Lay Calculator (Advanced) - Trickybet

This is long (TL:DR at the bottom). I hope it provides some entertainment and leads you to think about the story in a different way. Yes, you can blame this on the long wait.
 
The chapter is titled "Lanre Turned" and it's Skarpi's story of Lanre and Selitos. It's a story about a namer who lost an eye and gained a better sight. It's also a story about a man skilled with a sword who relies on the strength of his arm.

Lanre had fought since he could lift a sword, and by the time his voice began to crack he was the equal of a dozen older men.

It's about the Creation War but we are missing a key piece of information. Not only are there namers, there are shapers. Shapers who not only see a thing and understand it, they seek mastery over it and change it. And there are other things in the world. PR has made the comment that there are a whole cvilization of these people. In the middle of all this is Lanre, who appears to be just a man with no skill at naming. In some ways Lanre is a man walking beside gods.
 
We know from the story that something happens to Lyra.

Then rumors began to spread: Lyra was ill. Lyra had been kidnapped. Lyra had died. Lanre had fled the empire. Lanre had gone mad. Some even said Lanre had killed himself and gone searching for his wife in the land of the dead.

And Lanre tries to do something about it.

Selitos, his eyes unveiled, looked at his friend. He saw how Lanre, nearly mad with grief, had sought the power to bring Lyra back to life again. Out of love for Lyra, Lanre had sought knowledge where knowledge is better left alone, and gained it at a terrible price.

The strength of his arm is not enough. Lanre is going to need power, and it's power he gains through knowledge. Presumably it is to bring Lyra back from the dead. We know he gets it and does something rash or thoughtless with it. Ben reinforces this idea when Kvothe gets a double lesson on the dangers of being thoughtless.

Ben taught me others. A dozen dozen sympathetic bindings. A hundred little tricks for channeling power. ... Ben continued giving me a smattering of lessons in other areas: history, arithmetic, and chemistry. But I grabbed at whatever he could teach me about sympathy... I don't mean to imply that the road was always smooth. The same curiosity that made me such an eager student also led me into trouble with fair regularity.

 
What "trouble" is Kvothe referring to? If your first thought was binding the air to his lungs, you would be wrong. The very next sentence:

One evening as I was building up my parent's cookfire, my mother caught me chanting a rhyme

His mother overhears the Lackless rhyme.

“It's nothing to cry over, sweet one. Just remember to always think about what you're doing.”

 
Kvothe is being thoughtless. Ben is going to tell him the same thing the day he binds the air to his lungs.

In hindsight, what I had done was glaringly stupid. When I bound my breath to the air outside, it made it impossible for me to breathe.

Now it's time for Ben to lecture Kvothe and Lanre is the object lesson.

“I'm doing this all wrong. Never mind your father's song. We'll talk about it after he finishes it. Knowing Lanre's story might give you some perspective.” ... “What if you give him a sword?”
Realization started to dawn on me, and I closed my eyes. “More, much more. I understand, Ben. Really I do. Power is okay, and stupidity is usually harmless. Power and stupidity together are dangerous.”
“I never said stupid,” Ben corrected me. “You're clever. We both know that. But you can be thoughtless. A clever, thoughtless person is one of the most terrifying things there is. Worse, I've been teaching you some dangerous things.”

 
If you walk away from Ben's conversation with the knowledge that Lanre did something thoughtless you would be right. But that's just half the picture. Lanre was clever. In Denna's version of the song, he cleverly tricks Selitos.

Selitos was a tyrant, an insane monster who tore out his own eye in fury at Lanre’s clever trickery.

  Tricking Selitos was clever, but it wasn't thoughtless. What he does to Selitos was calculated and successful. Lanre needs to DO something clever AND do it in a thoughtless way.
 

Lanre was dead. Lyra wept brokenly and touched his face with trembling hands. All around men turned their heads, because the bloody field was less horrible to look upon than Lyra's grief.
But Lanre heard her calling. Lanre turned at the sound of her voice and came to her. From beyond the doors of death Lanre returned.

By sheer force of will Lanre turned and came to her. Here's a question that's worth pondering: Did Lyra bring Lanre back from the dead or did Lanre return of his own will? It's actually his act, more than hers. Lyra had given up, but Lanre turned. That same will he sets to bringing Lyra back when she dies. But just his will won't be enough.
 

Lanre needs power.

Selitos, his eyes unveiled, looked at his friend. He saw how Lanre, nearly mad with grief, had sought the power to bring Lyra back to life again. Out of love for Lyra, Lanre had sought knowledge where knowledge is better left alone, and gained it at a terrible price.

Despite having no ability with names, Lanre gains power through knowledge. Lanre has learned something or been taught something or has acquired something. It's power unrecognizable and foreign to all the namers walking around. Namers and shapers who have always relied on their naming abilities and nothing else. What power can someone acquire that at its simplest only requires a strong will and knowledge? A power that even a young boy can learn from a traveling arcanist?
 
Lanre becomes a sympathist.
 
There's a great example we are given of someone being bound with sympathy.
Kvothe grabs a hair from Devi to use for his binding.

As I came into the room I tripped on the threshold, stumbling clumsily into her and resting one hand briefly on her shoulder as I steadied myself.

Lanre puts his hand on Selitos' shoulder.

Lanre turned and placed his hand on Selitos' shoulder. “Silanxi, I bind you...”

 
Devi gets control and binds Kvothe.

But Devi had heat to spare right now, and her binding was like being shut in an iron vise. I couldn’t move my arms or legs, or jaw, or tongue. I could barely breathe, only taking tiny, shallow breaths that didn’t require any movement of my chest.

Notice how similar the outcome is to Selitos (while reminding us that Lanre has no gift for names).

