Chapter Text
Well, that ceremony could've gone better...
Sure, it may have been partially my fault but they're rigidity makes no sense! If progress is out mission, if being the higher species is the goal, why stop the merging of two complementary disciplines?
Magic and science go hand in hand, science makes magic more refined, and magic makes science more powerful! To all accounts, it makes sense! Why alienate them? Why conform to practicing one, or the other?
The only answer, given what happened an hour ago, would be...control...
Of course, it makes sense...
It's easier to monitor isolated disciplines, those practiced at large and proven to be safe on their own. Why would they allow me to do my stuff when they don't know what may come out of it? It would require way too much trust, and even if they had it, how could they stop others from shifting towards my lane, or others in any case? After all, they had given me permission to deviate, they would have to let everyone do it as well, right? It would bring anarchy, way too much freedom for those old birds to handle.
So...what should I do? Comply with one of both and remain unhappy knowing the potential lost? Settle in? Follow the path already marked? I can't, but, what's the alternative? Make a revolution? Overthrow the council? As much fun as that would be, how do I know there's others in that predicament? Everyone seemed so happy to take their places at the guilds, the only crook quacking like a lunatic was me.
No, if I want to do what I want, I'll need to leave...
But the law dictates we must never leave the nest unless we choose the Hunter's Guild, and even I know their reach is limited, besides, becoming part of them isn't an option, I'm way too big and way too dumb to keep a cover like that. The fey know I can hardly keep my beak shut when something's in my mind, and lying has never being my strong suit.
Perhaps...I could escape...
Maybe...I could feed their fears by tricking them.
Yes! If I fake my death while trying something they fear, they won't look out for me, they'll just pass down the lesson and continue on with their lives!
It's brilliant! I'll get to do what I want, explore the world outside, discover new spells and artifacts, help those beyond this forsaken tree! If everyone thinks I'm dead, I'll finally live free. No expectations, no limits, just my claws and whatever is within my reach!
YES! YES! YES! THIS IS THE ANSWER!
And oh! I've got a plan! A wonderful plan! No obstacles, no mistakes, not a thing left to luck. Everything has to be perfect, starting tomorrow.
The council, blessed by their eternal wisdom, gave me a day to think which guild I should join. They think I'll make a choice, and that will be the end of it, but my plan will just begin its course.
Surrounded by the whole nest, I'll defend my point and ask for a chance to prove my discipline to be of use to the colony. For that, I'll show the basic schematics for a hybrid machine, one which will promise to fix a common problem around here: The Willow's Maintenance.
Owlins are small, and problems in this tree require bigger claws to handle, after all, our ancestors were said to have lived in here as if it was a normal den, and now it hosts thousands of us. From a perfectly sized lair, it became a buzzling city, which often suffers from our abuse, thus, maintenance is constantly needed to keep the tree healthy and strong. For that, the machine will have to be equiped with advanced gardening equipment, pest control and structural refinement material, but, overall, it'll need a strong power source, since it'll need to climb up and down the tree.
Overall, and most importantly, it'll need to be manually operated, not because I can't make it sentient, because I can, but to assure the accident is believable enough. The power source will have to explode, in order to throw me far away, to make it seem as if my survival would be impossible. If everything goes according to plan, and the machine's life source is as strong as I need it to be, I'll be just outside the Willow's borders in a couple of minutes and the explosion will consume the machine, making my death more believable.
Of course, what will be shown to the Council tomorrow will only be the possitive side of it all, aside from the time of completion, which, if my trials take as long as I think they will, would be of a month. I could make it faster but testing out power sources will be tricky.
They won't only need to make the whole machine work, but be volatile enough to explode on command, consume the machine, and send me flying outside the border, in the end, it has to seem nothing survived. Of course, the combustion will have to occur in stages, so the explosion doesn't actually kill me. It would need to blow up, and, consecuentially, consume the machine, and only magic can give me that result.
A gem infused with magic may work, but it can't be an Amber, is too reliable and small, Quartz could get me through, but it won't be big enough to power it all...Tourmaline could hold the infusion, power it, and be the correct size for it's effects to be consistant.
As for the frame, it has to conduct the spell, while also remaining light and resistant. It should be simple, practical, but visually interesting for it to not seem like a coy. Maybe it could be built like a spider, it would maximize their climbing abilities, but would also help protect all the gardening stuff needed.
Sounds solid, and with some quick calculus, all that matters should be ready for a brief presentation, but, a topic left unsolved is, how could I leave without leaving traces of my whereabouts? Of the real intent behind this contraption?
If all disappears with me, they'll suspect something is off. I have to leave hints of the truth I want them to believe, so they don't go after me; but I also can't give them something which might be used wrongfully in the future.
Knowing the Council, they'll use anything with potential for their own gain, like the Hunters, who aren't only used as Food Collectors, but as Bountyhunters, sent to capture wanted people, get the money, and a possible favour to cash.
Thus, making conections beyond our borders, so, if anyone escapes and is found by a partner of the council, they can be sent back...and punished.
