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[libraryofcirclaria]

Introduction: The Confession of Rickard Alexander Stevenson

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

02 March 1086

To the Brothers and Sisters of the Guild of Pagewriters, Chapter of Combria:

By the time you see this letter, I will be far away.

I am the shadow who emerged to send James Lawrence Kontacet I to the Netherworld Dimensional Plane.

I was your Protector. James was my best friend.

But on the evening of October 1, I had a dream in which I was approached by a divine being who was neither a man nor a woman, who commanded me by mandate of the Great Author of our Multi-verse to venture to the summit of Mount Carris. Stricken by fear, I obliged and stole into the night to cross the border into Wannonia undetected. I traveled by foot, which took many days. But finally I arrived to the Mount in the middle of winter and climbed my way to the Great Pine where there was rumored a Divine Oracle giving visions of the future.

I came to the foot of the Pine and called to summon the Oracle, to which the divine spirits of the Mount responded with a sudden storm and a great crash of lightning which smote down the Great Pine that stood since the dawn of time. Out of the Stricken Pine emerged the very same divine spirit of my dream, who cast upon me a cloak that gave me vision of the world in which lived the Author, not the Great Author, but the Author who wrote our page of the world of Circlaria, its being and history.

I saw the Plain Truth, more real than the reality, itself, in which we live, the future for the world we call Circlaria. And it is grim.

James Lawrence Kontacet I, Dungeonmaster and Supreme Protector of the Guild of Pagewriters, Chapter of Combria, is, himself, the Master Pagewriter.

It was initially a cause for relief and joy on my part. For years I have been made to believe, and for decades we have all been made to believe, that his rival, the Master Pageturner, was going to hasten the Anomaly and destroy all of humanity. Not just bringing about the end for humanity in Circlaria, but the end for the very Thread of the Conscience of Humanity of the Multi-verse, the Great Book of the Multi-verse and its Pages upon one of which our world of Circlaria resides, as well as their Books and Pages.

The very end, in fact, of the Great Author, himself.

We all know, of course, that neither the Master Pagewriter nor the Master Pageturner was morally corrupt or evil. We know there is no Great Evil One, like a perceived Great Evil One falsely believed and feared by the Alconist Church of the Edoran Kingdom. But nonetheless, we have been made to believe that the Master Pageturner, though acting upon good intent, was catastrophically misled in such intent, and has been leading his following Pageturners into doing acts that hasten the Anomaly rather than save us from it. And we, the numerous Chapters of the Pagewriter Guild, have sought to find and follow the man embodying the Master Pagewriter and to help him find and defeat the man embodying the Master Pageturner by banishing him to the Netherworld, thus slowing down the destructive Anomaly and saving us all.

But then I saw the Plain Truth as conveyed by the Oracle of the Great Pine.

I saw the future of Circlaria, in which Kontacet, the Master Pagewriter, had influenced us as Follower Pagewriters, into creating and crafting dymensional planes. And of course this is true, for the Dungeonmaster has been influential for all of us, and we all enjoy meeting with him for our TableQuest sessions. But Kontacet has been inspiring us to evaluate ourselves and our dymensional plane world-building methods, and to move to further perfect them. I then saw that we builders inspired a future generation of dymensional plane builders, who further perfected the craft of dymensional plane building and inspired a generation of their own to do the same. And so two centuries passed with such progress in our technology and perfection in our beloved crafted being made, at the end of which the dymensional planes created were that of worlds, or versions of our world, no different from the original written by our Author. And furthermore, these were dymensional planes in which we could immerse our bodies and consciences, and actually live and interact.

It was at that point, two centuries in the future, that the Anomaly began to manifest itself in full.

Such doom would start with a prodigy world-builder, a man of modest origin but with a genius ability in academics, who believed, and began preaching to his fellow dymensional-plane builders, that the worlds they created were, in fact, as real as the world in which they lived from birth. Then people began to lose the ability to discern which world they lived in, as their consciences began drifting between worlds, unable to hold onto one in terms of which one to perceive. To others around them, these afflicted individuals would be seen as having a disease, suffering from some form of viral epidemic that rendered a victim unable to function in terms of basic behaviors like eating, or even breathing. These people would die as the apparent Pandemic would spread. Sadly, there would be no cure found because in truth, this was the Anomaly in full force and unstoppable. Before long, all of humanity in the world of Circlaria would fall, leaving the world barren and devoid of life as the Anomaly claimed its first Page of the Multi-verse. After this point, the Anomaly would gain speed as it consumed Page after Page until, finally, it disintegrated the last of the Thread of Consciousness at which point the Great Author, having created the Multi-verse, would, himself, cease to exist.

There would, of course, be warning signs of this impending calamity. Most notably, another Great Tree, this one standing in a courtyard of academic excellence, will be smitten down by a great bolt of lightning.

But all of this is in the future, and therefore has not yet come to pass. Nor would it ever, according to the nameless divine being, if the Master Pagewriter were to be banished. In other words, the Pageturner Guild was right all along.

In the weeks that followed, after a great deal of effort, I managed to build a portal to the Netherworld, and established a key to it in my talisman, to be activated at the simple discharge of Stun Spell. Thus, as I had hoped, using said talisman and striking James Lawrence Kontacet I would open said portal in his place and banish him instantly.

As all of you probably now know, I tossed a stone through the window of the South face of the House of Mason and stole into the hallways late last night. Fellow Protector John Kearney tried to stop me. I dared not strike him with a Stun Spell for the Portal Key was a one-time use and would therefore be spent. I used a Shield Spell which deflected his spell toward him. Then I barged into the main room where Master Pagewriter Kontacet stood on his Dungeonmaster Podium facilitating our TableQuest session, pulled out my talisman, and made my attempt.

And yes. I know that I missed.

The discharge grazed his left ear. He fell to the floor, still in this dimension of reality. I knew then that I missed my target, my chance spell, all for nothing. And now that there is news of the incident, I know that the Leon family, the Second Pillar of the House of Masons, will step up police forces to protect all of you, the House of Masons, and the Kontacet family. I will never get my opportunity again.

So now I realize that I had attempted to serve my purpose: to protect all of you. But I failed.

Your Dungeonmaster is the Master Pagewriter. He will be the reason for the destruction of our world, our Multi-verse, and the Great Author, himself. But I am no longer able to protect you after what happened, because I know that all of you are far too influenced by the very threat under your noses to believe the Truth that I am relaying to you. In fact, I doubt this letter will last long before it gets burned, and I get labeled as a madman, ultimately forgotten after my inevitable departure.

My only hope is that someone in the future will realize what is happening and rise up to put a stop to Kontacet, or at least to stop his influence if it so persists after his eventual death from old age many years from now.

Regardless, everything has become clear. And I, now a Pageturner, hope to hide in some unknown corner of the Circlarian Realm until I devise an inter-dimensional portal for my escape. For now I dread what is to come, and wish to at least give my part of the Thread of Consciousness some more time to exist and carry on before my eventual destruction from the Anomaly.

To anyone reading this letter who may still love me, this is goodbye, for I wish to leave no trail and will therefore travel alone.

Sincerely from your Friend and Protector,

Rickard Alexander Stevenson

-> Beginning: Deborah and Thomas Mack ->

[libraryofcirclaria]

08 September 1281

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

Story Six: Meona Bell

I'm trying to piece together what happened since I last wrote. Everything Ivella told me when I first woke up in the University Hospital Wing made no sense to me. How Carter almost caught her...how she got away...her background...

I have somewhat of a vague memory of the Caucus Chamber. It was on fire. Or was it just smoke and sparks? Was that yesterday? Or was it last week? Or a month ago?

I know that Daniel Carter and Julian got into a fight? But why would they be hurling spellfire discharges at each other?

Or was it Kara Martins? Yes. I remember now. Carter wasn't there. Or maybe he was on the Dais. And then Kara lashed out at Julian. First, it was shouting. Then it was spellfire dueling.

Wait. No. Ceri Mains was there. And she attacked them both. She barged in. Either that or one of her cronies slipped into the Chamber among other Members. I don't remember Ceri emerging from the Audience Section though. She was just spontaneously there.

Ivella is telling me that the later in time I think, the worse it is. So I need to go back to the beginning, the morning of September 6.

That does seem clearer to me. So here goes, 1281 September 6:

Shortly after breakfast came a knock on my Guestroom Door. To my complete surprise, I saw standing at the door a very aged version of Daniel Orville Carter, himself.

"Meona now, is it?" he said. When I answered, he shook my hand and gave me a hug. "A very beautiful addendum."

"I didn't know you'd respond so quickly," I said.

"To what?" Carter said, finding himself a seat. "If you sent a message, I never got it. I was staying up the road from here since yesterday. I picked up on your name over the phone with Dungeonmaster Julian." Carter reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. "By the way, I also have an important letter from Miss Ivella; and I need to take this to Julian in person. As you can see noted, we are not to mention this letter to anyone but Julian and his close company. And no one but Julian may open this letter and read it."

"So you've come to get me to take with you to Julian?" I asked.

"You seemed to have read my mind," Carter said, standing up again. "I'm afraid I have no time for coffee and biscuits if that's what your plans were. We'll have that later."

The Campus Watch checkpoint was still up. In fact, they stepped things up by doing a more thorough search of our bags and persons. Within a very short amount of time, however, we were in Dungeonmaster Julian's Office, where Carter handed Julian the letter and ordered him to read it.

"Finally, a sign from her," Julian said grudgingly but relieved. "Right on the day of my big talk." But when he read, the look of relief fell from his face, which turned pale and blank. With his hand shaking, he handed the letter to me. "Meona. Tell me what you make of this."

I looked at the letter. Apparently, Ivella Ogden boarded an airship in Clareon, the capital of the Mid-Westerlies, and intended to ride a flight to Savel, from where she would take a cable train to Ereautea. However, the airship she was on experienced an engine failure, forcing them to make an emergency landing in the island-nation of Monassa. That was, of course, a customs nightmare for her, because Monassa has been an independent country since 1249. So she had to wait for a copy of her passport to be mailed to her.

In addition to that, there was also heavy traffic due to summer travels; so Ivella had to wait a week before finally boarding an airship back to Savel, putting her hopelessly behind schedule.

I read the second part of the letter aloud but in a quiet voice: "...However, Julian, you don't need to be afraid, and I'm saying this for two reasons: first, I know Mary Kormann very well, much more than you think. Despite her demeanor and appearance, she is very resilient. Ceri Mains is no match for her.

"Second, in watching and even involving myself in the protection of the Cabotton community during this uncertain time, I've been made aware, much to my surprise, that Ceri Mains actually has no intention whatsoever to harm Mary Kormann or otherwise infiltrate the Society, despite what certain media sources may say.

"I cannot explain why I am saying this in this letter because that involves disclosing dangerous information that I cannot risk being leaked in the unlikely event that this message gets intercepted, but I promise that I will speak with you when I finally arrive, at which point everything will make sense. In the meantime, I must ask something unusual of you. And that is to have, what you may deem, blind faith in what I've told you and to use your best judgement given the circumstances.

"I will hopefully arrive by this coming Sunday, September 9. Again, once I explain everything in person, you will be left with no more questions on the matter. Sincerely, Ivella Marie Ogden."

