#the loremaster

[lordgrimwing]

Ferrin: Yes, I am a little capricious. I have some morals. Call me whimsical, if you will. But do NOT compare me to Bridonus; he's just weird.

Bridonus: 🍄📚🧾📖🍄😍

Copernum: . . . I hate you both.

[charlesthedeathwiz]

me when I get a lore master spell drop

[lordgrimwing]

Here’s a question the books never address: what is the Loremaster?

Wait, don’t you mean who is the Loremaster? Nope, I mean what. 

See, the Loremaster (less commonly known as Bridonus Keplin Dunscrip Garonicum IX) is Copernum’s father, supposedly. But Copernum, as Nedwin discovers, is a displacer. One would think that means the Loremaster is also a displacer, but I have some theories to present.

The Loremaster is a human and loyal to Maldor.

The Loremaster is a human and not loyal to Maldor.

The Loremaster is a displacer (and loyal to Maldor)

The Loremaster is a human and loyal to Maldor. 

We have to ask if Maldor would really dedicate a displacer to the Repository of Learning. The building is rarely frequented by anyone, so dedicating a whole displacer there seems a little excessive. Now, the first syllable is housed in one of the books, and it’s reasonable to think that the Emperor would want to know if someone comes looking for it. But the book is already protected by a displacer, it’s literally covered in skin, with an eye looking out at anyone who comes calling. Another displacer isn’t necessary. However, it might be helpful to have someone else at the Repository too, someone who could test would-be heroes and either turn them away or push them toward the quest for the Word. The Loremaster fills this role, as we see during Jason’s first days in Lyrian. 

That’s all well and good, but it doesn’t explain his son being a displacer. 

I’m getting there.

Maldor can’t trust just anyone with this job, after all, it does involve knowing about the word and how to get the first syllable. He needs someone who is loyal but not important enough that he wouldn’t want to tie them down to one quiet location. Someone, say, who proved their loyalty on an important task and no longer has much to do.

Enter Bridonus. He’s a minor noble in Trensicort. He isn’t a powerful man, though someone with more motivation could go far in the kingdom. He doesn’t speak up in matters of politics, perhaps because he was long ago won over to Maldor’s side but knows revealing such would be tantamount to suicide in one of the remaining free nations. He is, all things considered, a bit of a coward—loyal, but unwilling to bring attention to himself.

Then, his wife has a baby, a son, and he is approached by an agent of the empire with a proposition. He can finally do more than quietly support policies and people that are sympathetic to Maldor’s invitations, and he can do it all from the safety of his home. All he must do is trade the child for a new son and bring him up to love the empire. And Bridonus does, welcoming young Copernum into Trensicort.

The child grows into a man, ready to take the title and climb the rungs of power up to the king. If only his father would have the good grace to step aside and give him full rein of the family name. Thus, Brindonus retires from public life, retreating to focus fully on his beloved writing, and slips away to the Repository of Learning to assume his true calling as the Loremaster and guide people toward or from the Word in safety.

The Loremaster is a human and not loyal to Maldor.

This theory hinges on Maldor needing Brindonus out of Trensicort so his son can be replaced by a displacer without anyone noticing. The man was always more interested in his learning and writing than anything else. It’s easy to send a missive to him, inviting him to take up the position of Loremaster at the Secluded Repository of Learning.

He starts Jason off on the quest either because he would like the empire to fall, or because he’s got to do something to entertain himself through all the years of seclusion.

The Loremaster is a displacer (and loyal to Maldor).

The Loremaster may be a displacer. Perhaps Maldor placed him, or a forbearer, as an agent in Trensicort to watch and observe the free kingdom. If such a scheme is to go unnoticed, then Brindonus would need to leave the city before anyone realizes that he is not aging as quickly as humans. Displacers have a longer lifespan than humans, after all. Thus, he retreats to the Repository of Learning to do. . . whatever it is he does.

[lordgrimwing]

Now, this is delving a bit into my own interpretation of displacers (though I think there is plenty of evidence for it in the books), but that might shed a bit of a new light on him not signing anything he writes. Because if he doesn't claim something as his, if it can't be tie it back to him, than should anyone ever discover that he is a displacer, they can't discard everything he's created as unimportant or lies just because he's a displacer.

And if that thought doesn't tug me toward the 'he's a displacer' camp, I'm not sure what will.