Lanre had no gift for names - his power lay in the strength of his arm. For him to attempt to bind Selitos by his name would be as fruitless as a boy attacking a soldier with a willow stick. Nevertheless, Lanre's power lay on him like a great weight, like a vise of iron, and Selitos found himself unable to move or speak. He stood, still as stone and could do nothing but marvel: how had Lanre come by such power?

Think about this from the viewpoint of Selitos. Selitos is a namer who thinks in terms of naming. He has no understanding of sympathy, that's why he can't recognize or understand Lanre's power. At the beginning I mentioned this was a story about namers that left out something crucial: shaping. If you are telling a story about namers, everything is viewed from that perspective. The story itself doesn't acknowledge anything but naming.
Knowing that shaping and sympathy exist, is it possible that what actually happened is Lanre spoke sympathetic bindings while the story portrays it in the only perspective Selitos would understand? This is why Selitos thinks his sight fails him - because he has no knowledge of sympathy. Sympathy is power to anyone with a will and knows the correct bindings.

“Silanxi, I bind you. By the name of stone, be still as stone. Aeruh, I command the air. Lay leaden on your tongue. Selitos, I name you. May all your powers fail you but your sight.”

Let's talk about the oliphant in the room. Lanre says he names Selitos. Yet this is a story about naming only.

“All stories are true,” Skarpi said. “But this one really happened, if that's what you mean.” He took another slow drink, then smiled again, his bright eyes dancing. “More or less. You have to be a bit of a liar to tell a story the right way.

This story really happened. But how it happens could be debatable. Consider this...replace 'name' in the passage to reference sympathetic bindings.

“Silanxi, I bind you. By the binding of stone, be still as stone. Aeruh, I command the air. Lay leaden on your tongue. Selitos, I bind you. May all your powers fail you but your sight.”

 

What Lanre planned with his new power

Some even said Lanre had killed himself and gone searching for his wife in the land of the dead.

Lanre is a man who has commanded other men and stood side-by-side with namers. He married one of the greatest namers of the time. Lanre has come back from the dead through sheer force of will. Now he is setting his will to bring Lyra back. And I'm willing to bet Lanre has a will like the sea in storm. Instead of will, let's call it what it really is: alar.
He has the alar and knowledge of the sympathetic bindings. He needs to kill himself, which isn't much of an impediment. It's the return that's the difficult part. And there's another issue. When he dies, all his bindings will be broken...

How odd to watch a mortal kindle Then to dwindle day by day. Knowing their bright souls are tinder And the wind will have its way. Would I could my own fire lend. What does your flickering portend?

When Lanre's light goes out, his bindings will fail. There's a third thing Lanre needs for sympathy at this level and it solves all his problems: a power source. It needs to be extremely powerful and it can't be exhausted like Devi's poor-boy.

Lanre needs an ever-burning lamp.
 

Lanre's power source

When Kvothe is in Haert he takes water from the hot springs as a potential energy source.

A small stoppered bottle of water from the baths. I closed my fist tightly around the last. Most people don’t understand how much heat water holds inside it. That is why it takes so long to boil. Despite the fact that the scalding-hot pool I had pulled this from was more than half a mile away, what I held in my hand was of better use to a sympathist than a glowing coal.

 
An ever-burning lamp would provide an endless supply of energy for a sympathist to tap into. But the closest we get to them are Kilvin's experiments.
 

“No sympathy. I do not want an ever-glowing lamp. I want an ever-burning one.” (Kilvin-NotW Ch.36)

There's a clear difference between ever-glowing and ever-burning. Kilvin seems to believe that to be ever-burning it cannot be made with sympathy. So why no sympathy? Because bindings will eventually be broken? I'm not sure how sympathy can still give you an ever-glowing lamp, but for now let's assume a process other than sympathy is required for an ever-burning lamp.

After a moment of maneuvering through the maze of timber and iron, we came to the hanging row of glass spheres with fires burning inside them.
“These,” Kilvin gestured, “are my lamps.”
It was only then that I realized what they were. Some were filled with liquid and wicking, much like ordinary lamps, but most of them were utterly unfamiliar. One contained nothing but a boiling grey smoke that flickered sporadically. Another sphere contained a wick hanging in empty air from a silver wire, burning with a motionless white flame despite its apparent lack of fuel.
Two hanging side by side were twins save that one had a blue flame and the other was a hot-forge-orange. Some were small as plums, others large as melons. One held what looked like a piece of black coal and a piece of white chalk, and where the two pieces were pressed together, an angry red flame burned outward in all directions.
...
“Hmmm. You should. White lithium salt. I thought of it three span before you came to us. It is good so far, twenty-four days and I expect many more.” He looked at me. “Your guessing this thing surprised me, as it took me ten years to think of it. Your second guess, sodium oil, was not as good. I tried it years ago. Eleven days.”

 
What I take away from this: An ever-burning lamp is self-contained, can be small as a plum, and potentially made with salt. It can be an easily portable source of energy a sympathist can draw from that never burns out.
 

Clever and Thoughtless

I said before I thought Lanre needs to DO something that is clever AND thoughtless. We think of Ben's example of Lanre as being thoughtless with power. But what if it is directly related to sympathy and what Kvothe did? Kvothe binds himself to something he shouldn't have. What if Lanre did the same? This is where I think Lanre is both clever and thoughtless.
Lanre binds an ever-burning lamp to himself.
 
It fits the imagery of a power burning in Lanre, much like an ever-burning lamp.

But just as Lyra's love had drawn him back from past the final door before, so this time Lanre's power forced him to return from sweet oblivion. His new-won power burned him back into his body, forcing him to live. ...
“I can kill you,” Selitos said, then looked away from Lanre's expression suddenly hopeful. “For an hour, or a day. But you would return, pulled like iron to a loden-stone. Your name burns with the power in you. I can no more extinguish it than I could throw a stone and strike down the moon.”

