble nature, thus, brings hope that there is always more to your seemingly understated progress. You are our hope in this struggle against the encroaching madness spurred by empiricalist ambitions, Princess Lita. And for that, you have my faith.” The man bowed, and so too did most of the rest of the room.

A part of me reveled in both the attention and the praise, as well as the thrill my brother often spoke of, and that my father often warned me of, when it came to the taste of power.

“You flatter me, Lord Baaridge.” I replied politely, waiting for him to rise. Only once he did so, did I continue. 

“I am merely performing my duties to the best of my abilities. I intend on ensuring that the future we leave for our children, and our children’s children, remains the stable, prosperous, and secure one we all currently enjoy.” I paused, before considering my next few words carefully, especially with about a quarter of the room filled with members of the court-sanctioned empiricalists. 

“However, I would be remiss if I did not clarify what I wish to see from this future. Unlike a few amongst our ranks, I do not wish to see empiricalist traditions stifled, nor do I wish to see their innovation suppressed. It is in the nature of empiricalists to question the nature of reality as we see and experience it, and it is in their nature to question just how far this understanding of the natural order can be pushed for the betterment of civilization. That is their nature, and it is not something we can, or should ever seek to change. It was, after all, the unity of Arcanists and Empiricalists alike that forged the first civilization on the Isle of Towers.” I spoke carefully, as memories from Proctor Lekta’s lectures on the origins of Avilan civilization suddenly came to the forefront. “The Creed of Brotherhood between Arcanists and Empiricalists is one that I wish to see strengthened, not weakened. I wish to live in a future where both the arcane arts and empiricalist initiatives work in tandem for the betterment of all; both ourselves and our subjects.” 

The reactions amongst the crowd were now much more subdued than they were just a moment prior. Though it was clear that Lord Barridge’s speech, and my own progress, was enough to ensure that my polarizing speech was taken more as an afterthought, rather than the main point of contention. 

I didn’t regret a single word however.

Especially as over the years, it slowly became clearer to me that the volatile circumstances of the present can only be permanently mended by cooperation, not conflict.

Though it was also clear to me that this cooperation must be one forged by arcanist hands, for it was both the natural order of things, and the nature of those amongst the ranks of the arcane to be more mindful with their powers.

This extended to political power, as much as it did literal power.

“Well then this Royal Audience should be an interesting venture then, my joy.” Father spoke, his eyes landing squarely on me.

“Excuse me, father?”

“There is a reason why I requested an audience with both of you present.” He craned his head first towards Pilta, then towards me. “Today’s audience is one that I felt was necessary for  the both of you to attend, as it pertains to a matter of… unconventional circumstances.” Father spoke carefully, his eyes now darting to the empiricalists within the room. “The Empiricalist Grand Master, Velkata, the incumbent chair of the Palace of Learning, has requested the aid of the crown in the construction of a new structure never before built. A structure that he claims to be able to not so much breach the space between spaces, but one that will be able to peer into the space amidst spaces. In short, he promises a structure which will grant us the ability to peer deep into the final frontier of empiricalist ambitions — the heavens.” Those words were enough to send a chill down my spine, as confusion grew to suspicion before reaching a point of genuine hurt.  

The Empiricalists had not cared for the heavens up until this point.

They had much more pragmatic and worldly concerns.

There was, however, only one Avilan I knew who was currently as fixated on matters of the heavens as I was.

And it was because I had given her this fixation from our private conversations of those visions I had of the void.

I tried my best to rationalize this as merely a coincidence however. 

But a part of me felt like it knew that this was perhaps Proctor Lekta’s doing.

And if it was… then my respect for the empiricalist ilk would be no more.

“A fascinating proposition, father.” I replied curtly. 

“Yes, yes. Well, let us see what he has to say.” The man nodded, before gesturing to the doorman. “Send him in!” 

KNOCK!

“May I present to Your Majesty, Your HIghnesses, my lords and ladies, and the senior officials of the royal court, Grand Master Velkata, Chair of the Palace of Learning!” 

The doors quickly opened soon after that introduction, as the three-plumaged bird arrived with little to no fanfare.

His attire was as I last recalled, simple and subdued, with only the faintest of gold trimmings and a single gemstone adorning his scholar’s hat. 

The more reserved aesthetic was, surprisingly, received rather well amongst the ranks of the commoners. 

But it was a ghastly statement that was clearly meant to be made in defiance of courtly traditions.

“Your majesty.” The man spoke respectfully, before dipping his head, his back, and shifting his entire wings such that he was facing the floor soon after entrance. 

He at least did not try to defy too much of court traditions.

Which made sense, given he was here to plead his case.

“You may rise, Grand Master Velkata.” My father urged, prompting the man to slowly rise, his assistant helping him in the process. “Now, what is it you wished to discuss?” 

