Machina Arcanis: Two Worlds Collided
Interlude: The Bookworm

A little Wildren girl sat on the wooden bench in the circular room, kicking her legs in glee. Stacks of books clustered on her desk. The walls of this hall were made of shelves of various tomes. Even ancient manuscripts were stored here. The scent of old books filled her lungs as she became completely absorbed in their content. Cartier had spent her time reading page after page, engrossed in the history of the world.

Especially the most fascinating topic, the ages of mythos. The time when gods and goddesses roamed this earth along with mortals. Fantasy, likely. That was why she found them so entertaining, exploring such a world.

Relics of the past in the Borealis castle and the origin of Astral Empress Aurora were the most intriguing topics for her, not to mention the eldest elf that ever died of old age. How marvellous was that?

A footstep echoed, shattering the stillness in the air, then paused. “Cartier,” Aurora’s voice called out in serenity.

The little girl spun around, seeing Aurora in her casual attire, her silky hair gleaming with moisture from her sweat. A white towel hung around her neck. It was quite an unusual sight to see her so casually dressed. Apparently, Aurora had just finished her rehab session in the rejuvenating chamber.

Cartier snapped out of her trance. “Empress, do you need anything?” she asked.

“Here.” Aurora stepped closer, placing a bowl of cashew nuts on an empty spot on the cluttered table.

“Oh! You shouldn’t have bothered,” Cartier objected softly, feeling humbled.

“It’s fine, Cartier. I don’t rely on the maids too much, otherwise I will forget how to act. What are you reading, kitten?” Aurora asked as she settled next to the little girl. Then her hand took a piece of roasted cashew and popped it into her mouth before patting the child's dark hair, where her flopped cat ears rested.

In front of them, the open tome had a sheening texture, likely an enchantment that ensured its durability for centuries of use. “I’m reading about the Tower of Babel!” Cartier exclaimed in glee before popping a snack into her mouth.

“Oh… Gregorius, the first Celestius. And the beginning of our Calendar,” Aurora remarked softly, propping her elbow on the table and resting her cheek on her fist.

“Yes… I heard his name mentioned last time, and I’ve been curious ever since. So I asked Celestius Vivian if she had a library like the one in the castle,” Cartier recounted, her voice chirping.

Cartier continued eagerly, “I couldn’t believe how far the art of the arcane had become! Just two thousand years ago, Celestius Gregorius was the first mage who created a structure by pure arcane. The tower that reached the sky.”

Aurora cleared her throat before answering, “The Tower of Babel was believed to be a challenge to the gods…”

“However, Empress, if I may,” Cartier paused, and Aurora gave her a nod, followed by a headpat, “I don’t think that’s a notable feat at all. No discredit to the Celestius, but nowadays the Lunarius of Capricorn could attempt it without much effort… I mean, the excerpt here mentioned it took Celestius Gregorius over ten years to finalise the construction,” Cartier said, pointing at her note.

“The advancement of the arcane has accelerated exponentially, just like how our world's technology progresses. Just a hundred years ago, we hadn’t seen such Armatus war machines. At least, not on a global scale anyway,” Aurora reaffirmed promptly.

Cartier nodded with enthusiasm, pointing at a specific line. “Here it says, ‘the tower that reached the sky’. Those words could also mean the tower itself was not built on the ground. There were notable remarks about it being powered by Arcanite Harnessers…”

“Hmm, what are you getting at?” Aurora frowned, yet followed Cartier’s rationale.

“What if the Tower of Babel wasn’t just a tower? Maybe it was the first ever… um, what’s the word? Airship or Battlecruiser?” Cartier proposed with a smile.

The Empress’s lips parted in surprise. “Hehehe, your imagination is blowing my mind, Cartier,” she chuckled, while commending the child.

“What do you think, Empress? Is it possible?” Cartier persisted, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of her theory.

“Well, I guess your hypothesis isn’t too far off, but I suppose we wouldn’t know. The tower itself was lost and never found again.”

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“Which even strengthens my hypothesis that the structure itself wasn’t fixed in one location!” Cartier declared, her expression serious.

“It could also have been destroyed at any point in time, Cartier. Perhaps during the Black Death…” Aurora argued, then chuckled after seeing Cartier cross her arms and groan in frustration. “You must learn to see things from multiple perspectives. Being critical and objective without having tunnel vision is quite difficult in practice. But I do commend you for your effort. You might be amongst the great scribes one day, Cartier,” Aurora advised firmly.

Having swept her blue eyes around, she remarked, “It’s not too shabby here, I see. I’m sure Vivian’s collection must be great, too. All Celestius mages hoard vast knowledge in one way or another. Tomes were the most conventional method of storing knowledge, especially ancient texts such as this,” Aurora explained, her voice rock-steady.