It gives him a limitless power source for his sympathy and ensures his light will never go out (so to speak). It allows him to return from the dead, because the sympathetic binding holds that Lanre is like an ever-burning lamp and cannot be extinguished. But something goes wrong. Maybe the binding is made permanent because of the lamp's nature. Perhaps he didn't consider some facet of it, like Kvothe binding the air to his lungs. Perhaps the binding was held so tight, he couldn't get it undore. Maybe someone stole his ever-burning lamp and hid it away, forcing Lanre to live eternal. Perhaps the binding can't be undone because it would make him mortal and violate the original intent of bringing him back from the dead.
 

Considerations, puzzle pieces, outright ramblings

THE CTHAEH
Where would Lanre even learn sympathy? The Cthaeh, of course.

Bast shook his head, his face pale and drawn. “Not wrong, Reshi, catastrophic. Jax spoke to the Cthaeh before he stole the moon, and that sparked the entire creation war. Lanre spoke to the Cthaeh before he orchestrated the betrayal of Myr Tariniel.
The Cthaeh knows everything you’re ever going to do. Everything you’re going to say

A perfectly malicious creature that can see all futures already knows every sympathetic binding that will ever be taught or spoken at the University. How entertaining would it be to the Cthaeh to teach Lanre sympathy, overthrow the namers and shapers, and watch the chaos? Kind of reminds me of Prometheus stealing fire from the gods and giving it to mankind.
 
BROKEN SWORDS
Whether or not copper actually has a name is a debate for another time. Personally I suspect it does. I believe that's why stories sometimes differ on sword composition. It's relative to the time and event. Lanre carries a silver sword because namers of silver are extremely rare or he is planning to encounter someone he knows can't name silver. Same with Marten's story of Taborlin and the copper sword.
Whether you believe copper has a name or not, I think you can agree that the following is a true statement: A copper sword is a great way to kill a namer ... if he can't name copper. But isn't that true of any material provided the individual can't name it?
Sympathy makes the copper debate irrelevant. A copper sword is useless against a sympathist with the right materials and bindings. (Yes, I realize I am making an assumption that copper has a binding). Consider Kvothe and the fake Ruh, merely picture copper instead of iron:

But I was ready. I slid a second long, brittle piece of sword-iron into my hand and muttered a binding. Then, just as he came close enough to strike I snapped the iron sharply between my fingers. His sword shattered with the sound of a broken bell, and the pieces tumbled and disappeared in the dark grass.

Perhaps this is why Haliax is associated with broken sword imagery? No sword can stand against him. I'm not sure how the Adem swords fit in with this. Perhaps they were shaped, perhaps they are a sympathy equivalent to 'nameless', they are 'bindless'. Although it does appear there is foreshadowing that Kvothe is going to break one.
 
LACKLESS RHYME
The first lecture Kvothe gets on being thoughtless was for reciting this rhyme.

One a sharp word, not for swearing (a spoken binding) Right beside her husband's candle (ever-burning) There's a door without a handle In a box, no lid or locks Lackless keeps her husband's rocks (a plum-sized ever-burning lamp)

 
ALEPH
In true Skarpi fashion I'll start this by talking about Selitos.

Just by looking at a thing Selitos could see its hidden name and understand it. In those days there were many who could do such things, but Selitos was the most powerful namer of anyone alive in that age.

Remember at the beginning, I said this was a story about namers. All Selitos can do is see and understand. But others are skilled at names. How they use that skill we don't know for sure.

Selitos knew that in all the world there were only three people who could match his skill in names: Aleph, Iax, and Lyra.

That leads us to the incomplete second story. We miss the beginning and we don't know why Selitos and others come before Aleph. I've often tried to put Lanre on one side or the other, but what if he torched both sides? Could Aleph represent the shapers and this is actually a parley between the namers and the shapers? Lanre's new power represents a danger to the old order. Now any mortal with an alar and knowledge of the bindings has magic at their disposal.
 
INNER TURNINGS

“Who knows the inner turnings of your name, Cinder?”

This is the most problematic thing I can see for this theory. This seems to imply Haliax is able to name Cinder and use his name against him. Whether or not he is actually naming him (like Kvothe did Felurian) I'm not sure. I've always thought Selitos cursed them by their true calling names. Ferule, Stercus, Usnea, etc.

Your own name will be turned against you

That could be what Haliax is actually manipulating Cinder with. Speaking their names causes them actual physical pain. I've wondered if Ferule/Ferula could be an Adem name. Different meanings based on the pronunciation and Haliax knows their meanings. There is an English phrase this reminds me of: 'turn the screws', which essentially means to exert pressure on someone. Lanre turned, after all. He's still turning present day.
Of course that doesn't work if Cinder could do the same. Maybe he doesn't actually know Haliax's true calling name. Or he changed his name. Or perhaps the person who is Haliax today isn't the same person from the story...
There's a question that's been nagging at me and it is rooted in Shehyn's story. If Cinder is an alias for Ferul(a/e) ... and Haliax is an alias for Alaxel ... how does the name 'Lanre' fit in? Was he Lanre before, changed his name to Alaxel, but gets called Haliax? Pardon me, Lord Haliax.
 
UNDER SHADOW FALLING

This is my doom upon you. May your face be always held in shadow, black as the toppled towers of my beloved Myr Tariniel.

If Lanre is basically an ever-burning lamp, how fitting is it that Selitos curses him with darkness?
 