[umbraspeculum]

Protege

She walks beside her mentor, through the thick corridors of glass and metal, the very thing that had kept them separated from the ocean that had smothered their walls. Aamu knows very well that if she were to tell the tale of how they had settled at the darkened base of this sea, it would be inaccurate, misconstrued by the words of many that have passed throughout the ages. Even before the time their race had stumbled upon this great technology, or in some cases had developed it - they were still primitive, and their writing systems hadn't come much later. It was the Lore-master, in all of his mystery and wisdom that had given her further insight to their history and tales. To one entity it would be but myths and legends, but to the next, it would be of science and truths. Some events, she came to realise, could not be explained with even the most descriptive tongue. Things, at times, simply were, while others in a cliche sense weren't. The insect-like creature came to question her mentor, to pry into these truths and into this lore. For she figured, certainly, if he were to live up to his name he would keep a descriptive bearing on their own history. Naturally, the Lore-master was argumentative, and was convinced that the knowledge lost within the old Library had been lost in himself, but, there had been some sense of recollection, and Aamu knew she would be the only one to pry it out of him. The old creature seems to be lost within his thoughts, and his sights embedded within a holographic screen before him. Undoubtedly he was attempting to organise, and he was to leave Aamu to guide him. The young eyes to contradict the old, and the fresher mind to better keep tabs on all of these events, some even unending, as he were to pass away. However, this did not mean the Lore-master was stubborn and attempted to keep some of these things from her as well. Metaphorically, she was to get the short end of the stick, and her mentor would be ever ominous until she'd throw this ever working mind off guard. Her maw opens, and something of a sigh escapes her mouth, antenna brushing against her scalp, as if physically mocking something that had moving ears. They were sensory organs, and while they did help with vibrations of the dark (and indeed, her species were known for their bad eye-sight and light sensitivity), and to cope with the darker presence of the ocean they resided in, in some senses they were used for emotional show. Allowing them to better express themselves, in where other races may find it easier. However, while she had the means, the older male next to her remained as readable as a statue. He had no mouth, and his expression was rather fixed - their only means of communication was through eye contact and telepathy alone. Which he seemed to provide neither, as his attention was still fixed onto the perplexing screen within his hands. Another one of her race pushes past them - an engineer, more science inclined, making some rude assumption under his breath. For they were something meddled in between, and not separated under pretense. Under bias minds, and the duality of both magic and technology, it lead to something of an unresolvable conflict. To some, there was no balance, but simply one and the other. Much akin to the "simply were" and "were nots". It was an unending, and perplexing cycle that would never seem to end. Aamu was taught to handle the prejudice with patience and her own sense of understanding, but she finds herself clicking teeth together, and offering an instinctive hiss.  <Stop that.> Her mentor finally responds to her antics, but his sight is still embedded on the screen. "Why?" It's rhetorical, and in a sense she can't be bothered to return his telepathic speech, she instead remains to her more physical senses. To bait him, or to simply cope with her own internal stress, it perplexes her very self. <You are above their arrogance. With this knowledge, you know that to mock them back is to make you lesser. Hold yourself with pride, little of self-worth and justification to fight. Patience and tolerance is a better teacher than to resort to your primordial roots.> "But you say we come from the Dreamer - and in our beginning we were open-minded people, artists, if you will. What within this changed? To where one faction may scoff at the other, even while the other has altered from our so called primordial roots." A carapaced hand swipes across the digital screen, and only for a few seconds does his eyes drift to her as he offers something of a mental laugh to her. He's entertained, and this within itself seems to ease her former bitterness and frustration - and maybe she can get him to open up just yet. <My young girl, you are connected to the Dreamer - you all are. You were merely fractured by both of his means, at first, your race's pride of being artists. Second, the Dreamer's realisation that Science and reason would have to prevail in the name of your survival. A plant, as you know, does not simply stay as a sapling. It does not stay so close to its roots within the ground, but it branches and grows, does it not? A race is similar, as they all are. If you were to regress so often, and stay as you all were in the past, it would be.. concerning. It would have been possible you would have never made it this far, and your species would have died off, even if it hadn't been for the divine intervention of the First Creations of your Universe.> She listens, or more or less, absorbs this information and speech within her mind, as they finally come across a doorway to a much darker, dimly lit room, where they both proceed in entering. Within the confines of this space was luminescent cloth, followed by rows of lights embedded within the walls. Not only this, but the room was well renowned for its cataloging of books, discs, screens - and any other possible information they might have been provided. Some of it had been found on travels across other universes and worlds, and some of it had been salvaged from the Great Library itself. "You have a valid point - although there is little plant-life worth seeking in this darkened gloom, and you have yet to take me to the surface. I suppose it would be absurd if we stayed closer to our roots, but in a way I wish I could. Be the artist, the manipulator, work closely with these dreams and those about it." <Wanting something and needing it are two different things-> "You tell me often, but there is something else you said - intervention of the First Creations? In what way do you mean? You told me about The Deceiver, how he had essentially corrupted a part of our universe, if not all of it. Do you mean something of his had intervened within our existence?" Her mentor seems to pause, stiffen for a moment, before he slowly nods. <Yes. Kutiel, if you remember me speaking of her - she was your saviour. Nor did The Deceiver corrupt your universe, or world, it is indeed factual that without him your race would not exist. Put aside your bitterness, darling Aamu, and see the truth in these faults and errors. His daughter had saved your lives, and guided you through her very element to shield you from the fate of the Gods. She is the reason you hold your place in the sea - and while you may have not seen a plant yet, on the surface, you are incorrect when it comes to plant-life of the sea. There is still so much of your own world, still unexplored. You will see both, in due time. Patience, my student, patience. It is key.>