Julian shook his head. "That...this just...None of it makes sense," he said hysterically. "At all...I have to be on the podium in..." Julian paused and looked at his watch. "Ninety minutes!" Julian stood up and began to pace frantically. "Ninety minutes from this very moment! I have to reassure the Caucus that everything is going to be alright! And then I have Kara Martins and those other buffoons to deal with!" Julian snatched the letter from me, crumpled it up, and threw it at the wall. "That daft woman, Ivella! How could she say this!? How could she be in complete denial!?"

"She is running that darkfire sanctuary, you know. I'm afraid it's possible she may have been swayed," Carter said, and for a brief moment, I remembered back to when Julian had mentioned that diplomacy was questionable between the two figures.

"What do we do, Daniel Carter? Meona Bell?" Now there was desperation in Julian's voice.

"You're a Dungeonmaster now," Carter said. "Think!"

"Oh great!" Julian said sarcastically. "Thanks for your encouragement!"

"Let's talk to Mary Kormann," I said suddenly, standing up and lifting a calming hand to both of them. "Let's see if she has some words of encouragement to say...to the Caucus, I mean."

"You're starting to sound like Ivella now," Julian said accusingly.

"Do you have a better alternative, Mackwell?" Carter asked sternly.

Julian paused and sat back down. It seemed that he shrank and grew weaker. "Fine," he said. "Let's try Mary."

It was overcast and thundering, I remember. Small scattered thunderstorms was what the Weather Bureau called for. With that and the tight schedule, we made our way briskly to Mary Kormann's dormitory, located in Fleming House.

It was there where I met Dyla Cormick for the first time. She introduced herself and said that Mary was busy at the moment. Just then, Mary came out of her bedroom, accompanied by a tall and somewhat muscly figure named "Parker."

"Who are you to Mary?" Carter asked Parker. "Friend? Boyfriend?"

"Nah," Parker said. "Friend since childhood?"

"Who are you?" Mary asked, pointing at Carter and hiding behind Parker. "Are you a Ceri Mains thug?"

"Quite the opposite," Carter said. "I'm here to make sure Ceri doesn't get to you."

"Are you sure?" Mary asked. "I don't trust you."

Carter turned to me and Julian and said, "I'll remove myself out of sight for the time being. Call me when you're done."

I remember at that point wondering if Parker, himself, was actually a Ceri Mains accomplice influencing Mary. I almost tried to pull Julian aside to voice that concern but Julian was already in conversation with Mary. He was explaining to her how Ivella did not have answers yet.

"But she's aware of you and your safety, and is working on a solution," Julian concluded. "In the meantime, everyone else in the Caucus is scared too. We need to say something to them to make them feel better. Mary, what would you say right now to make them feel better?"

"Oh...well...I don't know...Let me think." Mary paused, sat down, closed her eyes and said, "Think...think...think..." repeatedly for the next few moments. "Oh I know," she finally said, springing to her feet and smiling gleefully like an eight-year-old. "I'd tell everyone everything you told me. And then I'd tell everyone how I have you and you and you and all these other friends to protect me." She pointed to me, Julian, and Parker when she said her last sentence. "It's just...I'm really shy..." Then she whispered, "I don't want to be on the Podium."

"You don't have to be," Parker said, gently patting her on the back. "Julian'll speak for you."

"Parker's right," Julian agreed. "I've got you there, Mary. Thank you for helping me figure out what to say though."

I called Daniel Carter back. It was twenty-five minutes before that meeting was due to start, so we set off, once again, at a quick pace.

On the way over, we talked about how things would go with this important moment. Before long, it was agreed upon that Daniel Carter, Dyla, Mary, and I would sit on the Dais by up in the front by the Podium while Julian stood and gave his speech. Meanwhile, Parker would be sitting in the Audience Section to give Mary encouragement with the presence of a friendly face.

I remember the thunder being a little louder and a little closer, though not as intense as the storm that destroyed that Great Oak Tree. Nevertheless, there were two reasons to hurry.

On the way over, we walked by a couple of Campus Watch Officers. No doubt, they were stepping up patrols since the news of Ceri Mains in Gentry County. It was all very scary for Miss Kormann, though, and I saw her flinch.

"Are those Ceri Mains thugs in disguise?" Mary asked.

Parker put a comforting hand on Mary. "Rest assured they are not," he said.

"And neither is Daniel Carter," I added. For a quick moment, I pulled them aside and flagged down one of the Watch Officers, who shook Mary's hand and gave a friendly reassurance.

"She thinks I'm one of Ceri's thugs," Carter added.

"Oh wow," the Officer laughed. "Carter's been here a million times. If he was an accomplice, we would've caught him by now."

It was when we entered the Side Hallways lining the Caucus, which was full and ready for Julian's big speech, when Daniel Carter bugged out.

"Gotta go," he said quickly. "Start without me. I'll join in the audience later."

Right when we needed his presence the most, I thought to myself.

Nevertheless, we entered the Chamber through the side door next to the Dais. The crowd fell to a murmur, expecting Julian to make his moment. Julian ascended the Dais first, then came myself, and then the other three.

"I'm okay with just Meona, you, and Julian," I heard Mary say. I turned around behind me. "Parker's not here but that's okay," Mary said to me.

That's when I realized that I did not remember seeing Parker since we were outside. But I didn't have time to think on that.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to 'make a commitment' after all," someone said. I turned to the audience and saw that Peter Crane and Kara Martins were standing together in the front row to my left.

"Roll call!" shouted the Bookkeeper on the Podium now before I could say or do anything.

I never got a chance to know who the current Bookkeeper was or his name. He was clearly one of the professors, though, as a few Society Members are, and this one was nearing retirement.

I remember, now, whispering to Julian how they needed to change how that was done. The Dungeonmaster called the first 100 Members on the Roster; and as soon as 100 vote present, the session would begin. Julian was about to respond when a large clap of thunder outside startled the Caucus.

"Order please," the Bookkeeper said. When he finally finished, he yielded the Podium to Julian. And so Julian began his speech.

"I understand the fear, and yes it feels omnipresent," Julian began. "But rest assured, we, all of us, are constantly vigilant in protecting the Society given the situation. I have spoken with Ivella Ogden recently. She does not yet have a concise answer, but she has shelved all of her other commitments in order to focus on what is best for the Society-"

"Like what!?" Kara Martins cut in. And that was how it started. I'll never forget her shouting that, the sound of a few dozen Members shouting in support of her, and the Bookkeeper telling her to sit down and be quiet. She rounded on the Bookkeeper. "Oh so you're part of it too?"

"The Dungeonmaster is speaking!" said the Bookkeeper. "I said sit down and be quiet!"

"You and Ceri will not subjugate me!" Kara shouted, barging out into the Center Aisle. "You know about the thing with the Academy strike, right? All the faculty across all the schools are thinking of it as I speak! It's coming, I tell you! Now's the time for all of you to rise up too! Rise up and bring down these evil cronies!" She pointed at us as she said those last two words.

"Stewards! Take her away!" the Bookkeeper called amidst the growing tumult in the Audience. This turned into an uproar as the Stewards went in to take away Kara out into the Side Halls.

Suddenly, someone ran into the Chamber, shouting, "Ceri Mains has been reported on Campus!" This made the uproar in the Chamber turn into screams and panic.

"Order! Order!" the Bookkeeper shouted. "Everyone remain in their seats! This session is suspended until further notice! Stewards keep Kara in the Hallway once we resume!"

But those words were no good. Just at the moment, the Campus Watch arrived.

"Session will resume tomorrow!" the Bookkeeper shouted.

"This building's being evacuated!" an Officer called. "Everyone leave now!"

"Except you!" another Officer said, pointing at Mary. "We need to speak with you!"

Mary tried to squirm away. I tried to take her hand and calm her, but she took out a talisman and hurled a Stun Spell discharge at me. I did not expect that, but somehow I dodged that first hit and dove behind a seat. Campus Watch Officers tried hitting Mary with their rounds of Stun Spells but Mary had a good Shield Spell. Then she saw me and hurled another Stun Spell discharge, which hit me square in the face.

Next thing I remembered was waking up in this Hospital Wing.

"You were emotionally swayed, Meona," Ivella said to me. "You knew something was off with her appearance. She is a prodigy, this Ceri Mains, but disguise as a different person is not one of her strengths. You picked up on that, but you were under 'darkfire entrapment,' which dominated your emotions. And that inhibited your ability to act on what would have been your logical instinct. That is what I assume happened with you, anyway."

"You're not that far from the truth," I said.

So I learned from Ivella many things having elapsed since Thursday night. First, Ceri Mains, despite being surrounded by scores of Campus Watch Officers in that Caucus Chamber, managed to escape, and is currently at large.

And I still can't fathom the idea of Mary Kormann actually being Ceri Mains in disguise.

Second, Daniel Carter is in pursuit. I realized now that I was not the only one suspicious of that figure named Parker. It turns out that Parker was actually Kevin Mains, the cousin of Ceri Mains. Carter picked up on this on our way into the Caucus Chamber when Kevin Mains slipped away from us unnoticed. Carter noticed and went after him, which was why Carter had to leave us.

And they confronted each other. Apparently, Carter tried to stop him, but Kevin Mains turned around and struck him with a Stun Spell.

I thought back to the clap of thunder I heard during the roll call. Perhaps that's what I heard.

And apparently, Ceri Mains and Kevin Mains were, in fact, tied to the ongoing Weyne-North feud. I requested news periodicals brought to me so that I could read up.

So it began between the years 1200 and 1230 that both the Weynes and the Norths had moved out into what was considered the territory of the former nation of Wannonia as part of the big Combrian Settlement plan. There was a competition between the two families to have the highest value in property held, especially with land.

At one point, the Weynes bought partial farmland from the North family. On that plot was built a house at the end of a long driveway; this would come to be 1093 Cunningham Drive. The surrounding land was empty and remote but was eventually developed into the town of Orsbendock in the Province of Nintel. The driveway was converted into an actual street and the house became the address of 1093 Cunningham Drive.

So the Weynes built the house, hiring workers from the North family with the deal that the Norths would be allowed to live in that house for rent paid to the Weyne family. The Norths agreed to this. However, once the house was finished and they moved in, the Norths discovered that they had to share the household with Weyne tenants who claimed partial residence. Furthermore, rent was too high. As a result, the Norths handed a list of grievances to the Weyne landlords, who responded by deeming the North tenants to be a nuisance and evicted them.

The first Holz Finzi incident in the year 1237 left an opportunity for the North family to retaliate, because numerous members of the Weyne family had Involuntary Darkfire Conjuration Syndrome. The Norths convinced the surrounding community to label the Weynes and had the local government at the time blacklist them from their property holdings at the time and hand them to the North family. This gave the North family 1093 Cunningham Drive.

Then came the Retunian Revolution, which began in 1238. Once that war passed, won by the Retunian Republic, which established itself in place of the old Combrian government, the new government did away with "family condemnation," meaning that the Weyne family could regain some of their properties.

This did not include 1093 Cunningham Drive, however. That still remained under possession of the North family because in that time, there was a will written on it. The Weynes would have received it back regardless since they were technically the original owners, but the Weynes never wrote a will on it. And thus, 1093 Cunningham Drive became became a point of contention between the two families in the decades to follow.

By the 1270s and 1280s, the North family had members living in various locations throughout the Eastern part of Nintel, particularly in North Kempton, where they had particularly strong social connections; and they were quite the sociable family, apparently, having connections across all the places where they lived. Meanwhile, the Weyne family was more spread out, having residences in that same area but also in Gymia and Western Ereautea. Half of the Weyne family has the Darkfire Syndrome, half of whom reside in the Mount Carris Perimeter. And of the combined afflicted Weynes living inside and outside of the Perimeter, about half are in some way involved with the dangerous darkfire cartels.

