Beyond the marsh they’d once crossed to rescue Pete, they found a crowd of fourth-years waiting. By the looks of things, nearly two thirds of the students were already there, gnawing on rations, quenching their thirst, waiting for the start of class as each saw fit. Farquois was standing at the back, but to everyone’s surprise, Theodore had joined them. There seemed to be slightly less tension between the two, so Oliver assumed Theodore was there to ensure the great sage did nothing untoward.
The five Sword Roses waited a good ten minutes before Guy showed up. He was in a party of five headed by Valois, who was flanked by the Barthés and Mackley—a frequent grouping as of late.
Guy waved at his old friends; Oliver kept a close eye on Pete’s response, but he just snorted and let it pass. Oliver was relieved to see him disinclined to pick a fight.
Another twenty minutes passed, and nearly everyone was present. Seeing that, the great sage smiled and stepped forward.
“Everyone made it on time. You are fourth-years—diving this deep is hardly a challenge,” they said. “Now then, today’s class shall make use of this Library Plaza. We’ll be re-creating records from the Library of the Depths’ forbidden tomes for educational purposes. Simply watching would be a drag, so there’ll be some hands-on lessons mixed in. I am here, so you will return home safely, but do try and take it seriously.”
With that, Farquois held up a hand, clutching a thick volume. On Oliver’s previous visit, the reaper guarding the gate had overseen this reenactment, but it sounded like this time, Farquois was choosing the scene. Kimberly faculty were allotted a set of additional privileges over active labyrinth functions, and use of this location must be one of them. Aware of what might follow, Oliver glanced at his friends, and all braced themselves.
“Let’s begin. Volsek Streets.”
At his call, a few dozen pages flew from the book, swirling in the air above. As they did, the surroundings abruptly shifted, and the group found themselves standing in a rustic town. Storefronts with barkers outside, ox-drawn wagons, women drawing water from a communal well—ordinaries going about their lives. A pastoral sight, and Gui and Mackley both sounded baffled by it.
“…A small town?”
“Deep boonies.”
“Guards up. A gate could open in the sky any second,” Lélia said, raising her athame.
Nearly every student was poised for combat, which made Farquois giggle.
“A fine attitude. But for this chapter, you need not worry yet. This is my class—I would not throw you into battle unwarned. I will explain things one step at a time,” the great sage began. “First, this takes place eight hundred years before the Great Calendar began. In other words, before the series of events that led to the Union as we know it. Links between mages rarely crossed national borders, and most lived with the ordinaries, like villages mages do today. A simple life. Most were less of the ruling class than they were advisers, offering guidance.”
Walking through that past, the great sage spoke. The view around them shifted to another part of town, where an elderly mage of yore was healing a wounded ordinary. Still a sight one saw from time to time, but compared with the emphasis placed on the privilege of the ruling class, Oliver felt this mage seemed far closer to the villagers around. Perhaps some would call this the good old days.
“And it goes without saying that Gnostics existed even then. Those cast out of society, without a place to call their own, have always sought salvation from the outside. And no matter the day and age, it fell to mages to deal with that threat. Though, their numbers were far fewer, and ordinary soldiers played a far greater role.”
Again, the view shifted dramatically. The peaceful streets were filled with soldiers wielding swords and spears, roaring as they charged into the fray. They were fighting humans—presumably Gnostics—mingled with kobolds and goblins. A mage was in command, wielding a wand at the back of the army, barking orders, and casting powerful spells at critical junctures. A very different style of combat than they saw today—and Farquois saw frowns on their student’s faces.
“Starting to wonder, yes? How could this handle the threat? A few mages, but primarily ordinary soldiers—in your minds, hardly a force capable of repelling any tír invasion. Threats so great, our best mages often give their lives to stop them—how could an ordinary contribute anything? That’s what you’ve been taught, and it’s accurate to the threats of today.”