HAL-
If an ever-burning lamp can be made with salt, is that another clue in Haliax's name?
Hal- in Latin can mean "breath". But it can also mean salt.
You can see this in the naming of common rock salt which is Halite.

Lackless keeps her husband's rocks

Okay maybe not that one. But...

I sow salt because the choice is between weeds and nothing

and

“No,” said Lanre. He stood to his full height, his face regal behind the lines of grief. “There is nothing sweet. I will sow salt, lest the bitter weeds grow.”

 
-IAX
I've largely ignored Iax because I wanted to focus on how Lanre might gain power through knowledge. I think the name Haliax is too glaring to ignore. This whole thing came about from a question I kept asking myself. If Lanre has no skill with names, but acquires power from knowledge, where is his power coming from? And how might he do it if it is not granted power from someone else?

Her smile faded. “but one shaper was greater than the rest. for him the making of a star was not enough. he stretched his will across the world and pulled her from her home.”

Perhaps Lanre bound himself to Iax's star (aleu?) and that's the equivalent of an ever-burning lamp... Or perhaps he is bound to the ever-moving moon that Iax pulled between worlds...
 
TL:DR Having no power with names, Lanre becomes a Sympathist seeking to bring Lyra back from the dead. In order to search for her in the land of the dead, he binds an ever-burning lamp to himself in a clever but thoughtless use of sympathy that he can't undo.
 