The Weynes, like the Norths, are also sociable, but are popular with the marginalized Darkfire Syndrome demographic.

So tension had been building between the families over the past 100 years or so, but had been mounting especially between the 1250s and now. The Weynes had felt that the Norths would, at some point in the years to come, lobby both the County and Provincial legislatures to pass laws effectively bringing back "family condemnation." Though such legislation never materialized, many Weynes felt compelled to defend themselves by force, and began joining the community spellfire combat legions. Many of these legions, as we all know, charge tuition; and it's not cheap. Some of these Weynes turned to the darkfire cartel market to help pay for those training courses.

There was felt a mutual benefit there, however, because some Weynes decided to delve completely into the darkfire market, utilizing the skills gained in the legions. This would ultimately lead to direct involvement with Ceri Mains.

Meanwhile, the Norths were aware that the Weynes were arming themselves. And so the Norths, themselves, began training in community spellfire combat legions. The difference here, however, is that the North family is reputedly evangelist, and vowed never to involve themselves with darkfire, securing donations from churches instead.

Concerning 1093 Cunningham Drive, the North family apparently carved out a perpetual will, which ultimately played a role in sparking all the violence in the first place. This was written by Roseanne North in 1274, and was certified by a court of law and dictated that the deed to the house, upon death of the owner, who go to the husband or wife; if there was no living spouse, then the deed would go to the oldest son, or the oldest daughter if there was no son. If the married couple in question had no children, then the house would go to the oldest son in the "extended North family."

Richard and Roseanne North, husband and wife, inherited the house in 1243, after which the perpetual will was crafted at some point. In 1259, Richard North died, thus the deed went to Roseanne. Then in 1276, Roseanne North died; the house then went to her daughter, Bella North Kormann, who was married to Jon Kormann but was still considered a North under the will, and was eligible as Roesanne's eldest daughter since Richard and Roseanne had no sons.

Nonetheless, with Bella's last name being Kormann due to the marriage, this inheritance was the first in the North family history that handed 1093 Cunningham Drive to an individual whose legal last name was not North.

On 22 March 1281, Jon and Bella Kormann were both found dead at 1093 Cunningham Drive, with the cause of death determined to be poisoning. Their murderer is still at large, to this day, and has not been identified. Regardless, Jon and Bella, both 35 years of age at the time of their deaths, had no children, nor did they have a will prepared of their own; and thus the perpetual will had to be invoked.

But therein stood the conflict of interest. There had been a change in Nintel Provincial Law concerning the definition of "extended family," which took effect on 1 June 1276. Before that date, Nintel Law considered the term, "extended family," to mean all direct relatives, including one's first cousin or closer, with the same last name as yours, regardless of whether or not your descendent had a different last married name in the event they don't write a will themselves; therefore, under this version, the house was to go to someone in the North family.

The Province of Nintel was, up until 1276, the only Province in the Retunian Republic to have Provincial Law defining "extended family" in this way. This apparently caused a headache in court cases involving property disputes between parties in different provinces. So Nintel, under pressure from the other provinces as well as the federal government, made a change to said law, which took effect on 1 June 1276, to define "extended family" to mean all direct relatives including first cousin and closer of either you or your spouse regardless of whether or not you write a will, under the pretext that a perpetual will now applies to you and not the original author of that perpetual will. This would mean that the house, in this case, would go to someone in the Kormann family.

Again, this created a point of contention. But the ultimate controversy was this: Roseanne North wrote out the perpetual will in November 1274, before the change in Provincial Law was made and took effect. The change took effect on 1 June 1276. And then Roseanne died on 2 June 1276.

Obviously, this controversy could not be resolved without legal intervention; so a case was made to John Trayne, Arbitrator in service of Tradehouse County, who stated that the deed shall be signed over to Henry North, based on the notion that Roseanne had the earlier definition of "extended family" in mind.

However, the Kormann family disputed this, stating that since Roseanne did not have an actual individual in mind to receive the estate in the event of the deaths of Jon and Bella, the residence should go to Robert Kormann in adherence to the will based on the "extended family" definition in place after the 1 June 1276 change, since Roseanne died on June 2. This drew a rebuttal from the North family, stating that the will was signed on 18 November 1274, meaning that regardless of whether or not Roseanne intended a certain individual as a recipient of the estate in the event of Jon and Bella's deaths, the earlier law needs to apply.

Within his bounds in accordance to law, Arbitrator Trayne could not resolve this dispute, and was forced to turn the case over to court for a proper hearing and trial. The first of these took place in the Tradehouse County Courthouse on 14 April 1281, during which both the Kormanns and the Norths voiced their aforementioned arguments.

It was at this point that there was a big hole in the Provincial law revealed with no statement covering whether the law should interpret the will based on when it was signed or based on when the author of the will died. And apparently the gap was present in both the earlier and later laws. Judge Mervin Tame, presiding over this case, stated that every possible written statement by Roseanne that can be found must be collected and combined with witness testimony from both sides regarding interactions with Roseanne to determine what Roseanne had intended. The court was to reconvene on 18 April.

During the time that elapsed, Ceriph Wayne apparently approached Todd Buorning, Head Juror of the case; and there was a jury there owing to the intensity of the controversy. Ceriph had apparently promised Todd a good retirement if he promised to do everything possible to ensure the Jury did not side with the North family. Todd had sent a ticker message accepting the deal in secret; and Ceriph replied with an extended message of thanks.

This, neither I nor anyone else out there in the world would have ever known, had it not been for Todd's apparent absent-mindedness. This earned him the reputation these days as the "worst Head Juror in history." Upon receiving the ticker message of thanks from Ceriph, Todd had this stashed in his personal briefcase, which he accidentally left on a chair at a small cafe in one of the smaller towns in Tradehouse County. An anonymous person very much interested in this case, spotted the briefcase and the message hanging out of it, and had this message delivered directly to the Desk of Judge Mervin Tame, himself. Tame ordered the entire message exchange pulled from the wires.

And so on 18 April 1281, the court convened again. The Judge read the entire message exchange publicly and then subsequently ordered Ceriph and Todd jailed. He then dismissed the whole Jury and declared a mistrial, ordering a second retrial to be scheduled for October of 1282 and also ordering that 1093 Cunningham to remain vacant.

Rochelle North was, obviously, of the North family, raised by their ideals. However, she never "fit in" with the North family or their traditions, especially of their evangelist faith. She was always seen by herself and others as a "rebel."

At some point, she began a romantic relationship with Adam Kormann, who was close friends with Robert and Edward Weyne. Of that group, Rochelle was the leader; and they reputedly became involved in the illegal darkfire trade.

On the evening of 21 April 1281, they broke into the residence of 1093 Cunningham Drive.

Roger North, cousin of Rochelle North, had a completely different outlook, being truly loyal to the North family and their values. He was aware of Rochelle's plan and intended to confront her when she carried it out. Roger had two friends: Christopher Morriston and Charles Grodd, the latter of the two, may I mention, was a very close friend of Cray Fenton.

So on 21 April 1281, Roger, Christopher, and Charles went to 1093 Cunningham Drive and confronted Rochelle, Robert, and Edward. Suddenly, as all six individuals were armed and trained with spellfire talismans, all hell broke loose.

No one is sure what exactly happened but the end result was that the back add-on section of the house caught fire, warranting a call to the Fire Department. They extinguished the flames before too much was damaged. But the outcome was tragic; for they had discovered that Rochelle North, Roger North, and Adam Kormann were killed. Christopher and Charles were taken to the hospital but both survived and recovered. The same held true for Robert and Edward Weyne, but evidence emerged leading to the arrest of the latter two.

Thus the feud ignited. On 1 May 1281, the Weyne family struck back with a spellfire attack on a group of the Norths in a street battle in Orsbendock. Both sides suffered a few deaths while both Norths and Weynes, and their friends, were arrested.

The Norths retaliated on 7 May 1281, during which Tom North lured Casey Weyne into what she thought was a blind date starting on an airship leaving the Tradehouse County Airfield. As she arrived at the Airfield Tram Station, though, she was ambushed by North family thugs. She had brought Weyne family thugs of her own for precaution, but the fighting was intense enough and in a significant enough public space that the feud started to gain national attention.

Nevertheless, the violence spread. On 17 May, deadly fighting between the Norths and Weynes and their friends took place in neighboring Lyndon County. Between 18 and 24 May emerged reports of deadly fighting in Tradehouse County, Lyndon County, and Worden County. Between 1 and 8 June, the fighting spread to Torrens County and West Front County in Ereautea, and also to Shon County in Gymia.

On 11 June, Prime Minister Edward Jackson addressed the crisis, which now spread into Dearing County, and declared a national emergency, placing all the counties involved thus far under direct martial law to be administered by the Retunian Civil Guard.

And then, on 12 June 1281, Ceri Mains escaped. As it turns out, she was aided by Charles Kormann, based on a ticker message exchange pulled by the authorities shortly after the September 6 incident.

Neither he, nor Ceri, nor her other friends are to be found anywhere at this time.

<- 05 September 1281 <- || -> 09 September 1281 ->

[libraryofcirclaria]

Story One: Daniel Orville Carter

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

04 September 1243

05 September 1243

06 September 1243

07 September 1243

08 September 1243

10 September 1243

19 September 1243

24 September 1243

07 December 1243

<- Beginning: Deborah and Thomas Mack <- || -> Story Two: Meon Bell ->

[libraryofcirclaria]

13 February 1287

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

Story Eight: Jeo Brock

Today's excursion with Rose Anne went a lot better than what I had feared.

Her avatar improved in her skills, and improved immensely, in fact. We did not fight enemies this time, but her concealment is almost as good as my avatar's, so we were able to dodge a few wolves that we encountered along the way.

Furthermore, we found a lot of information on Tom Pero's avatar; he actually never left Evernorth.

Instead, his avatar had created three daemons to travel to Cray Fenton's dymensional plane in North Kempton and do the job for him. Rose Anne and I followed the trail through the portal and into the dymensional plane version of North Kempton. Here, we discovered that nearly every avatar and daemon had accepted my card idea. My card idea was a big fashion there, in fact.

The only issue was that I could not find the avatars linked to Meona Bell and Sari Frame. I found avatars linked to their friends but they said that they had not heard from Sari, or Meona, or Cray.

"Is everything normal over there in the real North Kempton?" I asked an avatar named Sophie. "Or is something a bit off?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Sophie said. "Just the fact that someone tried to hack the phone lines here."

I tried to probe but Sophie knew nothing else. This was obviously something that I would need to check on tomorrow. In the meantime though, I was actually alarmed by how quickly the card thing was taking off here. And everyone seems to be aware of the portal. Also, since the authorities had been in communication with Rachele, along with my plan not being yet ready for the next phase, I took a wager and asked Rose Anne to keep the card thing a secret.

It was a dangerous move, but she agreed.

Right after I got back to my bedroom, and bade goodbye to Rose Anne for the day, I turned to my ticker and noticed a message had come in. It was from Cray Fenton; and to my relief, it was a message of reassurance. He discussed how Tom Pero's parents own a small jewelry franchise in Daylram, and how Tom's parent's house was also his grandparents' residence and how it was a rather large estate.