I can't help but feel awful everytime I see Noctis. Declawed, with a broken beak and cut off wings. They tried to escape by hiding in the forest after a patrol, soon after, running from their fellow hunters until going beyond the border. A week they remained free...until a powerful merchant saw them taking small jobs to survive. He tricked them, bringing them to the tree once more, just to be desfigured, punished, tortured. Now, they wander alone at the roots of the tree, eating what they can, waiting for their demise, as slow and painful as it may seem.
When I met them, while searching for burried amber, I couldn't help but believe they were a ghost...until they pleaded for some of the steamed mice meat I had brought as lunch. Their appearance sent chills down my spine, but I couldn't be mean, mostly because my innate curiousity drove me to ask a million questions.
Only then, I understood the myths surrounding the roots of The Willow, it was because of them. They had been called the Forgotten, the ghost below the tree; turned into an urban legend. In my eyes, they became a warning tale about the Council and their reach. They have taught me that, if I want to pull this off, I have to cover my back perfectly, no spots left to luck, so, the next step of my plan is set.
To assure I won't fall into the enemy's hands once I'm out, I have to get the Council's Allies Listing. Those names and locations will help me avoid any place which might become a landmine field.
Aside from that, the clues left behind have to tell the story I want them to believe. Diaries, notes, schematics, everything has to talk about how I have the best intentions, of how I know this will work and change the Council's minds about mixing disciplines. Though plucky and...cheesy, it's the best bet I have to make my demise truthful.
Sure, most has to be verifiable, but those schematics have to be doable, yet disastrous. Even if that makes them think I'm an idiot, I don't mind, part of the plan is frustrating theirs, whatever they might be.
So, my scheme, in simple words, goes as follows:
Tomorrow, in front of the Council, I'll ask for a chance to prove what I want isn't crazy, that it can actually help the colony. Right after, I'll show the schematics of the machine, it's attributes and cons, it's building schedule and functonality.
Hoping everything goes as it should, I'll make two versions of everything, the one everyone will see, which will eventually become the coy, and mine, which I'll take with me once everything is said and done.
The Coy Diary will have what it's needed, basic information, assembling instructions, everything that happens throughout the month which can be verified by witnesses and logs. Notes will hold short term reminders, small things to make it believable. Same for all the blueprints, techincally speaking, it'll have everything it needs.
But my archives will hold the secrets they don't need to know.
How the machine will trigger the tourmaline into exploding, how it could be improved if done again, alternative designs, all that can be of use to me, and no one else!
I'll feed into their fears for their own good, and mine.
No one will know what went wrong, only I'll know that the tourmaline will be cracked, that channeling the spell expanded that crack and that when powering the machine, the energy was too much for it to handle, and thus, it failed...succesfully.
The tourmaline's final breath will send me flying to the boarder, of course, I'll be protected from view. An enchanted set of clothes will be triggered by the explosion, which will make me partially invisible for those around.
Once gone, the spell inside, once exposed, will absorb the machine as a form of equivalent exchange before dissappearing. No trace of my little trick will remain, only what I want them to see.
Small schematics for funny llittle gizmos will be all over my hollow, thing which will be tempting for the council as weapons and other advanced magic-infused-machinery. Little do they now, all are meant to fail. If not tweaked by somone like me, the structure won't hold the magic correctly, or the energy will be way to much for anyone to handle.
They'll explode, malfunction, break, and no one will know why, but me.
Even if they have the best wizards, sorcerers and inventers in the Willow, each discipline on their own can't do what I can. The perfect synergy between magic and science is more than a machine and a stone, it's an advance system of power distribution built and refined for a purpose, it's casting a spell with the correct orders for the machine to understand its objective! That's why they'll regret denying me today!
Once they see what I can do, I'll be gone, free of their chains!
Because I know what would happen if they accept my plea and the device works with no issue, I won't become the head of a new discipline, I'll become their personal toy maker. Making gadgets and gizmos here and there for them and the Hunters, all to intimidate the less advanced allies they have and will gather. I would run from a cage, to another, and that's exactly what I want to avoid.
If everything works, there's only a thing I can't solve, not cleanly at least. I can't leave Noctis here to rot...
Sure, I can't take them with me, but maybe I can help them escape again. It'll be a risky bet but it'll be worth it.
A declawed owlin is like a tabaxi, by taking a part of us, you generate extreme nerve damage, rendering us useless. We can't walk, nor hunt or perch. Our Hands and feet become stubs, curled up and sensible to the touch, rehabilitating them is imposible, more so if it happened brutaly, like in their case. The bone was snapped, and the nerves torn, there's no way it can be fixed.
But I could create his some prothetics, for their arms and legs at least. They have to be built quickly, yet be strong and extremely functional. Steel should be enough for a basic structure, aluminium pistons and copper wires to cunduct energy from small ambers or quartz, those will translate their neurological signals into movement. Of course, they'll need some rehabilitation but given I've been taking care of then for the last month, I think it'll be ok.
The construction, procedure and treatment have to be done in the same span of time as the machine. It franquily makes me nervous but I hope everything works in the end.
The only detail I'm still not sure about is how can they escape. I'll have to check the roots, to see if there's a possible passage which can take them to the border. Until then, I'll work on the plans for both things.
The Council Guild Meet Up is coming up in twelve hours and If I wanna acomplish this, I've gotta make it big, or kiss our freedom goodbye.
Hope this works...