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Chapter 91: An Invention and a Choice
🕑 Added 2023-04-10 10:07:05 +0000 UTCChapter 91: An Invention and a Choice
Well, this is a little awkward. Mercury was supposed to have woken up by now, yet here we are. And he's still sleeping. Let me quickly check how long he actually keeps his eyes shut for. Wow, three whole days? He better remember where that waterhole is. Then, in the meantime, why not stop by someone else?
Yes, let's go with that.
Somewhere quite far from the central continent, to the west of Damoy, laid Arterus. The continent of demons and devils, full of strive, and hatred, and desire. The people there burned as hot as the lands they walked upon, the heat in the air always scorching, the tempers that flared up quite similar to the environment too.
Not all demons were the same though. That would be quite silly. No, they all had their desires, and while many of them enjoyed trickery and battles, be they of strength or of wit, others lived for the experienced. Fine wines, extravagant paintings, or whatever pleasures they set their mind to. There were even some demon lords, heads of the 72 cities, that never once partook in their battles of rank.
One such demon was Zagan. She had reigned over the golden city of Ert'olockh, a place where the rivers flowed with wine instead of blood, and all that glittered was truly gold. Some time ago now, she had indulged her arrogance and allowed a music duel between her and Wilhelmia of Ragnarock to decide whether they would stay as her court musicians.
It was a disgraceful loss, and perhaps her greatest yet, but Zagan did not mind much. She had agreed when her blood ran hot, and when it cooled down, she stood by her decisions. Their visit had been pleasant nonetheless, and she had been their sponsor since, allowing them to spread her name along their music through Arterus.
The demon was pleased with this arrangement, as perhaps the only thing greater than pleasure may be fame to her. And fame was hard to come by as a demon, especially one who shunned the battles for their rankings. Now, she was getting letters, thanking her for sponsoring such incredible performances, and of course, more travel to her city.
Perhaps that would not mean much to most of the blood-obsessed demon princes, or those seeking conquest above all, but to her it was worth quite a bit. See, new bright minds were rare, most of them choosing to remain holed up with their own research to attend. They travelled little, only exchanging letters with select colleagues, and perhaps some stemming from royal families would have the resources to keep a teleportation circle running.
Now, though? A steady stream of newcomers to her city. Bight minds and dim ones alike, the dim spending a couple days and a bit of coin, perhaps buying some of the shaped gold their city offered as a souvenir. After all, where Zagan went, gold was not worth very much, and ever since Midas had asked to stay in her castle, well, the city had only been glistening more.
But the alloys that currency was made from, those she was forbidden from transmuting. Well kept pact that one was. Established at the beginning of the fourth book and in place ever since. New coins see the market only so often as old ones are swept away and recast, a pact proposed with the devils' seal of promise on it. Now only select mines and people could produce proper coin, making laundering more than difficult.
She digressed. The dim travellers brought trade, at the very least, and trouble, at the very worst. If it was too much trouble, perhaps they would assist the bright minds in their studies, be that more or less willingly. Those, however, who were interested in research, she truly welcomed. When they arrived in her city, the gates would swing open, and soon they would be offered a position, with good pay and funding that was just as well.
Most agreed, those that didn't were left alone as well. It was no good forcing the smart, they would always find a way to weasel out. But for those that agreed, in exchange for pay, helpers and experimental subjects, Zagan did not request very much, only that they indulge a little in some personal projects of hers. The success did not have to be grandiose, it could even be a failure, it was more of an agreement they would give it a try.
This time was not a failure. It wasn't even close to what anyone could consider slightly awry. No, it had gone splendidly, with an invention she was sure would spread like wildfire once she showed it to the nobles, and she knew there was even more money to make if they managed to mass-produce the item.
It was a machine that required operation by someone. They needed not be exceptionally powerful, simply well rested and in good health, having some stamina to spare, and knowledge on how to use it, too.
The first part of the machine was a large, heavy casing, one with a handprint slot where it would receive the stamina. As it was a prototype, it still used zitodain, a hardy plant that grew thorns thin enough you'd barely notice their sting, but once they pierced the body, those needles would begin draining the stamina of a host vessel. They were invasive, and could cause anemic reactions, especially with prolonged exposure. They also did a pisspoor job at storing stamina, but with that all said, they were a common weed and easy to procure.
Once the product was finished, they might replace it with the more gentle muckmoss, a plant which happily receives stamina by taking it from the surface layers of skin, however it is too soft to drain any large amounts if not specifically fed. When it does receive larger quantities of stamina though, it would grow bulbs that pulsated with green life beneath itself, storing it for winter, where it would hibernate and sustain itself from its reserves.