Part 2:
Aleksei entered his cramped office and sat at his desk, lighting a cigarette. Tatyana followed in closely afterward, pausing to survey the room.
​
There was one bookshelf against the wall to the left which was sloppily filled with textbooks, encyclopedias, and loose papers. Some had even fallen from the bookshelf and lay on the floor. The only sources of light in the room were a single bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, and a desk lamp. Aleksei’s desk was directly in front of her with a chair on either side. To the right was a large chalkboard that had writings and images all over it. Nothing specific, but what you’d expect to see in a scientist’s office.
​
Though, Aleksei was no scientist. He was a former KGB officer who was transferred suddenly to lead the boots on the ground team. Partly because of his piloting experience and his reputation in Moscow. Partly because of his unwavering loyalty to the Soviet Union.
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“What do you think?” Aleksei asked as he flipped through some dossiers while taking a drag from his cigarette.
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“About what Comrade Aksynov?” Tatyana asked, unsure why he was addressing her in English. Perhaps as a test of her fluency?
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“About the team…”
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“Well,” she said, taking a seat, “they aren’t Russian that’s for sure. Surely Moscow could have sent in -” She was abruptly interrupted
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“This is how it has to be done. We couldn’t do this mission without the resources from the West. And in return, we are allowing them to participate.” He took another drag.
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“In that case.” She looked down at the clipboard. She had been taking meticulous notes throughout the briefing. “Georgina Metz. Age 32. Studied Medicine at Harvard University. Smart, confident, calculating. She’s actually really great. Have you read her research paper on - ” Aleksei waved at her to continue.
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She flipped to the next page. “Francois Leblanc. Age 48. Mechanical Engineer. University of Cambridge. Joined the French National Centre for Space Studies 18 years ago. Quite, intuitive, and ready to be led. He loves his country, and will do anything asked of him.”
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She flipped to the last page. “Mark Kirby. Age 33. Mining and Mineral Engineer and US Army Officer. Crass, brutish, and untrusting of the Soviet Union. But damn good at what he does.” Tatyana flipped back to the first page and handed her clipboard over to Aleksei.
​
He thanked her and examined the notes, going back between them and the official dossiers for a few minutes before glancing up at her.
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He then laid the clipboard to the side, checked his watch, and paused for a moment before asking, “Comrade Markov, why are you here?”
​
She was taken aback by the question. Was he not impressed with her qualifications? Did he think she was too young...too inexperienced at only 26?
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“A-as you know. I was the one who translated the voices in the audio. Linguists and anthropologists all over the Union couldn’t, but I did. What if you encounter more writing or, or, or, more voices? You need me. Not here, but there. I want to be there. The others have skills, sure, but they don’t understand as I do. I mean, we haven’t even told them what..." She stopped herself, taking a deep breath. "I want to do this. For all Mankind.”
​
She fell silent. Looking for Aleksei to react. He shook his head slightly. “No Comrade, why are you here.” He gestured to the chair she was sitting in. “It is a quarter till 6pm. You were supposed to get the team to Warehouse 3C.”
​
She put her hand to her mouth. “Вот, дерьмо!”
​
Aleksei put out his cigarette with 3 quick jabs into his ashtray before picking up the phone on his desk and dialing. Tatyana stood and quickly left the room.
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His thoughts lingered on what Tatyana had said. “For all mankind,” he said to himself.
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The line connected and he spoke into the phone, “Okay, Comrades. It’s time to get you acquainted with your new toys. Meet me in Warehouse 3C.”
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Francois, Georgina, and Kirby traveled down the hallway. They were careful to follow the signs which directed them to Warehouse 3C as this facility was huge and they did not want to spend the next hour getting lost and backtracking.
​
“Wish they at least sent someone to escort us….” Francois thought out loud as he walked through hallway after hallway with the others.
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While walking, he began reflecting on the whirlwind of events that had transpired. It was only 16 hours ago that he was sleeping soundly with his wife before being awoken suddenly by a knock on the door of his 2 bedroom apartment.
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The knock had startled his infant daughter, Marie, awake. When she began to cry his wife, Elizabeth, sat up to rock her crib. Frustrated by the situation Francois crossed his apartment and answered the door. On the other side were two men in military uniforms.
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One of the men immediately handed him a piece of paper while the other spoke. “Francois Leblanc?”
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“Uh...yes?” Francois said, looking down at the paper in his hands.
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“You are to come with us. You have been selected to participate in a top-secret mission in collaboration with other countries on behalf of France and the National Centre for Space Studies. Pack a single bag of essentials and meet us outside.” Then, men both turned and quickly walked away.
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Francois was dumbfounded. He looked down at the paper again. It was an official order from the President himself co-signed by the head of the NCSS. There were no additional details.
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Within 5 minutes Francois was packed and saying goodbye to his wife and daughter who were now both crying. “How can they just make you leave your family? Your newborn daughter? How can they just take you away in the middle of the night!” Elizabeth yelled through tears.
​
“They wouldn’t be here if it weren’t tremendously important. They probably just need some emergency consulting regarding some sort of new experimental tech they’re working on with NASA or something. Do not worry, my love. I will be back soon. Everything is okay. Je vous aime.” With that, he kissed his wife, said goodbye to his still crying daughter, and exited the apartment.
​
He was driven directly to a small airfield and then ushered aboard a military transport plane along with other similarly dazed personnel and multiple crates of equipment. This must have been more serious than he initially thought. What had he been asked to help with? Was he lying to his wife and himself when he said there was nothing to worry about?
​
Francois leaned back in his chair and buckled in, shaking the thoughts out of his head. There is no point dwelling on that now. Francois was ready to serve his country however he could, but he would be lying to himself if he didn’t acknowledge the knot that began to form in his stomach.
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“Hellooo...Earth to Francois?” Georgiana said melodically as she gave him a tap on the shoulder.
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“Oh, uh, sorry. What was that?” Francois said, seemingly coming back to the here and now.
