Chapter Text
There is one tower in the District of the Stars that no Marleybonian researcher or Crustacean invader has ever been able to break into.
Externally, it appears no different from any of the others that twirl up elegantly from the Astral Archives. Pearl-shaded stone with cool-hued trim, one would not guess that inside there lies anything more than piles of books - or rather, their withered leathery skeletons, given how long the land has laid underwater.
But if some ambitious foreigner were to brave the strange, time-washed city, and if they were to peer closely at the condition of the once-magnificent architecture, they might notice how upon this tower, the cracks inflicted by Piscean claws run shallow. It would appear in some places that a large apparatus, perhaps a hammer, had been taken to the outer wall, only to lose momentum after leaving a shallow square indent. In fact, a foreigner might notice that all manner of attacks had been wielded against both the outer and inner walls - all entirely fruitless. While most every building in the District was collapsing in on itself, gradually ripped to shards by the ruthless nature of Piscean commerce, this tower remained stark and unremarkable.
Today, the tower's existence has been recorded in the journal of one Edmund Barkeley, a dog from Marleybone with a high-level degree in Spiral history. There, he notes that, carved above the impenetrable blue stone door, there is a line of text in an alphabet he does not understand, and which no one will understand for several years. After that, he goes on to theorize what material the floor's tiles might be made of - information that could hardly matter to anyone other than a historian.
It will be a long time before a young wizard begins to awaken the arcane secrets of Celestia's powerful technology, and by then the world's historians will have more to worry about than a short, waterlogged inscription. But should an ambitious foreigner return to the Archives and apply their newfound knowledge to the line of text above the door, they might translate it as follows:
Fiannis-e alixsol ia-ne-poliyan.
"History is written by the victors."