The Empress traced her fingernail on the runes and symbols, and frowned over the familiarity in the sentence structure and prose. Despite this, her knowledge of ancient history, politics, and arcana was exceptionally extensive, gained from over a century spent studying the world’s contents at her strict mother’s command. Yet, she had never seen this particular tome before.

“Indeed, Celestius Vivian has more of the medical stuff. But I’m more interested in history.” Cartier ran her fingers over her stacks of notes on the side. “All thanks to Miss Mirai’s help and your guidance too, Empress,” Cartier said excitedly.

Quickly, Aurora skimmed through and felt content with her progress, and then saw Cartier fidgeting with a cashew. Clearly, the child had a question that had been nagging in her mind.

“Speak, child. Do not withhold your question. You know I’m inclined to answer it to the best of my ability,” Aurora demanded, then proceeded to take another cashew.

“Empress, I’ve been reading about your biography in a recent work, too,” Cartier began reluctantly.

“Don’t read into those too much. The golden age of Osten is just an overstatement. Truly, it was a time of peace, but there was also terror.”

“The Ventiff. The Fourth Apocalypse,” Cartier mumbled promptly, index finger on her lower lip.

“Correct,” Aurora replied firmly.

“Then, to the main question, Empress. Everyone in the world has likely heard of you and your lineage. I wonder, what does it mean to be crowned with the title of the strongest Arcanist in history?”

“In history?” Aurora eyed her strangely.

“Other than history itself, I studied hard to find the embodiment of strength, individuals who could rival your power,” Cartier explained, eyes gleaming with amazement.

“I still don’t understand why you would do such a thing. But I’ll bite. Have you found one?” Aurora asked, genuinely intrigued. She had never actively sought it in that context before.

“No single individual has come close, Empress. The founding Celestius mages might be able to compare to your level if they attacked you all at once. However, such a manafall phenomenon had never been observed anywhere in the world. Does this also mean the crash of Arcane was so dense cosmically, it rippled throughout the entire world?”

“It appears so,” Aurora replied flatly, her eyes grew distant.

“Oh… right… the manafall, the fox,” Aurora relished the thought as she lay there, injured and fatigued, next to the corpse of her enemy. Holo-sparkling light fell from the sky, ever so majestically. Such a mystical sight to witness.

“I’ll never forget such a formidable foe as she was,” Aurora admitted proudly, straightening her back.

“I wanted to understand your power better, Empress. A basic question, like how did you get so strong?” Cartier probed.

“Hmm?” Aurora cupped her chin, pondering. “I did have years of training, like any Arcanist does.”

“Any special training, Empress?”

“Not that it’s special, or that there’s a stark difference. All warmongering arcanists practised and honed their skills through knowledge, creativity for their essence, and mental training for their mana capacity and regeneration,” Aurora replied flatly, while Cartier jotted down notes frantically.

“Is it because your mother, Lady Austria, was also an arcanist? Did she also fight?”

Aurora smiled at the thought of her strict mother. “Not at all. She was a Renaissance mage and a philosopher in her own right.”

“Then your mother might have a chance to meet with Celestius Gregorius!” She began rummaging through the open tome again. “Found it! Wasn’t she born in 273?”

“Yes. She might have. I never asked her, though. My mother had lived through the harshest decades. If I were to be the embodiment of Strength, she was the embodiment of Resilience,” Aurora mumbled, feeling a sense of nostalgia in her heart. However, the face of her mother had never faded. When Aurora looked into the mirror, the remnant of her mother appeared in her reflection.

“In the end, I couldn’t figure it out,” Cartier grumbled, exasperation in her tone. As she closed the book, Aurora caught a glimpse of the author, Austria Vere Borealis.

“Wait, that’s my mother’s book… One I have never seen before,” Aurora mumbled, tracing her finger on the signature.

“Oh, really? … Finally, a book you haven’t seen! In truth, the way she wrote about you, Empress, I felt like she was a very affectionate and proud mother of the golden age of Osten.”

Aurora nodded in reverence. Then, looking at the time, Aurora spoke up, “Cartier, come. It’s time to rest.”

Cartier was about to argue, “But—”

“Even the strongest arcanist needs to rest. Come.” Aurora’s words were absolute as she rose from her seat.

“Then, one last question, Empress. What is your definition of Strength?”

Aurora closed her eyes, the question struck her like a hammering wave. “Strength is loneliness…” she replied, her voice firm yet laced with a hint of sombreness. Thus, they retired and surrendered to their slumber.