He then went on to explain how both sets of Tom's grandparents had left the nation of Prove during their Great Continental war. Apparently, they had been part of the democratic revolution against the Provan ruling class at the time, but though the Unjoy royal family was also supportive of this change, the grandparents were not on par with the Unjoy family. So they moved to the Great North.

Cray then explained in his message that when the borders closed, he tried to have his avatar go out and try to make observations on his dymensional plane, as he was worried about infiltration from the Lykians. He tried to do this by dialing a certain code on his phone in the Great North into North Kempton, which you can apparently do. However, his attempt had been futile because his line to the other phone turned out to be blocked. He stated that he sent an urgent ticker message to North Kempton to call on Sari and Meona to check on that and had not heard a response since.

For a second, I was a bit skeptical, speculating that perhaps either Cray was forced to lie that he was alright or that someone else claiming to be him sent me that message. But then I thought back to Sophie saying that someone had tried to "hack" their telephone lines; and that made Cray Fenton's message believable.

<- 12 February 1287 <- || -> 14 February 1287 ->

[libraryofcirclaria]

24 June 1341

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

Story Thirteen: Nix Planen

Part Two: The Personal Journal Entries of Nix Planen

Albin Gene was charged with numerous counts of theft and oathcrafting, many of which he was convicted. He initially faced a stiff sentence, but his attorney managed to have it reduced to five months in prison, revocation of his Spellcrafter License conditional upon twenty-five years of demonstrated good behavior, a lifetime of required therapy and moral rehabilitation, and one hundred hours of community service.

Meanwhile, I have finally fully reconciled with Ron Glen and Helen Nichols. My avatar shall rejoin the Black Key Federation at the role and rank previous to the fallout last year. And I am content to have my avatar remain at this rank; I am no longer bent on promotion.

Also, as a perk, I managed to get back the gyroscope I purchased in Kronoston.

**END OF STORY THIRTEEN**

<- 17 April 1341 <-

[libraryofcirclaria]

17 April 1341

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

Story Thirteen: Nix Planen

Part Two: The Personal Journal Entries of Nix Planen

Both the Kontacet and Schraber families gave consent to have detailed information released regarding the spellcrafter cross, which I, by the way, had returned to the former. And the background story certainly never failed to interest me.

Alexander Kontacet, in 1276, commissioned for the spellcrafter cross to be made in "the Vaults" in Budlapeyay, Tandeiyah. The reason here was not disclosed to us. But regardless, Kontacet picked it up in person in October of that year and took it home to Jestopole. Five years later, in October 1281, Alexander Kontacet took it with him to an event in the Lerutan Theatre where, in the back of the audience, a masked figure threw a sack over Kontacet's head and forcibly took the spellcrafter cross from him. From this event arose a great deal of suspicion that the incident was tied to the Weyne-North feud. Despite the suspicion, the Kontacet family, wishing to avoid extra and unnecessary publicity, pulled ropes to have the press not give too much attention to the ordeal. Five months after the incident, an anonymous person found the spellcrafter cross along a sidewalk in a relatively dangerous area in the East side of Lerutan, Ereautea. The finder, in good faith, turned the cross back to the authorities, stating that it was found damaged. The thief who attacked Kontacet was never found or identified. Regardless, the authorities handed the spellcrafter cross back to Alexander Kontacet, who decided to fly it back to Budlapeyey to have it placed in a safe place in "the Vaults." He decided to wait until a later time to have it repaired.

The spellcrafter cross would not be repaired until the Kontacets decided to lend it to the Schraber family, the very same Schraber family, by the way, of whom one member is currently the Retunian Prime Minister.

The details here are not clear, but sometime between the 1270s and 1330s, Stephen Schraber, Alex Schraber's older brother, asked the Kontacet family to borrow said spellcrafter cross, thus the reason for the borrowing in the first place. The Schraber family would subsequently pay to have it repaired and restored. Accordingly, it was an essential tool to be used for some sort of field research project. In the course of that, the cross passed into the possession Kelvin Schraber, who took the spellcrafter cross with him to the Lerutan Theater in October 1338, where, once again, it was forcibly stolen in the same fashion. Very much like the Kontacet family, the Schrabers pushed for a wide search and investigation but also pulled ropes to have the press not give too much publicity. Only this time, the search turned up nothing.

It was not until my encounter with Albin Gene that the spellcrafter cross was found again.

We are still in the midst of figuring out the details of Albin Gene and how he came to infiltrate social networks as far out as Ereautea. But here is what we know so far.

Albin was a student at Cabotton University between the years 1334 and 1336, during which he was a Member of the Third Level Society. However, his reputation turned sour rather quickly as he voiced how convinced he was that he had a "higher calling." He joined the Pagewriter Guild in 1335, the same year he decided to run for the Third Level Society Dungeonmaster position. Fortunately, he would lose that election, after which he decided to terminate his Membership with the Society and focus more on getting some sort of a promotion in the Pagewriter Guild. His reputation here, however, turned notorious for very much the same reason. And in the spring of 1336, he was kicked out of the Guild.

At that point, he resolved to set down roots in Ancondria.

Upon moving to Kearney, Albin Gene became convinced, and was somehow able to persuade others around him, that he was the Master Pagewriter. He also formed a belief that, with Ancondria being the place of humanity's origin, he was called to establish a dymensional plane covering all of the known world of Circlaria, and to have that plane include a central point of origin in Ancondria. And by the time of my arrival, his dymensional-plane-in-progress had already covered all of Ancondria with great detail and accuracy.

Though he had a strong band of followers, Albin Gene sought to persuade more people, which he determined could be achieved with the spellcrafter egg. He commissioned an unknown source to have one made, but, such a commission would take time. Thus, Gene sought to dispatch a burglar to steal a spellcrafter cross already made. We still do not know the thief who carried out this act but we have an idea that it may have been some insider posing as one of Schraber's many trusted friends.

Regardless, we also know, through Gene's confession, that he had planned to recruit insiders within organizations like the Third Level Society in order to subjugate them from the inside out.

Though followers in this dynamic tend to take their own initiative once the said leader is eliminated or incapacitated, I feel satisfied that we have at least weakened Albin Gene's circle in Ancondria.

<- 19 January 1341 <- || -> 24 June 1341 ->

[libraryofcirclaria]

19 January 1341

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

Story Thirteen: Nix Planen

Part Two: The Personal Journal Entries of Nix Planen

Last Tuesday, after Pat and I were released from the hospital, we met with Peregrin and flew back to Ereautea. There, we met with Amanda Korgan in her Dungeonmaster Office, in person. Suffice to say, this meeting was joined by Ron Glen and Helen Nichols, with whom I am happy to say my reputation is on the mend. At this meeting, Helen agreed to volunteer to disguise herself as the supposed Dalia Nahmens. In the days since, we arranged for her to stay at a temporary address in Kearney while she would have a convincing profile on information like Dalia's supposed birth and a reason why she was visiting from Cabotton.

The plan would be carried out on 15 January, during which "Dalia" would make herself visible on the local Kearney OCEA platforms, thus increasing the likelihood that Albin would reach out to her. Helen would be physically at the said address at this point; and she would convince him to come to her place, where she would seduce Albin. The hope here was that Albin, in the course of removing his clothes, would take off his spellcrafter egg and set it aside somewhere. And thus, it would be incredibly easy for Albin to be caught without said tool.

So the 15 January plot got carried out, and much to our success. Albin took the bite, insisting in a creepy way to come to "Dalia's" place. Helen, as "Dalia," seduced Albin and enticed him to join her in bed. As planned, he took off his necklace, which, indeed, had a spellcrafter egg. In a playful way, "Dalia" snatched it and ran out of the room.

"Woah! Easy with that!" Albin apparently said. He ran out into the hallway after her, where he was caught and arrested by the authorities.

I presume it will be a few months before the courts decide what happens with Albin.

<- 08 January 1341 <- || -> 17 April 1341 ->

[libraryofcirclaria]

08 January 1341

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

Story Thirteen: Nix Planen

Part Two: The Personal Journal Entries of Nix Planen

Today, Pat and I met with Aiva Peregrin, a contract-agent of the firm formerly owned by the late Daniel Orville Carter. Whereas the firm of the past had dedicated to the enforcement of the morally-wrong darkfire prohibition, the business of independent spellcrafters, today, dedicates itself to the infiltration and undoing of oathcrafting criminals and their nefarious circles of influence.

Peregrin, after interviewing both of us, was not able to determine how Pat and I ended up going from Kearney to that ship out of Ramport, for Pat and I have no idea either. However, she was able to determine that the presence of both concealment and mind-control were carried out by a spellcrafter "egg," a tool even more powerful than a spellcrafter cross.

For a few hours, at least, we debated on how to intervene and stop Albin and his plight, though we never came to a consensus just yet. His address is now inaccessible to us; our guest-room address is still visible to us but is across the avenue from a narrow walkway between two other houses rather than his place. And Albin's OCEA account is blocked from us, except from Peregrin, who was able to locate it.

Suddenly, I remembered Albin's mention of a certain "Dalia Nahmens," his apparent soulmate.

"Spellcrafter eggs are known to cause the user, himself, to become deluded. There is a strong possibility that Dalia does not exist," Peregrin said.

"And is this why he may possibly be convinced that he, himself is the Master Pagewriter?" I ventured.

"Almost certainly," Peregrin said. "And it may be also explain the crazy beliefs he's indulged in, leading him to conspire with his circle to steal that spellcrafter cross."

Pat, in the meantime, relayed everything happening on our trip thus far to the Third Level Society Dungeonmaster: Amanda Korgan. And Korgan pulled us into an OCEA long-distance video chat, where we agreed to a certain plan. I will not write it here for now, for it is critical that the details be kept confidential.

<- 07 January 1341 <- || -> 19 January 1341 ->

[libraryofcirclaria]

07 January 1341

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

Story Thirteen: Nix Planen

Part Two: The Personal Journal Entries of Nix Planen

Pat, once again, advised me to recall, in written story format, everything that happened between now and my last entry made three days ago. So here I go.

***

It all started the following morning, January 5th I believe. Pat and I had received a message from the dymensional plane group in the Salon, asking for help in trying out avatars for the Ancondrian plane. Pat and I more than obliged. But it was a strange experience for me. The world in which my hurriedly-made avatar immersed felt too real to me. The sensation was bolstered when, after my avatar fell and scraped their knee, I discovered, after exiting the plane, that my knee was scraped as well. I was so emotionally jarred by this perceived trip in my thinking and perception, that I decided to take a break and spend a few moments in the Great Foyer. There, Albin grabbed my attention.

"Are you alright?" he said, touching my shoulder. "I know. You must be confused. I saw through the console...Come. I got something to ease your mind." He pulled me into a side room from the Foyer. And here, he showed me something I initially felt would hardly ease my mind at all.

It was "Agridbea," a card game based off of the practice of Spellfire Dueling. It was not a game I was strongly familiar with. But what I did know was that it was something having been played since the 1030s, and that its etymology was derived from the name of the nation, Agridbea, where nearly 3000 years of constant warfare between Conjurers led to the emergence of a profession of tactical dynamics.