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“Do you have anyone back home?”
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“Yes. Yes, a wife and daughter.”
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“I bet they’re very proud of you.” She said, thinking how nice it must be to have someone feel that way about you. She looked over to ask Francois another question, but he seemed to have retreated back into his own thoughts so she decided to leave him be.
​
After a few minutes, they turned a corner and arrived in yet another long hallway with brick walls and a dark concrete floor. She knew they were in the right place when she saw Tatyana waving them over to one of the doors about a third of the way down the hallway from where they stood.
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“Привет, сюда!” Tatyana yelled, continuing to wave them over. The group approached her and she led them into the room.
​
When Georgina entered the room she was immediately impressed by its size. She expected a stuffy old warehouse with crates and shelves, various mechanical equipment, tools, etc. Yet, what she entered was a large football stadium-sized room with a few tables and crates sitting just by the door they entered in. In the center was a Lunar Lander and next to it was a Moon rover.
​
Incredible what the Soviets had done here. They secretly constructed an entire facility in and under the Siberian wilderness and had done so in apparently record time. “Do the Americans have anything like this?” She thought to herself.
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The group stopped at the tables, Tatyana walked to the other side of the tables joining a tall, lanky looking scientist. “Everyone, this is Dr. Maxwell. He led the development team for everything you’ll see here today.”
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Dr. Maxwell reached out and shook their hands. “It is nice to meet you. Let’s get to it.”
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He opened a locker behind him and removed three pistols. To Georgina, they looked like something out of a science fiction novel.
​
“The Soviet Union began experimenting with lasers in the fifties and sixties. Its first laser weapons, emerging in the seventies, were fixed ground-based systems. Terra-3 and Omega. Terra-3 encompassed two different devices, installed in Kazakhstan initially conceived in the 1960s to swat down ballistic missiles in the terminal descending phase.
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The concurrently developed Omega lasers were intended to hit aircraft and missiles in the atmosphere. Omega-1 and -2 proved more successful at striking distant targets, but the system still lacked sufficient hitting power and power generation. Designing a laser that could maintain a power-efficient beam over long distances is difficult—so perhaps, I thought, the solution was to get up close.
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In 1984, my team developed a laser pistol, a precursor to what you are seeing here today. It was intended for use by Cosmonauts to damage the optics of Western satellites or blind hostile astronauts, without causing hull damage to a spacecraft. Each pull of the trigger electrically discharges a pyrotechnic flashbulb cartridge stored in an eight-round box magazine.
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However, the laser pistols inflicted very light damage—between one and ten joules of energy, equivalent to an air gun—and had an effective range of only twenty meters. The design did not advance beyond the prototype stage. Or so we reported.
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Here, at this facility, we continued our work and have created what you see before you. A true laser pistol, capable of viable use in combat”
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Yet again, as with the footage from the Moon, the group was left speechless.
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“As you can see, we do great work here,” Tatyana said proudly, standing a little taller.
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“Hell. Yes. This is awesome. I can’t wait to tell the crew back in the States about this.” Kirby grabbed one of the pistols and began aiming with it, pointing it towards a stack of crates behind the tables.
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Georgina inspected one as well. “This is truly remarkable, Doctor. Why are they so large though? Won’t these be difficult to carry and handle?”
​
“We constructed this with your EVA suits and the Moon’s lesser gravity in mind. The pistols will rest snuggly in your gloved hands and the weight will not be an issue. The size is because we do not yet have the technology to make it any more compact. But, an additional feature of this device is that since these are not projectile-based weapons, there is no recoil to worry about. Truly the best defense a Cosmonaut could ask for. Well, aside from the suit.” Dr. Maxwell said.
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Georgina stepped back. “Wait...are you all expecting we will need to use these?” She asked Tatyana.
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“Better to have it and not need it, then need it and not have it,” Aleksei said as he entered the warehouse. “After all, we wouldn’t want to equip our heroes with anything but the best. That is true Soviet hospitality.”
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“Regardless, these pistols have uses beyond that of a traditional pistol. They can work to cut or heat objects, and can even create small holes through rock and minerals with enough shots.” Dr. Maxwell said, nodding towards Aleksei as he approached.
​
“Have we given them a rundown of their transportation?” Aleksei asked.
​
“We were just about to, Comrade Aksynov.”
​
The group walked together to the center of the room where the two vehicles were located. One was a Lunar Lander and the other a rover, neither unlike that of the ones the Americans used when landing on the Moon. The only immediately identifiable difference was a large metal box affixed to the back of the rover and attached to that a long barrel ran from the back of the vehicle, down the middle, pointing out the front. It looked out of place, even to Georgina.
​
“What is that for, Doctor?” She inquired.
​
“That, Frau Metz, is for Mr. Kirby. A drill capable of cutting through the toughest material we know of. This is how you will regain access to the artifact’s chamber”
​
“Enough about that,” Aleksei interjected. “We will run through various scenarios and training for both of these. We need each of you to be able to confidently operate and troubleshoot them in case something goes wrong.
​
“And what about the shuttle itself?” Asked Francois.
​
Aleksei shook his head. “I am the pilot, it would take too long to train you all on how to operate it. Besides...this gives us some assurances.”
​
“What assurances?” Asked Kirby
​
“He means that it ensures his safety. That we protect his life by any means necessary. Because, without him, none of us are going home.” Georgina answered, crossing her arms and looking to Aleksei. She hadn’t decided if she trusted him yet, but she certainly respected him. “What have I got myself into…” she thought.
​
Aleksei began taking off his coat. Handing it to Dr. Maxwell. “Alright, it’s time to suit up and begin your training. This mission is on a tight schedule and I will not throw things off track with idle chit-chat. This is too important.”
​
“Important for who, Aleksei. You, your scientists, Moscow?”
​
Aleksei looked into Georgina’s eyes. Eyes, filled with determination. “This mission is bigger than any of us. It is vitally important that we accomplish what we are setting out to do. Find our lost team and regain access to the artifact.”
​
“Not for me, not for us. For all Mankind.”
​
- End of Part 2
​
Read Part 1: The Americans Didn't Make It to the Moon First. Their Astronauts Just Lived to Tell the Tale. : cryosleep (reddit.com)