Its downside was the requirement for proper stamina channels, which were a pain to build, while the vines of the zitodain would serve as those by themselves. Still, the important part was simply getting the stamina to where it needed to be, a contraption on the inside about as confusing and horrifying as one may imagine. A circular spring made of flattened metal at the top, with a needle attached to its end, the stamina slowly pushing it inward further as it performed the miracle she had asked for.
The other required part was a disc. They had chosen this shape since it maximized surface area per material used, and the circular shape was much easier to produce a spring for. Additionally, it was symmetrical. On this disc, the needle would push down, and this push would be controlled by something else entirely.
Something her inventors called a "sound recording device" was attached to the front of the machine casing. As of the prototype, it used a thin lattice of rubbery material, this one a rock she was told. First, Zagan could hardly believe that rock would be rubbery, and yet as she stared at it, it looked her clear back in the eyes. The rock formed between an extremely hot surface, they had used magma for it, and a thin sheet of earth infused water. Upon contact, the water evaporated, leaving a thin sheet behind that they had cut a circle from.
In general, this material wasn't used much. The applications were limited, as it tore easily, and boasted little resistance to piercing or cutting, yet here it worked. Because when hit with vibrations from the air, the material resisted these very strongly, the friction apparently stemming from the earth essence that laid inside not wanting to move very quickly.
So, as a thin film, when hit with sound, it resisted the movement, remaining perfectly still, and instead it released a tiny amount of earth charged mana, so miniscule it would hardly be useful for anything else, and yet here it was infused into the needle tip. The mana, created from the sound, still carried many of its properties. More mana meant louder sounds, higher pitched would create a stronger elemental affinity, and since the affinity was earth, it cut through any stone much easier.
With the mana in the needle, it would glide through the discs, carving channels into them that were entirely unique to what was spoken in front of the giant chassis, and once the elapsed time was over, the needle would lift itself up, by detecting the hard inner core of the disc, where heat would build up fast as it cut through, and there, it would then be moved via a clever gear mechanism, using a thin film of water below the plate, which would turn into steam, push up a cylinder, and remove the needle from the plate.
Then, the frame opens up, and one has a finished disc.
It was still an imperfect construction, but the first half was there simply to make these things. Round stones with channels carved into them, each one perfectly unique.
There were, of course, many flaws to hash out. First of all, the earth mana transportation was not flawless, some of it got lost along the way, and with how little it was, perhaps a magic amplifier would be nice to have in there. Those would then be hard to charge though, requiring maintenance, so they were currently working on an amplifier which may be able to use saved up stamina to make the channels more consistent.
Additionally, the spring would move according to the stamina put in, so as of right now, it needed a very high level of precision, and tuning to the individual plant. Some of that would be improved upon using muckmoss, but some problems still remained, such as creating enough steam for the cylinder to actually push the needle up. It was quite heavy and needed a good amount of heat, and since they couldn't exactly turn off the earth mana, generating that much simply from friction was hard.
As of right now, they were using flamestone, but of course, that was an option with many problems in and of itself, namely the risk of combustion inside the chamber, which would break more than just the disc it was at the center of. These were only some of the improvements yet to be made.
Still, it worked! In some ungodly way, these geniuses managed to catch sound onto a thing, and then figured out a way to play it back.
See, with the channel complete, they then moved to find a material that let them measure back a signal to somehow convert into sound. Unfortunately, this side did not allow for the use of zitodain, as the playback needed a very consistent source of stamina, and so they had to uniquely manufacture staminaducts that could take it from the muckmoss bulbs and channel it into a shrieker cylinder.
Shriekers, of course, were rocks that violently reacted to stamina, becoming gaseous upon contact and expanding to many times their size, before turning back after using up all their energy. It was a strange sight to witness, and they got their names from the howl they made by blasting aside the air and sucking it back in.
Now, these shrieker cylinders could not constantly accept stamina, otherwise they would simply stay expanded, instead, stamina must be periodically added to create consistent expansion and contraction. Then, the cylinder would move up and down, spinning a giant wheel. Once said wheel reaches sufficient rotation, it will keep receiving small amounts of energy from the cylinder, as it is used to spin another, much smaller plate, upon which the stone disc rests.
Those systems had taken forever to develop, and sync up to achieve the correct rotation speed, since on the other side the cutting needle experienced far less actual friction. It was a chore, but they had managed, somehow.