Albin could tell I was not quite familiar; so he showed me the ropes. Accordingly, the game is played between two individuals, each of whom has an avatar card set. Each set contains one Arch-Chancellor, two Chancellors, four Conjurers, eight Casters, and sixteen Fighters, totaling thirty-one cards. There are, accordingly, two statuses that each avatar card can be in: "deployed" or "in-reserve." And each player was allowed to have as many avatars "deployed" or "in-reserve" as they best saw fit for their particular strategy, and can move any or a multitude of avatars between said statuses as willed.

The objective of the game is for each player to eliminate all cards of the opposing player. This is done by having the "deployed" avatars cast a particular spell against the opposing side, with hit point damage determined by the following dice rolls: two red dice rolled by the attacking side to calculate damage points generated against the other side, and two blue dice rolled by the defending side to calculate shield points against the attack. The blue points would then be subtracted from the red points to determine the net damage points. If the number of red points was higher than the blue, damage would be done on the defending side. If the blue points were equal to or higher than the red points, then the defending side would sustain no damage. For each generation of blue points and red points, the actual points generated was equal to the sum of rolled dice points times the number of "deployed" Fighters, the same dice points times the number of "deployed" Casters times two, the same dice points times the number of "deployed" Conjurers times four, the number of "deployed" Chancellors times eight, and the Arch-Chancellor (if "deployed") times sixteen. The net hit points, if any, would be divided as evenly as possible among the total number of "deployed" avatars on your side if you were the defending side, while a tally would be kept, tracking particular avatars and their remaining hit points. In this type of game, there is no opportunity for hit point regeneration, so the game is very survivalist in nature. And in the end, whichever side eliminates the Arch-Chancellor of the other side wins.

Per tradition, Albin and I agreed to play two rounds. Also per tradition, I, as the guest, made the wager for Round One: 600.00 credits. Accordingly per tradition, Albin, counter to my making of the wager, made the first move. I started with the deployment of two Fighters, who took hits. On my turn, I hit back, giving equal net damage to Albin, who had also deployed two Fighters. Albin struck back, causing both of my deployed Fighters to go down; so I deployed two more Fighters and hit back. This downed both of Albin's Fighters, to which he responded by deploying two Casters and a Conjurer. I was leery against matching him, even though my shield points blocked his damage. So I decided to have only one Caster join my two Fighters. That turn did significant damage to Albin's side, despite his stronger presence.

And so Round One continued. And before long, Albin was down just to his one Arch-Chancellor, which I defeated with a final blow. Per tradition, Albin handed over to me the 600.00 credits in hard cash. "Well, that took only thirty minutes," he told me. "Usually, this sort of thing takes hours." That remark dealt me a great deal of confusion because it seemed way shorter than even thirty minutes.

Regardless, we began Round Two.

"Your little souvenir," Albin announced as the wager.

"The...gyroscope thing?" I stammered.

"The very same one Pat said you purchased in Kronoston."

"How do you...? When...?"

"I'm sorry..?" Albin said sweetly, putting his chin in his left palm.

"Right," I said. "Onto Round Two, then."

Round Two was very much like Round One; except it was Albin winning, not myself. And it only felt like three minutes passed before my Arch-Chancellor went down.

"It's back in your room, isn't it," Albin said, getting up from his chair and going to the door. He opened it and called out to Pat. "The gift Nix got in Kronoston. It's due." He returned to his seat across the table from me and added, "You look awfully sad to be parting from that. You must be craving another Round...Oh what the hell? Best of three?"

"I'll go for it," was the answer that slipped from my mouth.

"Splendid!" Albin shouted with a dramatic clap of his hands. "And I'll give you an open choice. You can either wager your souvenir back from me...or you can wager something else..."

The alternative was obvious to me...too obvious. In normal circumstances, I would have avoided the most obvious choice for fear of playing into a trap. But the impulse, the drive, was too strong for me. And for some reason, one that I could not logically explain, I felt confident that I was safe. "Your spellcrafter cross," I said. "The one you got from Kontacet."

For a second, I felt a strong sense that I had made the wrong move, for Albin gave me a most condescending smirk. But then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the very same coin-like object I saw upon our first encounter.

"You mean Schraber?" Albin said.

Along my fear and confusion, I felt a wave of realization, of confirmation, and also of intense horror. Pat was right. He was right, and Albin chose to sway him in order to-

"No worries, my friend," Albin said. "I am not the criminal here. In fact, I am a good man. You could argue that I have a heart of gold, for I am not the guilty party having stolen this. I am protecting it for the Kontacet family. In fact, tomorrow, I will fly you back to Combria. We can take Mr Kontacet out to dinner, even." Albin put the cross back in his pocket. "Anyway, you have earned my trust; so you will have it in your possession should you win. Now lets play!"

Like in Round One, Albin took the first turn. The hit points awarded were like Round Two though, with me getting weak rolls and him getting the stronger.

The door opened at one point, revealing Pat, who tossed my gyroscope over. Albin caught it with his left hand and a "thank you," before dealing me another strong blow.

I realized that I was losing Round Three. I was not yet down to the Arch-Chancellor, but all my Fighters were down, all my Casters were down, nearly all my Conjurers were down. And I had both my Chancellors and Arch-Chancellor "in-reserve," but felt that I was going to be forced to deploy them soon.

Then, fortune turned. I noticed that Albin's rolls started getting weaker while mine started getting stronger. I began wiping out Albin's bigger players. Then he deployed his remaining players, including his Arch-Chancellor. Confident, I deployed my remaining cards.

Albin struck out my remaining Conjurer and one of my Chancellors, leaving my other Chancellor and my Arch-Chancellor the only ones standing. I rolled against Albin's side, striking down all of his cards except his one remaining Arch-Chancellor. He struck back, downing my Chancellor and leaving me, also, with my Arch-Chancellor alone. My next turn, I struck against his but it was not enough. Albin returned the blow, bringing mine critically close going down.

And then I got lucky. I delivered the final blow. Albin's Arch-Chancellor went down.

Albin laughed and laughed. "Not bad for a rookie," he said. Then he casually took out his spellcrafter cross and tossed it to me.

It felt too easy for me, though, despite Round Three feeling like a fair and even match. I looked at the spellcrafter cross...stolen property. However, it felt like a dud. It was not the weight nor the appearance, nor the feel. But something, in the back of my mind, felt like this was not genuine.

"You might want to double-check with Pat out there," Albin said to me. "He's gone outside and seems to be disoriented, under some oathcrafter influence of whoever is responsible."

***

So I went out, making to cross the street back to our guest suite.

And there he was, Pat Middleton, having lost all common sense, standing in the middle of the avenue, which was dangerously busy by the way. I attempted to pull him off to the side but then he told me that he could not move because, apparently, the decorative street lights were actually surveillance cameras for the Retunian government to spy on us.

"Well no matter, Pat. Get out of the damn street!" I said through gritted teeth. I pulled him so hard that when we were on the sidewalk, we both tumbled over.

Gunshots rang out.

Pat and I took off down the sidewalk. There were hedges on the right side, and Pat pulled me into a gap in these, where he slapped me in the face.

"Snap out of it, man!" Pat said. "Don't you realize how deluded you are? We live in a totalitarian state. We need to escape, now that we are 'awakened.'"

"You mean like the Combrian Confederation?"

"The Retunian Commonwealth, you idiot! Look around you. This is reality!"

Looking out from the hedges, I saw that the street block was, indeed, surrounded by wired fences, gun mounts, and loudspeakers. For the life of me, I thought that this was the way of life in the former Combrian Confederation, before it fell eight years ago. I thought the Retunian Commonwealth was the free, progressive, and democratic society. That reality still felt strong in me, but the reality around me at this moment felt even more vivid.

I knew, then and there, that my mind was being influenced from somewhere, somehow. I glanced down at the spellcrafter cross given to me earlier. And I remembered, suddenly, a moment earlier last year when I attended a clinic on spellcrafter crosses given by a member of the Kontacet family at Cabotton University. The presenter had even given a brief overview on how to use spellcrafter crosses, saying that while they could be used to engage in oathcrafting, they could also be used for counter-oathcrafting. So I took my spellcrafter cross in my hand and, with only that memory of the clinic to go on, tried to engage the item and work out a counter-influence.

"It's a dud," Albin said to me, having appeared out of nowhere.

I looked around and realized that I was in the middle of what looked like a park, at night, standing as a beautiful landscape of lawns, sidewalks, and street lamps, all illuminated under the green glow of Juno Major. Pat was nowhere to be found.

"Focus, Nix," Albin continued. "That spellcrafter cross is a dud. It was given to me by a thief who stole the real one from me while I slept. And I didn't know who that was till just now. I know who it is, now, and we have to catch him. He's the one influencing Pat!"

"Where is Pat?" I asked.

"I don't know..."

Just then, I heard a splash of water from behind me. I turned around and saw Pat, wondering aimlessly into the water.

"No!" Albin exclaimed. We both ran in and pulled Pat out. Albin and I relayed the situation to him.

"Insider!" Pat shouted, punching Albin in the face. "Insider for the Retunian State!"

"No, Pat!" I said. "Albin is one of us." Then, on the fly, I added, "The thief is the insider!"

"Pat is convinced that the Commonwealth is apparently a totalitarian state, Nix," Albin told me. "We have to catch this thief! He's in downtown Kearney. Nix, you can have the real spellcrafter cross once all is said and done, but don't show it to Pat while he is in his current state of mind." Confused, I simply followed Albin's lead, trying to forget the memories I had from moments before.

The park was about two blocks away from the downtown avenue of Kearney, which was lined with wired fences, surveillance cameras, and police patrols. And now my head was swimming in confusion. I started asking, "Wait. What the-"

"No time to lose!," Albin stressed, tugging me along and pointing ahead. "There he is! Our man!" Up ahead walked a black bear. "That's right, he's a form-fitter." Albin turned to face me. "Listen. I will run up over to the other side of the street from him and distract him. While's he's crossing the street, you hit him with a stun spell. How does that sound?"

I reached into my right pocket and found my talisman. It was then that I realized that I was already wearing my talisman brace on my right hand. I picked up the talisman and mounted it accordingly. "Very well," I said.

"Good. Now let's do this quick, before the guards notice!"

Albin took off down the street and began shouting at the bear. As planned, the bear charged across the street toward him, and then I sent my stun toward him, striking the bear straight in the head and knocking him down. Unconscious, his form began turning back into that of a human as Albin and I ran towards him.

It was Pat.

"I don't understand!," I said aloud. "I thought he was with us!" It was then I realized that between here and the park, Pat had...disappeared.

"Pat was infiltrated," Albin explained. "The one that disappeared on us was the infiltrator in disguise. He infiltrated the real Pat, here, into form-fitting into a bear, and planted the spellcrafter cross on him." He pulled off the spellcrafter cross from Pat and handed it to me. I studied it and knew, for sure, that this was the one stolen from Kelvin Schraber, for it had the proper trademarks and serial numbers.

"Wait!" Albin said, snatching it from me and biting it. He tossed it back to me. "This is a dud too. But I need you to have it."

"Why-?"

"No time to explain! The infiltrator must be found and eliminated!"

Just then, bright lights shone upon us. It was the totalitarian police swarming around the three of us in their armored vehicles. Officers from each vehicle leapt out and drew their weapons.

Just then, with apparent madness and to my confusion, betrayal, and terror, Albin pointed to me. "HE'S THE ONE! HE'S THE INFILTRATOR!" And then the police shot Albin dead.

Pat and I were nicked, thrown into one of their armored vehicles, and transported to some sort of prison complex in an unknown location. We were never given our charges nor were we interrogated. In fact, none of the cops spoke to us. Pat and I, however, were placed in the same cell.