Everyone was nodding at the assertation, but it didn’t match what they were seeing. These soldiers were clearly putting their lives on the line against the Gnostic forces—but to the students’ eyes, it was all so tame. No waves of tír creatures overwhelming them. No gate open in the sky, raining things that might not even count as living. The only signs of gnosticism were a few humans or demis with altered body parts. In which case, yes, an army like this likely would suffice. A tough fight, but little different from wars between opposing groups of humans—no need for a dedicated unit of Gnostic Hunters.
“But turn the clock back far enough, and a time like this did exist. Far fewer mages than there were today, yet they were enough to keep the world safe. Why do you think that was? Was this quality over quantity? Were each of them absurdly powerful?” said Farquois. “Hardly! Certainly, there are any number of magical techniques lost to the march of time, but in terms of pure combat potential, we are far more powerful than the mages of yore. The speed of technological advancements only accelerates the more people there are to study them. Everything learned through our bloodstained history has made us stronger. That is beyond all doubt.”
Farquois was answering the questions on every mind. There were certainly times in which ancient mages were lauded, and in specific ways, those reputations were well deserved—yet that did not refute the general trend of technological improvements resulting from the advances of time and population expansion. All the ancient cultures that had risen and fallen in days gone by could not begin to match the sum of modern Union power—a commonsense view. There were certainly theories out there arguing against this consensus, but few in the magical world took them seriously.
“So how was it these ancient mages were capable of holding the line? The answer is simple. The Gnostic threat was far smaller than it is today.”
Farquois made this sound obvious. And it lined up with the evidence before their eyes. Ancient Gnostics were weaker than modern ones; thus, they required far fewer mages to stop them.
“I’ll add this is not merely Gnostics. The regular tír migrations were nowhere as frequent as what we see now. And the scale of them was much smaller—it was extremely unusual for anything to cross over that could cause legitimate damage to human populations.” Then Farquois asked, “…Doesn’t that strike you as odd? They had far less opposition back then compared to now. If they had invaded at full strength, our world would have stood no chance. And yet—it’s almost as if the tír gods were waiting for us to grow.”
Farquois flashed a grin. Terrifying, Oliver thought. He could tell where this was going, yet he found himself listening with rapt attention.
“Naturally, that’s not the case. The tír were not reluctant to invade us properly; they had good reasons why they could not. You could say the conditions were not ripe. And they are now—thus, the invasions are formidable. So what are these conditions? There must be a reason why the threat is so much greater than it was then—but what could that reason be?”
Most of the students could guess. But that’s exactly where the great sage went off the rails.
“The number of prayers. The more people are left behind and seek salvation outside our systems, the more prayers the tír gods receive. And that unseen accumulation leads to the gates connecting our world to the tírs. This is why the ancients never faced invasions on modern scales. They simply had a far smaller population in the first place—and thus, the total number of Gnostics never crossed the threshold.” Farquois went on: “Naturally, this number rises and falls with the stability of society, but are there no Gnostics under good government? It’s hardly that simple. The population expands accordingly—we must be mindful that the ratio and sum are separate figures.”
“Wha—?”
“Uh, that’s not…”
“One moment, Mx. Farquois,” Albright said, raising his head as shock waves rippled through the crowd. His brow furrowed even more than usual. He was clearly speaking not just as a student, but as the heir to the man in charge of the Gnostic Hunters. “Apologizes if my ignorance has caused a misunderstanding, but it feels like what you’ve said is a dramatic departure from conventional wisdom. My understanding is that the tír threats have increased in frequency over time due to a corresponding increase in their proximity to our world, and because the tír gods themselves have a mounting will to invade us. In other words, they’re coming to us—that is the accepted theory held by most astronomers.”
“Generally speaking, yes. And it’s a crock of shit. A cockamamie fabrication, a web of words spun for the convenience of the society in which we live.”
Farquois’s harsh words only made Albright grimmer.
A stir ran through the crowd. And as the mood grew ominous, the great sage turned toward their silent colleague.