“A matter of great importance, your majesty. One which may come to not merely define an era, but an epoch. A proposition that would radically change the trajectory of our civilization and the path our people take moving forward.” He began, his opening statement retaining aspects of vagueness that was ironically quite fitting of these proceedings and not without courtly precedent.

“A radical change in trajectory, you say?” My father noted, highlighting the either purposeful or excessively poorly chosen choice of words. 

“I meant that not in a political sense, your majesty. I humbly request your forgiveness for any transgressions I may have inferred by my—”

My father raised his hand. “We need not dwell on this. I believe you are wise enough to understand the importance of something as elementary as lexical choice.” 

The whole room erupted in a small bout of dismissive chuckles at this, as the grand master’s childish attempts at subversion through wordplay was not just called out, but reprimanded with great prejudice. 

The man clearly believed himself to be in the midst of the middling flock and the lesser aristocracy. 

This reminder would serve to humble him somewhat.

With that march of humiliation complete, my father urged the man to continue. “Proceed, Grand Master Velkata.” 

“Very well, your majesty. I come here today to request assistance from the crown on a project we hope will very well redefine a field of empiricalism that as of this point has remained woefully underexplored and for all intents and purposes, neglected. A field of empiricalism that may very well allow us to gain new insights into the tapestry which hangs above us — the heavens.” The man paused, urging his assistant to come forward, the taller Avilan quickly began unfurling a piece of tapestry, one clearly commissioned from one of the few independent artisans that was in fierce demand from both the crown and independent parties; most notable of which being the independent empiricalists. “The stars above, and the strange dark abyss they inhabit, have always been much too distant for even the most powerful of telescopes to interpret. This all changes today—” The man paused, allowing his aide to fly upwards towards the rafters, unfurling what was in effect a room-sized tapestry that required the entire throne room’s height to unfurl to its fullest extent. 

Upon the tapestry was more than a single illustration. As both artistic interpretations and architectural schema were presented upon its beige-tinted surface. And while there was a wealth of things to fixate upon, one illustration above all else seemed to captivate the entire room. 

An illustration of a large domed building, set atop of what looked to be Mount Atolre, a modestly sized and relatively easy-to-scale hill just a stone’s throw away from the Seaborn’s secondary trading hub. However it wasn’t the scale nor the architectural splendor of the building that garnered the crowd’s attention. No, those aspects of it were… for lack of a better term, underwhelming. Instead, it was the cutaway illustration and what was seen inside the building that truly took the crowd by storm.

For within the ugly structure, was what appeared to be a spyglass, or rather, a telescope as Proctor Lekta would put it. A new invention that was aimed towards scanning the heavens rather than across the ocean and land. 

However, whereas most spyglasses and telescopes were, at most, the size of a Tailforn’s tail, capable of being housed in almost any study room… this one took up almost the entirety of the space of its enclosure.

It was clear now that the building itself was not the focus of this proposal.

It was this oversized telescope.

“—your majesty, your highnesses, lords and ladies of the court, and esteemed peers, I present to you, The Great Eye. A dedicated structure housing the largest telescope we believe we are capable of manufacturing given the strides made in glassworking methods, metalworking processes, and complex mechanical implements.” The man gestured towards all the various diagrams now, showing off the various cogs, gears, and whatever knick-knacks the empiricalists needed to emulate just a fraction of our power. “With this Great Eye, we believe we will be able to peer deeper into the heavens, to unlock its secrets, and to further the study of a field woefully limited by the equipment at our disposal.”

“And what is the ultimate purpose of this project?” My father quizzed, ignoring the fluff, the grandiose posturing, and everything else the room seemed to be captivated by. “What do you hope to gain from this other than knowledge for knowledge’s sake?”

“Eschewing knowledge, your majesty? There is not much this project offers.” The man admitted, prompting the whole room to devolve into a series of derisive chides. This prompted the man to quickly shift gears, as he reached what was a lofty goal he clearly wasn’t ready to bring forth. At least not today. “Save for the ability to perhaps lead further generations towards one day breaching the tapestry, and into the void itself.” 

These words shook the entire room. So much so that all voices came to an abrupt halt.

My father likewise pondered that statement carefully, craning his head towards me for a moment, before addressing the man once more.

“Elaborate.”

“It has always been the greatest dream of Avilan-kind to seek out the next new patch of sky, the next looming coast beyond the seas and oceans. It is in our nature to be explorers. However, now that we have circumnavigated the globe an innumerable amount of times over. And now that we have made distances a mere inconvenience rather than an adventure, there is nothing left for us to explore. Save for the poles, and a few other difficult to reach locations, which are sure to be conquered soon enough as advances in material sciences and arcane arts move forwards, there is now nothing for us to pursue. Nothing, that is, except for the heavens themselves.” The man once more paused, turning towards the tapestry once more. “One of the oldest legends in Avilan history is that of Trk the Dreamer. An Avilan with his head so high up in the clouds that he remains adamant that we, as inheritors of the sky, are not destined to remain trapped within this globe, what is effectively a cage. No, we Avilan are destined for the heavens themselves. And where our bodies fail us and our ambitions, we will make up for it in the Arcane arts and Empiricalist innovations.”