I glanced toward the hard, concrete floor of the cell, where there lay a lone plastic cutlery knife. No logic was present in my thinking in that moment, but I had a strong intuition that this would somehow be our method of escape.

"You're crazy," Pat said just then, as if he was reading my mind.

Nevertheless, I took the plastic knife and started attempting to saw through the concrete floor, which, to my complete confusion, began cutting easily like cake. Pat stooped down and helped to pull chunks away. And without explanation, the floor turned into an upright wall, through which Pat and I stumbled and ended up on the metal deck of a modern-day pirate ship.

Intuition drove Pat and I to find the outdoors, where we thought to escape by lifeboats. That, we did, but not before the pirates, armed with high-level talismans, spotted us and attempted to capture is. Thus, spellfire discharges ensued as we fought our way out.

But escaped we did, successfully jumping onto a lifeboat and launching it into the water. And now we had to make for land.

We would never do that, though, for we were then arrested by the Retunian Coast Guard.

***

As it turned out, Pat and I were found aboard a stolen lifeboat off a normal commercial trading ship in the Bay of Ramport. And it was at that point when we realized that the notion of the Retunian Commonwealth being a totalitarian regime was, in fact, just an illusion, triggered by oathcrafting.

The authorities realized that we were victims in this, rather than perpetrators, and that we both needed medical attention. So we were transported to the hospital in Ramport, where they removed our spellcaster items for our safety. It was at that point when we realized the spellcrafter cross I had in my possession was the real thing, just deactivated. After a round of questions, I revealed to them how Albin Gene was in possession of it and had given it to me.

Ultimately, the diagnoses for both me and Pat was that we had both been swayed very deeply by measures of oathcrafting, and most certainly so by Albin Gene. We gave to them the address of Gene's address, but, as it turned out, the address did not officially exist. However, the authorities were able to determine that it did exist unofficially, just within a patch of land hidden by spellfire concealment.

Regardless, that is my story. And I certainly hope that the reality I am in now is the reality, and not yet another one of Albin's cruel mind games.

<- 04 January 1341 <- || -> 08 January 1341 ->

[libraryofcirclaria]

04 January 1341

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

Story Thirteen: Nix Planen

Part Two: The Personal Journal Entries of Nix Planen

"Please, tell me," Albin said with a grin, folding his hands in his lap. "What does bring you here?...You know...to Ancondria in the first place?"

We were in the smaller dining room in Albin's private quarters, located on the second floor of the residence. Pat and I briefly glanced at each other, quickly enough that Albin did not notice, and remembered what we rehearsed.

"Nix and I," Pat began. "Well...We were questing partners in the Arturian Realm. And we both came across your letter."

"Ah yes, of course. The Third Level Society," Albin said, leaning back a bit. "And I'm sure what I said in my letter hit home with you, with all the frivolous politics involved. I'm just curious, though, how bad have things gotten since my departure? I'm curious to learn of your experience...your side of the story."

I could not help but glance again at Pat. But Pat returned me a look of reassurance, as if saying that nothing would go wrong at this point.

Albin was nearest to me. He touched my hand to get my attention. "No one will judge. I promise: we are all friends here."

Despite my misgivings, I gave a detailed and accurate story of my time as a Third Level Society member, my rise and downfall, even including my short-lived romance with Helen Nichols-

"Sorry to interrupt," Pat said. "I am afraid that this very same Helen Nichols, for all of last year, was reinforcing the notion, a very false notion that is, that you, Albin, were a conspirator in the act of oathcrafting."

"Oh dear," Albin started.

I whipped around toward Pat with a look on my face that must have been shock and confusion. "You don't remember...?" Pat said to me.

"It's fine," Albin said, touching my hand again. "You clearly must have had the notion in your head this entire time without considering the source. Or perhaps your mind was bent toward the wrong source. But alas, that is a consequence of having fallen victim to oathcrafting. We won't judge you, Nix. We are here to help you, to bring you back to your senses so that you may turn and defeat your source of infiltration."

Pat rose from his seat and paced to a location between myself and Albin. Pat put his hand on my shoulder. "You need to understand, Nix. The Pageturner Guild has a death grip on the Third Level Society. As I speak, they are sowing confusion among the masses through oathcrafting. Every Member, including yourself, has been swayed. I was, too, for a time; and it was only recently that I finally was able to overcome the chains that held me."

"Divide and conquer," Albin added, looking sympathetic toward me. "That's what they do, both Guilds actually but more-so the Pageturners. Have you taken time to learn the history?"

Now Pat put his hands on both of my shoulders. "I think, Albin, that Nix's mental endurance for the day is spent."

"Indeed," Albin replied. "We will continue at a later time."

***

"How long have you and Albin been in league!?" I asked Pat back at our private guest quarters.

"I was the same as you till today," Pat said. "You know that with every argument, even from those we are made to despise the most, I always take a microsecond to view the argument from the perspective of the opponent. Ninety percent of the time it reinforces what I believe in the first place. But with the other remaining ten percent, as in with this incident, I have a revelation. In this case, everything adds up, if you think about it."

"What...? I don't understand. And don't you remember? What about the spellcrafter cross?"

"We will figure that out later," Pat assured me.

***

So I've turned in for the night; and needless to say, I am very confused.

Up to this point, Pat was more cautious even than I regarding the dangers of oathcrafting. But now Albin and Pat seem conspiring together to try and convince me that I was perhaps deeply swayed myself, and that Pat was an extension of Albin trying to pull me out of that abyss.

But that does not address the fact that Pat did not know Albin any longer than I did. And for him to have a sudden revelation like that? In the fifteen months that I've known him, Pat is not known to suddenly change his mind. Any "revelation" like that, Pat takes weeks, even months, to reach.

And I remember now that Albin is in possession of that spellcrafter cross, which might be the one stolen from Schraber. Even if it isn't that one per say, I'm afraid that he might be using it on Pat. And maybe on me as well, which is why I am writing in this journal. I definitely felt some sort of influence during that conversation. So I am scared that I am going to be swayed soon, if I am not already.

Hopefully, this entry will give me some grounding.

In the meantime, I am going to do something that I dare not mention to anyone, even to Pat: I am going to figure my own plan out to retrieve that spellcrafter cross.

<- 03 January 1341 <- || -> 07 January 1341 ->

[libraryofcirclaria]

03 January 1341

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

Story Thirteen: Nix Planen

Part Two: The Personal Journal Entries of Nix Planen

Needless to say, I took the semester off from Cabotton University, and Pat a few weeks from his job, for this trip to Ancondria.

Today was the third time I have ever flown in my life, and the first time, since my date with Helen, that I had been to the Gentry County Airfield. Now that I could see it in the day time, I've noticed that the Airfield seems stuck between the airship chapter of the past and the gyroplane chapter of the future, having landing pads and gates serving both. I am sure that this has been the case for numerous airfields around the Commonwealth, but I was a tad fascinated nonetheless.

Pat and I took a small gyroplane from here to the Basin District. At the Basin District, we boarded a larger gyroplane, which flew approximately eight hours to the Ancondrian city of Kronoston.

Thus, today served the first time in my life that I set foot in Ancondria.

Before we left for Kearney, I decided to stop at one of the department stores in Kronoston, where I purchased an expensive gyroscope. Pat advised me not to, but I have been hell-bent on using some sort of item bought here to prove to my friends back at Cabotton that I indeed visited Ancondria, just in case they decide that they should not believe me. Afterward, we took a passenger lorry to Kearney.

Now, I need to pause for a moment and describe how interesting the transit system is here. At first, when I heard the term "lorry," I thought they were referring to something like a box truck or a coach bus, or something else of the sort. These vehicles are truly unique to the Ancondrian Domain, however; for though they have the same interior passenger-and-cargo-space structure as that of a bus or truck, these "lorries," instead of being on normal wheels, are placed atop these "super-wheels" housed in a trapezoid-shaped undercarriage much wider at its base than at the top where is located the passenger cabin area. Efficient? I'm not sure, especially since the highway "tracks" they travel on from city to city, at around a speed of 150 miles per hour, are very wide multi-lane routes made of concrete and protected by 100-foot-high walls, topped with barbed-wire fences, on either side. They also seem as loud as gyroplanes when they fly by, according to the local reports. But nonetheless, the interior of the cabin is very comfortable, perhaps even more-so than aboard gyroplanes; and the experience is top-of-the-line modern and convenient.

So we took a passenger lorry from Kronoston to Kearney. And from the lorry transit hub in Kearney, we took a passenger shuttle to the nearest stop to the address indicated in the letter.

***

And it was Albin Gene, as we've suspected. He introduced himself upfront before acquainting himself with a group of super-loyal followers of his, who seemed to feel empowered by Gene's agenda. They toured us through a back-room on the ground floor of the residence, where stood a dymensional plane casting what they stated was a very accurate and realistic representation of the entire supercontinent of Ancondria.

That back-room, we later learned, was referred to as the Salon. And shortly after the tour, we were directed back out to the front-room, called the Great Foyer, where Albin ascended a podium along the wall opposite of the front door, and gave a speech.

The speech basically outlined the progress of his agenda, with the audience displaying very much an excited enamor and energized applause with every little accomplishment mentioned. Pat and I were a bit suspicious with this, as I presumed Pat would bring up as soon as we checked into our guest room at a residence across the street.

Before we left for the night, though, Albin Gene tugged me by the arm.

"Just a moment, please," he said to Pat. "I need to borrow this good man." Despite me fearing the worst, I went with Albin as he guided me back to the Salon, which was empty save for me and him. There, he pulled out from his suit jacket a small framed picture of a young women with strikingly long and black hair.

"Dalia Nahmens," Albin said. "That is her name."

My thoughts went back to what Amanda told me. For a moment, I felt a wave of panic.

"Please. I did not mean to scare you," Albin said, putting his hand gently on my right shoulder. "Despite what you have been told, she is a real person. I met her shortly before I left the University."

"Cabotton..." I began.

Albin gave a solemn nod. "She was the only one who understood me for who I am. Sadly, the forces of conspiracy from the Pageturner Guild sowed their division, and swayed her from me at the last moment. But not before she gave me this." Albin pulled from his pocket a chain at the end of which hung what appeared to be a coin embossed with what looked like a sun-disc with four rays, each right-angled from the other so that the embossment looked like a cross within a wheel. "This was a parting gift," Albin continued. "Dalia knew she was being swayed by oathcrafting from the Pageturners. She knew that she would not be able to resist for long. So she gave me this. She told me to leave...and that was the real reason I left....She told me to leave, to go as far away as possible, for a period of five years. Then she instructed me to send my most trusted stranger to return this to her, at her residence in Cabotton. She said that the Pageturner grip would be at its weakest by then, and that upon the moment she received this from that stranger, she would come here...to our new home."

He paused then and there, looking at me. To fill the awkward silence, I could only venture what was on my mind. "...so...I am that trusted stranger?"

"So it would seem," he said. "Though I need to have further discussion with you at a later time, to consider a test of endurance...I'll call you when the time comes; and you may invite Pat."

***

Indeed, Pat was suspicious. And furthermore, I have not been believing Albin in the slightest, though I dare not mention that to Albin himself. Regardless, Pat and I, back at our guest-room across the street, shared our experiences.