Ha...sorry, did it again. Posted wrong chapter title.
[First], [Previous] [Next]
I got the rest of the details of the bombing from Vaughn over lunch at our hangout behind the school cafeteria.
The bomb had partially dislodged the pillar from the bridge and gravity had done the rest. The vehicle was designed to do many things, but ‘float’ wasn’t high on the list. Our primitive infrastructure and years of neglect on our bridges had worked against the troops inside. Once they hit the water they were doomed. The purps’ armour was tough enough to stop a .50 calibre bullet, but physics was still physics. Armour tough enough to withstand a bullet or homemade bomb had to be dense, and density had an unfortunate negative correlation with flotation.
The rumours spread fast after lunch. One of the ones was that among the casualties had been a kid at school’s parent- probably their mom or older sibling. I couldn’t tell whether that rumour was actually true or not. That was when I noticed someone had switched chairs in class to sit in front of me. It was a blonde kid- lanky with a head shaped a bit like a 2-nut peanut tilted vertically. He was one of the neighbours I’d grown up with as friends but hadn’t talked to in years. He was sitting in front of me, facing the wrong way around in his chair. The teacher didn’t mind- History class was barely organised anarchy at the best of times. “You didn’t do it, did you?” George asked, staring right at me. There was only one ‘it’ at the tip of everyone’s tongues.
“What? No,” I lied. Vaughn would have been proud.
“A fuckin’ shame,” George said, unexpectedly shifting the tone of the topic- because I had a feeling he didn’t mean the rumour mill about the kid’s possibly-dead relative. For all I knew they were doing that for attention. George wouldn’t have come over here to ask me about that. He-
“It was me,” the words came out of my mouth. Was he referring to the bombing as being sad, or that I didn’t know who did it as being the shame? I met his eyes, and he met mine dead-on. Words seemed to fail me right then and I stammered out “I-I’ll talk with you after school?” Not here.
“Yeah? The old daycare?” A pretty convenient halfway point between our houses back home. I nodded and he jumped up from his chair and took back his normal seat. I checked to see if he talked with anyone. George didn’t look up from his homework once the entire time or make any kind of eye contact with anyone.
The last few minutes of the period eeked out and the class emptied out. One more class to go for the day. I’d probably just put myself squarely in the rumour mill’s crosshairs. But on the off chance I hadn’t… I knew we were dead in the water anyways. Six was a start. We needed resources. We needed manpower. The more I looked at our situation the more I realised that it was doomed to failure without help.
That meant I had to cure myself of peoples’ irrational disdain for me, somehow.
Something went ‘pop’ in my head. I looked upward and asked the obvious: “
I lay down on the slide and looked up at the stars. Some of them were moving- ships overhead.
How does one become likable? All my books were on the subject of war. How does one make peace? Why does one make peace? Why was I fighting at all?
The moment those words crossed my consciousness, I felt like the careful castle I’d built around myself, my personality, all my defenses started to crumble down in the face of truth- what I thought I was doing didn’t match their effects. ‘Master and Emissary,’ dad called it one drunken time at the table before falling asleep in his chair. When you got to a certain point in your observations of what was around you, and you could no longer pretend that your view of the world was correct. I felt that I was on the verge of having an epiphany, or a mental breakdown. Which were basically the same thing. The choice of word depended on your perspective.
The immediate answer blared itself so loudly in my skull I had to mute it just so I could think for another moment. I was ‘Fighting for Justice, for Independence of Earth, for Liberation!’ All ideals, starting in the thought equivalent of capital letters. I muted them.
Fighting for Peace is like Fucking for Virginity, Carlin had once famously said on stage. That sort of made sense. War also needed an eventual outcome. If I was waging a war, then I needed an end goal beyond ‘killing people.’ Why had I settled for killing without a real goal? All this pretense of a higher cause when really, I was just angry. The sun’s set finished, crickets and cicadas starting their orchestra, but still I didn’t tear my eyes off the sky. I didn’t even care if George didn’t show up anymore. I wanted answers. Had I fought just to fight? To have something to lash out at over the way my life was going?
Who was I? What was I? Where was my position in life? It stunk everywhere I walked. The whole world stunk of hypocrisy. If it stinks everywhere you walk, look under your foot.
Just like that, a thought occurred to me that froze everything in its place:
...Am I a bad person?
And like that, the whole world fell away, even the slide I was resting on. It’s hard to say what the exact thoughts were that went through my mind. Words are discrete and used to best-fit thoughts which are so rarely fully a perfect match. When something like this happens, how do you even give a sublime experience enough words, when they are building blocks used mostly used for the mundane? I lay and watched the stars overhead as my mind raced at a million miles an hour. Spaceships. Honest to god Spaceships. How long had it been since I’d been filled with a sense of anything other than hatred and anger? How long since I’d felt genuinely awed by something I’d once thought impossible now carried out as if it were routine and within grasp?
I put my hand up and reached for the stars, and it sank into me just how vast space was. Something I’d once felt flipping through pages of my old NASA book in Dad’s library- realising that for the gigantic scale of a Saturn V rocket, it didn’t even make a tenth of one percent of the distance it travelled to the Moon, our nearest non-artificial solid object in Space. Given the scope and scale, I knew then that there was something wrong with my motives and goals. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
I certainly had room for improvement. The meaning of Dr. Harriet’s words slammed me like a freight train- or a falling Dodge Minivan. My outcomes so far, objectively, were terrible. People flat out didn’t like me. For someone so outcome-obsessive I had missed the terribly obvious. How many years had it been since I’d met or hung out with anyone? I’d become something hideous and hadn’t even seen it. Something about me needed to change. I needed to keep a more open mind to others’ perspectives. I needed to stop assuming I knew everything. I was only thirteen. I was involved in a war for our planet that I was fighting for reasons that even I didn’t fully grasp, but knew whatever justification I’d give if pressed would ring false even in my own ears.
I was finally shaken from my thoughts by the sound of footsteps kicking over ankle height grasses. I sat up from the slide. George was approaching, looking nervous.
“You came,” I said. I realised I sounded surprised.
“You’re here.” He didn’t sound any different to me in his opinion.
“It was us.” I said, sitting up. I walked over to the swingset adjacent to the swing. Fresh chains and a seat had gone on to the old metal frame.
“Who’s ‘us’?”
“Secret.”
“Do you even know?”
“Uh…no, I don’t know everyone in it. It’s sort of cell-based.” French Resistance tactics- no one would know how big the resistance was, not even the people running it. This made sure that even if a leader got nabbed it kept at least some of the movement alive. That was how it was supposed to be. In reality it was just Vaughn and I, but George didn’t need to know that. I wasn’t sure why I was so paranoid of counterintelligence; A seven foot tall masked, curvy woman with dark hair who spoke through a translator was probably not very likely to get far. Still. Principles were principles. I realised belatedly that I’d probably just blown his cooperation, and searched for a better thing to say when he answered me.
“Right, that does make sense. Look, I’ll get my dad-” now that blew my mind. This was a quiet neighbourhood. Hardly the place I suspected to find sympathisers to bomb-laying maniacs. If we had sympathisers here then we could get them anywhere. “-just before I go. You’re not bullshitting?”
It was time to lay my cards on the table. “I built the bombs. I’m actually out of them now and could really use the help.”
“That makes sense. You’re not the type to set off a bomb.” I didn’t feel like correcting him about the fact that I’d tried for the first attempting bombing. Right now if he came back with a Shil’vati platoon I could still be a kid who was lying to impress someone. If I started naming other incidents and that hypothetical happened, then I’d be signing my own death warrant.