“And is that what you claim to offer? A means of attaining Trk the Dreamer’s aspirations?” My father asked, his tone remaining moderate and fair.

“No, your majesty. I do not claim that this one singular Great Eye will be able to do anything that grand. What I am claiming however is that this effort will be a massive leap in our understanding of that which hangs overhead, teasing us with their closeness. This will be a step in connecting our present with a future that Trk the Dreamer would be proud to see us reaching towards. Your Majesty, I come here not as an Empiricalist with ambitions of furthering my faction’s influence. But instead, as a fellow Avilan, as one of the many dreamers once entranced by Trk the Dreamer’s great works. I come here to present this project to you as a means to bridge this gap between our two peoples. As the heavens, the void, the space beyond the skies, is a dream universal amongst Avilan kind is it not?”

My father paused, as he sat there, pondering the man’s words for longer than he had throughout this entire meeting.

Eventually, he cocked his head towards me, and in a surprising display of trust, he spoke. “My joy, given your own projects, what do you make of this?”

I suddenly felt the pressures of the oceans bearing down upon me, as my heart skipped a beat. 

The man had arrived, bringing forth suspicion and a growing sense of unease to spring forth from my soul.

However, as he continued, he’d only managed to speak to my own dreams and aspirations; teasing me with the possibility to garner some objective insight into those dreams and visions I have been bombarded with night upon night for years now following my venture in the darkest depths of the arcane. Visions of the distant stars, and strange mysteries floating amidst their presence. 

“And what do you wish to ask from the crown?” I finally asked, refusing to fall for either contempt nor desire just yet. The blood of the monarchs which flowed through me granted me a natural sense of control, as I remained measured and deliberate in my handling of the situation.

“Funding, no doubt.” One of the nobles spoke, the same one who had derided me not a few moments earlier. 

“If I may, your highness?” The Grand Master interjected, prompting me to nod, allowing him to address the one loud detractor amongst the crowd. “My lord—” He began, addressing the detractor directly. “—if funding were an issue, then I don’t believe I would be standing here with a commission from the one and only Aris of Savenhold.” He pointed towards the tapestry. “Moreover, the Palace of Learning, along with many amongst the merchant’s guilds, and even the chamber of commerce itself have all expressed interest in providing altruistic grants for this endeavor. It should also be noted that the coffers of many of my peers, given our most recent ventures in metalworking, should more than make up for any difference that may be had with or without a royal grant.” 

A series of outraged gasps were heard throughout the crowd, as my father made it clear to the man through a single glare, that his verbal altercation with the deriding noble was to end now.

“In any case, to address your question, your highness—” The Grand Master turned towards me once more, before once more bowing deeply. “—all I wish to ask for is for a royal assent.” The whole room once more gasped, as members of the court empiricialists were the ones to express more surprise than others this time around. “This project goes beyond the interests of the Palace of Learning, and even the private interests of the guilds and private empiricalist groups. I wish to see The Great Eye as the progenitor to an entirely new society, a society of both empiricalists and arcanists alike whose mutual goals align towards the heavens. Any matter of funding can be discussed on a later date. And if the crown so chooses, the matter of funding may be ignored entirely. My only wish is to solidify this venture as one that will continue for generations to come.” 

“And to do that, you recognize that longevity and permanence that the crown offers?” I shot back, once more garnering the gasps of the empiricalists within the room.

“On this matter, in this context, we see eye to eye, your highness.” He responded with a bow.

I turned towards my father soon after, giving him a tentative nod, but not without a short whisper between us.

“This seems to be a matter that should pose little threat to my own projects, father. However, a working relationship and a royal patronage may allow us greater control over this empiricalist project. I suggest we grant this request. However, we should remain wary of any ulterior motives.” 

My father nodded, before turning to the man with a look of finality on his face.

“We grant you this working relationship, under a tentative working patronage with the crown.” 

“You have my deepest gratitudes, your majesty.” The man bowed deeply, taking a few steps back in the process. 

“Crown officials will be waiting outside to guide you towards the deliberation chambers. The finer details of this relationship will be set in stone within the following weeks. You are dismissed, Grand Master Velkata.”

The man offered a final deep bow before leaving the room entirely, leaving only the royal court, and ourselves to mingle and deliberate on recent happenings.

“I can only hope, my joy, that your project finds success sooner than this man’s endeavors towards the heavens. For it is only through breaching the space between spaces, and not the heavens, that we will find salvation within the enhancement of the arcane arts.”