"That does like the missing spellcrafter cross," Pat said when I told him about the coin-shaped medallion with the sun-and-plus symbol. "The one stolen from Kelvin Schraber at Lerutan Theatre several years ago."

"Didn't it belong to Kontacet?" I said. I remembered at that moment. It was never really in the news, for both the Schrabers and Kontacets wished to keep quiet on what they perceived was a damaging degree of publicity. Nevertheless, the story has made its way around Cabotton University and the Third Level Society.

Accordingly, in October 1276, Alexander Kontacet commissioned an organization known as "the Vaults," located in the city of Budlapeyay, a bustling seaport along the North Coast of the island-nation of Tandeiyah, to forge a spellcrafter cross for a reason known only to those trusted Keepers of deep Kontacet family matters. Alexander then traveled to "the Vaults," attained the newly-made spellcrafter cross in person, and took it home to Jestopole.

Five years later, in October 1281, Alexander Kontacet was sitting in the back row of the audience in Lerutan Theatre to see a musical production, when a masked figure placed a cloth sack over his face and forcibly took the spellcrafter cross. The authorities were called and before long, suspicion arose that the incident was connected to, at the time, the ongoing Weyne-North feud; thus an investigation was launched. The Kontacet family, in the meantime, pulled all of their ropes to ensure that the press did not give them unwanted attention. The investigation would continue for five months, at the end of which an anonymous witness found the spellcrafter cross along a sidewalk in a part of the East Side of Lerutan rather notorious for spellcrafter gang activity. The witness turned the cross back to the authorities, who realized that the spellcrafter cross was damaged.

The thief was neither found nor identified; and the spellcrafter cross was given back to Alexander Kontacet, who decided not to have it repaired owing to the expense, but instead opted to return it to "the Vaults" for safekeeping. He did plan to eventually have it repaired but decided that it was not a top priority at that time.

The spellcrafter cross would rest in "the Vaults" until its involvement with the Schraber family some forty years later. No one is quite sure of the reason, but the Schraber family requested to borrow it, to which the Kontacets agreed. Thus, through the Schraber family, it landed in the possession of Kelvin Schraber.

Nearly an exact repetition of the past, Kelvin Schraber sat in the back of the audience of Lerutan Theater in October 1338 for a performance. When the show got to a loud part, some cloaked figure incapacitated Kelvin and stole the spellcrafter cross in the same fashion. This was followed by yet another round of investigations as well as another round of publicity cover-ups. Only this time, the spellcrafter cross has apparently been missing since.

"...but here it is, now, in Albin's possession," Pat concluded. "Though I will have to confirm by seeing it, myself."

"Of course," I said. "But how do we return it? He seems to have everyone around him swayed. So I'm sure he has spies...personal guards..."

"Oathcrafting," Pat said. "Right there in front of us. But nonetheless, we need to find a way to stop him. His influence is spreading. It seems contained within this street block if not solely within his residence. But we surely need to keep it that way if not stop him altogether."

I was just about to ask how, once again, when both of our communication tablets, in our pockets, gave off signature chimes indicating new messages. It was a group message over a new OCEA channel from Albin Gene, himself, inviting us both to a private dinner tomorrow.

"He did say that he wanted to speak with both of us tomorrow," I said, remembering now. "It's just the timing..."

"I wouldn't worry this time," Pat said.

<- 02 January 1341 <- || -> 04 January 1341 ->

[libraryofcirclaria]

02 January 1341

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

Story Thirteen: Nix Planen

Part Two: The Personal Journal Entries of Nix Planen

Galacia Minor LXVI, in the Arturian Multiverse, is a Juno-Minor-sized planet of nothing but atmosphere in which dwell countless skymountains. Each skymountain is of a different size, however slight, and has its own range of climates. And each said skymountain is ruled by a Mountain Lord. Mountain Lords here buy and trade off of each other, functioning in a, what I seem to figure, seemingly late-stage capitalist free market. The population here is a mixture of avatars and independently-functioning daemons. And transportation here consists of spaceships like my own, which I bought a rather cheap one recently, as well as gyroplanes similar to the real-world ones, and of course the generational degrees of airships and sail-powered airships. Unlike our world, there are also rope-cable-car travel networks.

I have spent a good deal of time on a particular skymountain called Mount Muritan Major, where I had been tasked with ridding the place of a nefarious "squatter."

Mount Muritan Major is owned by the organization: the Muritan Guild. In the lower section of the skymountain lies a lake, which resides in a permanent temperate summer zone. Along the bank across the lake from the towering Mountain Summit stood recently-built cabins, where it was determined the said squatter lurked.

Initially, the squatter group sought asylum here, claiming that they had been persecuted by the rulers of the neighboring Mount Dorrin. The Muritanian leaders granted them asylum, but soon after, they began receiving reports of Muritan Guild dwellings being burglarized and road-travelers being robbed. A spy sent by the Muritanian Lord discovered that the squatters were actually insiders serving Mount Dorrin, trying to infiltrate Muritan and subjugate its territory under Dorrinian rule.

So my avatar, Nix, accepted an assignment to sneak up on and assassinate the leader of the squatters. Nix was already well-trained in concealment, melee combat, and spellfire combat. So he found the cabin housing the nefarious leader, and discovered that it contained a secret passageway leading to an Underworld-like dungeon where there lay a hot-drake, the true form of this leader. I realized that I needed an army to overcome this thing, so, luckily still concealed, I retreated back out, to the outside, and up to the Great Cabin where housed the Muritanian Guild Leader, to whom I reported and asked for my army. The Guild Leader gave me, at best, fifteen avatars and seventeen daemons to command. Disappointed but nonetheless determined, I led them back to the squatter cabin cluster. Figuring that we could not all conceal ourselves, I led a command to attack them head on and fight our way back to the hot-drake. Ten of my army fell, but I figured that with still twelve remaining, we still had a fighting chance against the enemy leader. After a great deal fighting, we slew the drake. Three avatars fell, but they had incredible resurrection capabilities, so that there were still twelve of us standing yet.

As it turned out, the drake was hoarding all of the stolen wealth, all of it in a deceptively small chest. However, feeling that I had to be the first to look inside, I sent the other twenty-one questors looking in other parts of the lair for a while. During that time, I opened the chest and found a piece of paper inside atop the wealth. I secretly pocketed that paper, determined never to show the questors or the Guild Leader. In the meantime, we determined that the chest the only place that contained the stolen wealth; and so, according to Guild protocol, we transported it back to the Guild Leader and left them to decide the dividends of the quest spoils. Ultimately, we, each, got compensation equivalent to an equal share, while the actual wealth was returned to its rightful owners.

I had, upon my arrival here, been assigned a private dwelling. And this proved lucky, for I was able, in secrecy, to open the folded paper I found in the chest and read its contents. Written was a very long and poetic explanation, which I will not repeat word-for-word here but will give a summary. The note dealt solely with affairs of the real world outside Arturia, touching largely upon the very same type of grievances, primarily corruption and self-interest like with Ron and Helen, regarding Cabotton and Third Level Society politics experienced by myself. But the note went further to explain that these issues were commonplace across multiple organizations, especially those dealing with dymensional planecrafting. The narrator emphasized that a certain Pageturner Guild was most notorious for this, outwardly inciting division in order to keep their apparent opposition subdued.

According to the note, this was cause for "everyone to unite and, through any and all necessary measures, secure for themselves the freedom we so deserve."

"To the reader of this letter, should you answer this call," it concluded, "you must keep this away from the prying eyes of the general public, whom you should not trust. And you must commit without question. You will receive further instructions, should you arrive at my location at 321 Route of the Roses in the Ancondrian city of Kearney. And you shall do so no earlier than 2 January, no later than 23 January of the year 1341...With the Best Regards: Your Master Pagewriter."

***

I had never had a close conversation with the Third Level Society Dungeonmaster: Amanda Korgan. But nonetheless, I decided to go to her directly about the above letter. The Pagewriter-vs-Pageturner conflict had been a major issue during the twenty years ago, back during the Neurovirus Pandemic and the days of Combria and Gymia fighting against the Commonwealth as their own country. The pandemic has since subsided while Combria and Gymia have since rejoined the Commonwealth. But while people assumed that the out-of-control politics between the two Guilds had subsided as well, I have come to realize that it is not wise to assume the latter.

Immediately upon reading the note, which I was able to convert from the Arturian Realm to our world on a similar-looking piece of paper, Korgan jumped right to the issue of Albin Gene. "We crossed paths very briefly," she said. "He was on his way out as I was on my way in. And I thought him the strangest individual."

"I heard that he was apparently under the influence of having a 'calling to be a leader' or something like that?" I ventured.

Korgan chuckled a little. "That...and moreover his delusions. I remember how he was obsessing romantically over some Arturian character, unsure if it was an avatar or not. Regardless, he convinced himself that she was a real person...My worry, though, for this note you gave me, is that he has now convinced himself that he is the Master Pagewriter. Obviously that is false, but that, combined with his rumored talent in the unlawful field of oathcrafting, makes this man as dangerous as he is strange. He must be stopped!"

"Is that my assignment?" I asked, half-jokingly.

"Actually yes," she said, after a pause. "Since you're seemingly the first person here who is aware. Also, I would very much like to avoid publicity with this. However, I need you to bring a friend. And I need you to be careful; go to his address like the note asks, just claim you and the friend found the note together, but both of you need to simply observe the man and find a way to stop him in the most practical way possible before you act."

"I'll think on this," I said. "But first, I need to find someone I can deem a trustworthy friend."

My mind was already made up, though. I've still been looking for a reason to leave this place. And I knew exactly who to ask: Pat Middleton.

"But this might be more dangerous than we think," Pat said to me when I met with him and showed the letter. "Amanda says oathcrafting, and I say the same. But how do we know we're safe."

"Honestly," I replied. "I haven't figured that out yet. But I'm willing to get to the bottom of this because I'm with others who may be influenced."

"You just want to leave here, don't you..."

"Maybe for a time. Also, I feel that perhaps doing what I feel right now is a good deed could restore my moral reputation here." And I did feel honest saying that.

Pat sighed. "Very well. I'll go with you, but only because you don't seem to know what the hell you're doing."

<- 21 October 1340 <- || -> 03 January 1341 ->

[libraryofcirclaria]

21 October 1340

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

Story Thirteen: Nix Planen

Part Two: The Personal Journal Entries of Nix Planen

I spoke with my good friend, Pat Middleton, who graduated from Cabotton last year, and explained to him all of yesterday's events. He told me to "stop and write out the events as though I were writing a story," thus doing so would allow me to make good judgements. So as promised, here is my story, written to the best of my ability.

***

My avatar, a man very much like myself and, like myself, named Nix, had become a well-seasoned avatar with a well-advanced spaceship earned through hard work and merit. A few months ago, I, through this avatar, joined an Arturian trade organization known as the Black Key Federation, founded in our year, 1336, and headquartered on the Arturian Multiverse planet: Cresca Minor LX. And I still think now as I thought then that this place was perfectly appropriate to house such a Headquarters, for Cresca Minor LX is very much a boring planet, very much like our own in the real world.

The Black Key Federation, by this time, expanded to include numerous bases in the Cresca, Parradin, and Marlen Sectors...and even a couple of bases in the Galacia Sector. The Federation specialized strictly in the trade of copper, silver, gold, and diamonds. And at the time my avatar joined, the Federation was looking very much into the expansion of trade in the Galacia Sector of these four commodities, a trade very much lucrative here since the Galacian authorities have outlawed the free trade of such, in order to secure these resources as stable bases for monetary currency.

