Though the chamber beneath Dragonjaw Gate was vast, the several thousand priests who filled the space made it feel cramped. Back when I’d been summoned here, the whole place had been filled with a pale blue light emitted by a complicated magic circle. However, that circle had lost its light, so the chamber was illuminated by the lanterns that the priests carried.
“What are they going to do, I wonder?” Meg muttered impatiently as she watched the gathered priests. What was with her attitude? She was the one who’d said she wanted to see the ceremony. Granted, the proceedings had been rather boring so far.
This wasn’t what I’d expected when I’d heard a ceremony was to be held. There was no singing to God, nor any dancing, and of course there were no sacrifices. Some priests kneeled here and there, drawing small magic circles within the greater circle, murmuring chants or spells as they placed their hands on the fresh symbols. At times, a priest would abandon his own circle and go off somewhere, and then a different priest who’d previously been standing by would assume his place and begin murmuring something else. Seeing that the priests who stood were swaying on their feet, I guessed they were sending mana into the great circle.
“Would you like an explanation?” came a voice from behind me.
I turned to discover an elderly priest with a serious face. I assumed from the two younger priests attending him that he had a bit of status.
“Yes, if you would. Bur first, could I get your name?”
“My apologies. I lead the temple scholars. My name is Worion. I am responsible for overseeing this ceremony.”
I’d heard that the scholars were priests who conducted various forms of research for the temple. To compare to my own world, they were something along the lines of national researchers.
“I’ve no doubt this ceremony is the result of years of research by your scholars, so it’s an honor to hear the details from someone as prestigious as yourself. What are the priests doing right now?”
The head scholar replied solemnly, “They’re pouring mana into the circle.”
Just as I’d guessed.
“Wait, that’s it?” Meg blurted. Perhaps an attendant who intruded on their lord’s conversations lacked a bit of self-awareness.
“Yes, that’s it, young lady,” Worion calmly replied. He likely didn’t know who she was, or else he wouldn’t have called the Proxy Lord of Morsharz young lady. “It may not seem like much to you, but it took us more time than you can imagine to conclude that this was how we should proceed.”
I was beginning to wonder what others thought of me, leading around a cross-dressed young woman of marriageable age as my attendant.
The priest explained, “At first, we had absolutely no knowledge about the magic circle’s functions. Even now, we don’t understand what a majority of its symbols mean. It was only recently that we determined the right points at which to inject mana.”
He pointed at his feet. “Take this symbol, for instance. It is repeated in two hundred and forty-three places on the circle, but it is still uncertain exactly what it does. The fact that we can carry out the ceremony despite our imperfect understanding is thanks to the work of the former head scholar, Saint Magos. He managed to partially decipher a number of documents retrieved from the old capital, though, of course, much in those documents remains to be decrypted. By carefully comparing the diagrams with his own knowledge of magic circles, he formed a theory on how to incorporate the mana from ley lines into fundamental charging points. Thereby—”
Worion’s tone was gaining in intensity. Once he got going on this subject that he felt so passionate about, I could tell he wouldn’t stop.
When I saw him pause to take a breath, I interrupted him. “I see. Could I ask more about what’s being done now, specifically?”
“Hero, are you aware of the Saint Boregan’s Chalice?”
“No, sorry, I haven’t been in this world very long.”
“Of course. How about you, young lady?”
I saw his stern old face grow somewhat softer, as if he were looking at a granddaughter. Don’t be fooled by her appearance, I warned him in my head. Perhaps Meg looked like a good-natured young lady, but she was exactly the sort one needed to remain wary of.
“Yes,” she said. “It’s used at the start of every year.”
Worion seemed satisfied by her simple answer, and he carried on with his explanation.
“It is said that the chalice was designed by Saint Boregan, who was head scholar ten generations ago. It was meant to caution and teach the greedy. As for what it actually is, it would probably be easier if I showed you.”
Worion turned and gave an order, and shortly, two of his attendants came forward carrying a peculiar cup and a pitcher.
“This is Saint Boregan’s Chalice. Hold it, if you’d like.”
The metal chalice was deep and strangely shaped, featuring a column in the center of its bowl with an elaborate dragon head at the top. I flipped the cup over and found a hole in the base. Some sort of tube seemed to run through it. From what I could tell, the object didn’t give off any mana. In what way was this artifact supposed to instruct the greedy?
“Please, play the part of a greedy man, and pour as much drink as you’d like.”
This time I was handed the pitcher. There wasn’t anything strange about it, no odd details or features. It contained only water, but for the sake of his demonstration, I was no doubt meant to pretend it was wine.
I carefully filled the cup to about half. Nothing unusual occurred.
“Remember, you are a greedy drinker. Would such a small amount satisfy you?”
At Worion’s urging, I poured more, and all of a sudden the chalice began to empty at the bottom. I stopped pouring to see if that would change anything, but the water continued to flow, and in no time, the cup was empty.
“Isn’t that interesting? If your greed gets the better of you, you lose all you had.”
I examined the cup further, and this time, I noticed a small hole at the base of the column inside the cup as well. So, it was a siphon. Now that I thought of it, I was aware of similar novelty items in my own world. They were called Pythagorean cups, or greedy cups.
I said, “There’s a space inside the column with a pipe that runs from the base to the top, where it turns and runs toward the bottom of the cup.”
“What sharp eyes you have, Hero. You’re precisely right. If the cup is filled beyond a certain point, the liquid will be forced up and then down through the column and emerge underneath.”
I remembered hearing something back in school about the trick having to do with fluid mechanics and gravity. Did they understand the actual physics here?
“A similar phenomenon can be created using a chain. First, you coil a chain on a high platform, then lift one of its ends even higher. Then, release that end over the edge of the platform. The rest of the chain will climb up to the end’s original height, then flow downward in a self-pouring fountain until all the chain runs out. Something like this occurs with mana, but in this case, height is not physical height but a certain concentration of mana.”
This explanation didn’t seem to register with Meg, who had tilted her head as she listened in on the conversation. To be honest, I didn’t completely get it either, but I understood the gist of what he was illustrating.
“In short, you’re pouring in mana to fill the pipe to the point of redirection.”
“As expected of a hero. You catch on quickly.”
If the amount of mana directed by the priests exceeded a certain threshold, apparently the mana of the land’s ley lines would begin flooding over into the magic circle. For once, knowledge from my old world was proving useful.
“How much mana will you need to restart it?”
“Yes, well, we were able to gather more priests than anticipated, so…” The head scholar thought for a moment. “Three months of work should do it. We will likely finish before the snow thaws.”
A kneeling priest with a face pale from effort stood up and staggered over to a rest area. Another priest quickly occupied his vacancy to keep the pouring of mana unbroken.
Three months of this? It was going to be a harsh winter for these clergymen.