Of course, the shriekers themselves were surrounded with noise padding, so as to not cause disruptions, but since it was an enclosed space, the noise they made was much more muffled.
Still, after the disc was finally spinning at a constant velocity, the needed to find something that could read the imprints. Logically, another needle was chosen, This one needing to be softer than the stone, yet still hard enough to not be worn down by it, and additionally, it needed to create some sort of reaction with their contraption that could somehow be turned into stone. The choice was a difficult one, but eventually, they managed to settle on firebeetle chitin.
It would rub against the sides and bottom of the shallow grooves cut into the disc, and being what it was, the chitin would then slightly charge with fire essence. There were better options for quality, but the chitin was long-lasting, did a good enough job, and was also easily replaceable, which some alternatives were not.
In any case, the fire essence would then strive to rise, and particular conduits would be provided, before at the very end, there was a reader, the most expensive part they couldn't get around in the prototype. It was an emberstone, a gem that would always shine with glimpses of an extinguished flame, and when touched by essence it sent out much more tangible, and easily interactable signals of slight vibrations.
These were channelled into a stamina-powered amplifier, and finally, the construction was done.
A thing of beauty it was, Zagan knew that much as she stared into the machine. A creation whose prototype was so glorious, she would have the envy of any music-lover in the world.
Yet, she was not a cruel mistress, and was more than willing to share this pleasure with those who craved it as much as her. So, without any hesitation, she asked for a feast, and duly rewarded the scientists. And a moment before the festivals began, she asked for the invention's name.
"We want to call it the whinyl-system," one of the demons replied, pushing up a pair of glasses.
"Whinyl?" Zagan asked.
"Inspired by the slight whirring it gives off when recording a new sound, of the grooves being dug," the scientist replied.
"It is a fine name!" Zagan replied with a grin. "Let us make a toast, to whinyl!!"
"Think she'll ever find out it's because she whined about wanting it so much," one of the demons whispered to another.
"No shot. Now let her be excited, this'll surely get us some more material."
And with that, music could finally be heard when not one person played it.
- - - - - -
Avery simply shook his head at the report he received.
"Marcel?" he asked, and for just a short moment, no on answered. "Come in here before I come outside."
A moment later, the door to Avery's office swung open, as the receptionist stepped in, wearing his brightest smile. "Yes, guild master?" he asked, his arms crossed behind his back.
"Read this," Avery said, pushing the document over the table towards his assistant.
"I don't understand, guild master, I've read it before and-"
"Read. It." Avery snarled.
The receptionist sighed in reply. "Fine," he relented, not facing much of a choice at all. "There have been sightings of multiple confirmed tier 4 beasts, as well as extremely aggressive weather conditions. Bla, bla, bla, things are looking grim for adventurer parties below C rank, bla bla, we wish the guild master himself look into this matter. Anything else, Avery?"
"I got a bad feeling about it," Avery said, tapping his fingers on the table. "Our readings've been inconclusive at best, the scouting has gone horribly with most of the monsters hiding in the sand, and the landscape seems endless. It's not a swarm type, either, but an exploration one, and we don't know how vast it stretches. It's unpredictable. And I've run out of bread."
"Yeah, I can see that. It's gonna be a tough one to predict for sure. Is it your <Intuition> piping up?" Marcel asked, struggling to take things as seriously as Avery maybe wanted him to.
The guild master just nodded in reply. "It is. Not even the exploration as much, I'm sure I can handle it. Hell, I've been through my share of deserts, actually. The problem is with the outside. The front's been restless lately, you know it as well as I do, and if Stormbraver gets attacked while I'm out again I might just head to Evlenor my-damn-self."
"Sir, I advise you to not be a fucking dumbass," Marcel sighed again. "This is the kind of shit guild masters decide. Is a C rank party exploring the dungeon or are you heading in? Both have dangers and risks, now weigh them," he said, leaning over the table and staring the man who should be his superior down.
After a few moments of silence, Avery couldn't help but crack a smile. "Kah, I knew having you show your ass was the right call. Thanks for keeping me on track. Get the scouts into my office if they're not asleep yet, if they are, get someone to carry their beds."
"Yeah, yeah, old man," Marcel said with a grin. "I'll make sure to pick up some bread so you don't starve as well, asshole."
Avery could only shake his head as the door to his office fell shut. Well then, what would be the right call? A good likelihood of sending a small team to their doom, or a low chance of seeing this city razed to the ground. He shook his head again at the thought. There was still a little more he needed to know, choices like these weren't ones he would make lightly.