This agenda sparked growing resentment within the Federation, especially from a faction known as the Red Priesthood. The Red Priesthood was a special collection of Quest Leaders on behalf of the Black Key Federation dedicated to such an expansion of trade for the emerging Galacia Chapters. The Commander-General of the Federation at the time, the very same Pat Middleton, had allowed the Red Priests to dictate the terms of dispersement of the rewards gained from such a black market trade. But this past Spring, following Pat's graduation, an obvious vacancy was created. I vowed to run for the position, which was elected by Federation members; and Ron Glen, my roommate from the beginning of my time here at Cabotton University, initially supported me. But then, for reasons unknown, he had his avatar turn against me. And, with incredible persuasion, defeated me to become Governor-General, himself. Glen then proceeded to have the black market revenues be dispersed evenly throughout the Federation, leaving me and many of the Red Priests feeling short-changed.

And I know this was only a part of politics within the questing planes. But nevertheless, that was my first sense of betrayal from the parties involved. The second came with Helen Nichols.

Nichols is a Cabotton student, one year older than me. She was my orientation mentor, as every Freshman is assigned one in the beginning, and served as a phenomenal resource helping me to navigate life at Cabotton for the first couple of weeks. During that time, we discovered that we had a lot in common. There were a lot of aspects about her that were very appealing to me; and I sensed that she felt the same. Though the connection was not intentionally romantic from the outset, this, combined with her physical attractiveness, was, I will admit, what led me to falling strongly in love with her in the beginning.

My hopes for her grew, as I encouraged her to join the Third Level Society and afterward mentored her based on my few weeks' experience thus far. This was something that did not catch her initially, but most definitely grew on her as time went on. It was my mentoring, I believe she may have forgotten now, that led her to being the passionate Member she is today.

Earlier this spring, I asked her on a date with myself, to which she said yes. For the occasion, we had a romantic dinner aboard the Flying Diner, a restaurant aboard an airship that flew for a couple hours at a time around Gentry County Airfield and involved a flyby of the University Campus. After that dinner, and shortly before the landing, I asked her for a long-term relationship. She replied to me that though she enjoyed the experience, she wanted to wait until the following Fall Semester to consider. I was a tad let down at the moment, but did not dare show it to her. Instead, I expressed my understanding, with the incentive in my mind, her word was to be trusted.

As it turned out, that trust was in vain.

She was originally going to venture back to her home in Pimdan, near what I believe was called the Lake Paron region, in order to do seasonal summer work. However, she met my roommate, Ron Glen, and fell madly in love with him. Unknown to me, she decided to stay. And I would not find out about any of this until I discovered Ron Glen had turned his support against me and vowed to usurp my campaign for the Governor-General position, which he won with Helen at his side.

Needless to say, being not only that my avatar was to remain Lieutenant-Admiral status but also that Helen and Ron were together, I was very disgruntled.

And it was in desiring to respond to such an act of betrayal that I saw an opportunity with the Red Priests. I rallied with them, avatars and daemons alike, and organized to have them form an insurgent group known as the Red-Keyers and to coup against the top leadership of the Black Key Federation. The first part of this agenda of mine was to begin with some of the Red Priests starting up minor but numerous conflicts upon the remotely-managed planets of the Galacia Sector, not enough to guarantee retaliation from the super-authoritarian Galacian regime but enough to make Glen and Nichols uncomfortable about this sort of thing. Glen, as planned, dispatched a bulk of Black Key Federation forces toward this distraction.

But that was only a small portion of the forces I had at my disposal. The remaining bulk of them, while Glen and Nichols were distracted, launched an armada which succeeded in sacking Federation Headquarters on Cresca Minor LX, a critical blow.

Up to this point, Glen was not aware that I was behind the "crisis." So my expectation, since he still showed respect for me even though I was getting the short-end of the stick, was to call on me for help. My response to that would be to dispatch my battalion of fighters, the ones Glen had assigned to me that is, to defeat the insurgents. Thus, it was the idea that I would get credit for resolving the crisis and, perhaps, gain a better standing in Black Key Federation leadership, if not actually win the Commander-General title myself.

But Glen's call for help never came. And after a great deal of waiting, I became impatient and took matters into my own hands. I took my battalion to Cresca Minor LX and discovered that the Red-Keyer insurgents had made a peace deal with Helen Nichol's battalion.

I was outraged over this. So I decided to cloak myself and join forces with those remaining Red-Keyers still loyal to me. Together, we attacked the planet again with the hope to sabotage the situation. This was a mistake though, for within my reformed attack force were, I believe, one or two avatars who snitched on me. Glen and Nichols made a joint call for the Red-Key insurgents to renounce themselves and become loyal stewards of the original Black Key Federation, and to have the Black Key Federation vote my avatar out completely. This matter succeeded; thus, I was kicked out of the Black Key Federation.

The worst part was that I did not realize any of this was happening at the time. Not the vote-out nor even the initial snitching. I was actually on a weekend visit to my parents' house when the decisions were made. And it was only after I returned to Cabotton and attempted to have my avatar engage his spaceship, only to find it locked down, that I noticed something was unusual. My suspicions increased when I had resolved that a new spaceship was needed from the Federation Repository, and discovered that I was locked out of said Repository. I contacted Ron Glen regarding the issue to which he responded that I was no longer a Federation Member.

That was yesterday morning. And Ron had broken the news to me at the time in the form of direct messaging. That evening, as in last night, I confronted Ron, who was alone at the time, just leaving our suite to go meet Helen at the Slack, and told him that there appeared to be a mistake.

"I meant what I said, Nix," Ron said, stiffly, to me at that moment. "You were being dishonest for personal gain. Helen agrees and so does the majority of Federation Members."

"This is ridiculous," I said angrily, throwing my hands in the air.

"Indeed it is...due to you."

"How about we see what the Server Administrator and the Prefects have to say about this."

Ron chuckled a little. "Good luck with that."

I grabbed Ron by the shirt. "Or how about I dispatch a clenched fist to your face!?"

"Woah!" Ron threw his hands in the air. "Fine. Go ahead and try but I wouldn't risk the Campus Watch and a trip to University Affairs if I were you."

And I did the only thing I could do at that time. I let go of Ron and I stormed off.

***

"And what you did was precisely the right thing to do in the end," Pat Middleton told me tonight. "...with only one caveat: do not end up like Albin Gene."

"Who is that?" I asked.

Pat leaned back, cringing into his hands. Then he explained:

"Albin Gene was a student here between five and seven years ago. He was a Member of the Third Level Society. He was convinced that he 'had a higher calling,' and that he was 'the chosen one,' whatever that meant. This, of course, kicked up a lot of dust between himself and other Society Members. He joined the Pagewriter Guild at some point, and later thought that qualified him for the Dungeonmaster position. Needless to say, he lost that election...and I think that was back in the fall of 1335. He was rather disgruntled by the setback and unjoined the Society, vowing to focus all of his attention on the Guild. That following spring though, the Guild kicked him out...he apparently gained a notorious reputation of some sort there as well.

"Where he is now," Pat concluded, placing a hand on my knee. "No one really knows. All I hope is that he never comes back and that you never meet him. And promise never to be like him!"

"You have my word," I said, shaking his hand.

Shortly after I left, curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to check the Society OCEA Newsfeeds. Apparently, Helen's avatar ousted Ron's as Commander-General, which gave me a bit of a chuckle. I'm sure that Ron is gutted, but, with their relationship as strong as it is, I am sure it will be a short time before they console with each other.

Regardless, I have resolved to have my avatar start over, questing first in Rope World on a random Arturian planet. My hope is that I will gain enough Arturian Credits and rise up to Space World again, perhaps to form my own Federation or Guild.

<- 20 October 1340 <- || -> 02 January 1341 ->

[libraryofcirclaria]

20 October 1340

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

Story Thirteen: Nix Planen

Part Two: The Personal Journal Entries of Nix Planen

For Ron Glen, a man who I was foolish enough to call my best friend, to have the audacity to report me to the Campus Watch...I just can't...

He would have deserved that punch, had I given it to him.

Ron and Helen. How could they betray me? Why would they ever conspire against me like this? I gave my all in the Arturian Realm! More than they would ever have asked for! They're just so damn incompetent, the two of them.

In fact, their incompetence was the reason I had to do what I did. Can they not see that?

I was going to report both of them to the Server Administrator, just like I warned them. But now I am thinking that the Admins are just as incompetent. So I may just quit. In fact, I might even leave Cabotton altogether.

I just cannot believe that they stole my avatar's spaceship. I worked so hard to earn that. My avatar was a seasoned one, and all through merit. That ship was mine by right. Ron and Helen were wrong to take it from me. It did NOT "belong to the Federation." They stole it!

Maybe they are cunning. I've failed to consider that. But the more I think now, the more I realize that they were actually setting me up. With Ron pretending to be my "innocent friend." And then Helen...I thought she truly was in love with me. But now I know. I should have known all along. She was seducing me for leverage. Hell, I even wonder if she and Ron had long planned this together in order to have me removed.

Either way, I absolutely hate them both. Ron would have deserved that punch to the face. Maybe Helen too. And maybe also those snitches in the Federation who lied and said they were on my side.

I can't wait to leave. To hell with the Third Level Society!

-> 21 October 1340 ->

[libraryofcirclaria]

Part Two: The Personal Journal Entries of Nix Planen

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

Story Thirteen: Nix Planen

20 October 1340

21 October 1340

02 January 1341

03 January 1341

04 January 1341

07 January 1341

08 January 1341

19 January 1341

17 April 1341

24 June 1341

<- Part One: The Letter from Kelvin Schraber to Arnold Kontacet <-

[libraryofcirclaria]

Part One: The Letter from Kelvin Schraber to Arnold Kontacet

Library of Circlaria

Third Level Society: First Version

Story Thirteen: Nix Planen

To the Honorable Mr. Arnold Kontacet:

It is with shame that I must inform you with news regarding your spellcrafter cross, whom our family borrowed. It has suffered the same fate as forty years prior, in the same place and at the same kind of event.

I was in the back row of the Lerutan Theatre. It was the loudest part of the production, I believe, when a man dressed all in black slipped a sack over my face and yanked the valuable item off my chest. The play was paused momentarily while I spoke with the authorities. My friends and I searched the East side of the town, where it had been found last time laying alongside the Main Route. Only this time, nothing turned up.

I've managed to have the press keep silent about this so as to avoid publicity; only a small police report was broadcasted as far as I know. But nonetheless, I feel it is important to disclose the turn of events to the Honorable Kontacet family for the sake of ethics, and also in the hopes that either you or those with whom you are acquainted may perhaps have knowledge of the parties responsible, as undesirable as these rivals may be.

My guess thus far is that the incident may be related to lingering politics from the Weyne-North Feud of the distant past. My other guess is that a trip made by one of my elder relatives to Notulfa thirty years ago may have attracted rivals in that region as well. But regardless of the cause, I do fear that the party responsible for the theft has malicious intent. So I will therefore assume total responsibility in assisting you, along with my friends and with yours, in seeking out this item. And I will, upon its discovery, see to it that it is returned to your possession so that it may be protected for the foreseeable future.

Most Sincerely and with the Best Regards,

Kelvin Schraber

-> Part Two: The Personal Journal Entries of Nix Planen ->