“Meet at the town library?” I still needed to return Fighters in the Shadows. “Not exactly great to be meeting in a park at night.”
“Why not my place?”
“You get tagged at home, they just start snagging anyone who shows up. Lots of people use the library.”
“No one normal uses a library.”
I wanted to counter with ‘I use the library!’ It was where I got most of my books. Then I halted and realised I’d be starting an argument over nothing.
“Fine, what do you have in mind?” I challenged George. He looked unsure. I guess I’d made a point.
“Library.” I reiterated. “Eight thirty. Tell your dad. Do you have others?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright. Bring a few, but only the ones you really need to be there. Bring a mask, and tell them to do the same. Don’t be an idiot and wear it on your way over, that would look so suspicious.”
“Okay. See you at eight.”
Dinner was over with hardly a word. I took a breathing mask I used to protect myself from mixing chemical ingredients and slipped out through the basement, making my way away from the Library. I didn’t want to be seen going. I had called Vaughn, using code words. He said he wasn’t coming. I was on my own, and was going to need to ask his questions for him. I know he took a different bus home from school, so him getting over here tonight on short notice was not something we’d prepared for.
I took my cell phone out and turned it off, then doubled-back and made my way to the library.
The ‘library,’ was quite literally a room set inside an old converted barn, filled with bookshelves without so much as an electrical outlet, let alone a PC. It kept track of loans with those olden-style stamps that rotated numbers and an inkpad. Returns and check-outs were entirely honour-system based, something I’d taken advantage of repeatedly to avoid getting on any sort of a list given the books I’d checked out. A volunteer librarian would occasionally keep track of overdues and send reminders. There were two doors, and given that the refurbished old barn was mostly used as a venue, we weren’t likely to get intruded on. I sat in the chair and tried to summon back those thoughts. As disturbing though the thoughts of my own insecurities were, they were less scary than the thought of what might be coming for me if I’d screwed up. I slipped the mask on and tried to control my breathing.
The door opened right as I began to question again why I was doing it all for, and was still short of answers. In strode the broad shoulders of George’s father, Vern, whose bright eyes scanned the room. “Ay,” he said, almost jovially. “I have to admit, I did not expect it to be you of all people.” He even let loose a surprisingly mirthful chuckle.
“Yeah,” I said, realising I also knew who was behind him with a pit in my stomach. This was bad. None of them were wearing masks- so much for that plan. Worse, I knew all of the two people who had come. Both were neighbours. My mouth was a little dry. “I sort of expected more and less at the same time.”
“The Army get the shit kicked out of them and that scared most everyone into just giving up,” Larry said at the one tone of voice the man had- loud.
“Not you though?” I asked.
“Fuck no,” laughed Larry. Larry was the local mechanic who had made a decent living off running a few local outlets. His shoulders rolled a little as he sat back, resting his giant beer belly on his thighs. “I bled too much for this old nation to see it kick the bucket just because some suits say so.” He took a seat opposite me and then leaned forward, examining me.
“I think we should take our cell phones, and turn them off.” We three looked amongst each other, but we did it. “I know I’m young, but I’ve been reading about guerilla warfare for a long time. Electronic warfare is the newest thing- keeping tabs on people. Metadata. That sort of thing. That was when we had a country and constitution protecting our privacy. Whether we think so or not, what was once our human government works for the Shil’vati now. That means whatever tools we used to go after our foreign enemies and terrorists, we are now in the crosshairs of. Heck, the Eggplants shot down all our satellites, yet our cell phones are working again. My bet is they’re routing it through Shil’vati ships. If you think it’s safe to talk with your cell phone on you, or through your cell phone, you’re wrong.”
“Alright, kid,” Larry said, looking annoyed even though I probably had a point. “We didn’t come here to turn off our cell phones like we’re in a movie theatre. Let’s get down to brass tacks?” It both was a double edged sword that everyone knew me. If they were captured, and tortured, I might be rolled over onto. On the other hand, if I backed down now, the movement would die. Time to take another calculated risk.
I took a deep breath. “I blew a bomb on the highway. It didn’t work- the first time. Those vehicles are tough. Then one of my cell members took one of my bombs and blew it on the highway, and now they’ve got casualties. Of our cell members, I’m the bomb maker.”
“‘Cell members’?” He quoted, leaning back.
“We operate on anonymity. If he gets captured, he can only tattle on me and maybe one other person. He doesn’t know you two for example, and you don’t know him. So, if one of you gets captured and talks...”
“Yeah, but you do know him.”
“True, but it will take them time, and hopefully he’ll notice that I disappeared. All it takes is one person to refuse to talk and they’re back at a dead end in rolling up the resistance.” I met their eyes. “That’s why I asked for masks and for only a few members to show up.”
“Yeah well, I changed your diapers when I babysat for you, I think I’d know you in a heartbeat, mask or no.”
I shrugged. “Still a good idea.” I forced myself to not correct or talk-down to a grown-up, but also couldn’t admit to looking foolish here. “But you’re right.”
Verns and Larry exchanged a meaningful glance. “Alright, you’ve got our attention. What’s your bomb composition? How are you making these?”
So I slowly let them in on what I’d been doing, and what the plan was- to keep the Shil’vati from getting to where they were taking their armour off and walking around with impunity. To where they fully integrated with our society.
“That’s good work, kid. You got six through your work. It’s a real start, and shows promise.” Verns said it straightforwardly. “We meet at Lucky’s. I’ll bring you in. You can wear the mask if you want, but I think a few will recognise you anyways.” Luckys was a local tavern.
It seemed agreed upon. “I think we can help each other.”
“Why are you doing this?” Larry asked, at last. “You are the last person I expected to be in that chair.” Verns just nodded along.
“Why isn’t everyone?” I asked- it was a question that rang true in my ears. I had suspicions on the answer- fear. Everyone was afraid of the Shil’vati. “We’re scared, but I don’t think they’d kill us all. When they realised that they didn’t need to, that’s when we let them have our planet, to do whatever they want with us. We need to show the world that they can be hurt, that they’re not invincible. Then we can get our planet back.”
They exchanged another look. “Well, that’s a pretty good answer,” Larry seemed to accept the answer.
“Come by Lucky’s tomorrow after school. We’ve got a few people for you to meet. Bring one of your gadgets.”
“I’m mostly out of material.”
“We’ll get you more, bring what you’ve got. That mask idea’s a good one, but everyone there will recognise you. That much I can guarantee.”
I had a sinking feeling in my gut when he said that and couldn’t quite pin down why.

The Last Precursor is an HFY-exclusive web-serial which focuses on the exploits of the last living human amidst a galaxy of unknown aliens. With his species all but extinct and now only known as the ancient Precursors, how will Admiral José Rodriguez survive in this hostile universe? Make sure to read the earlier chapters first if you missed them!
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Previous Part
Part 001
.......................................
"Graugh! I bet you have missed the taste of authentic Kraktol cuisine while you've been away!"
Lord Drall sits at a small, rectangular table with his two daughters, Megla and Sapphire, as well as his half-daughter, Soren. Soren and Megla sit on one side, while Drall and Sapphire sit on the other. The small family throws several slimy, eel-like fish into their mouths and swallows them whole, laughing and joking as they devour the food, while a few other groups of Kraktol eat their food with noticeably less gusto, mostly from having eaten the same things for several weeks during their trip to Tarus II.
Megla's tongue slides between the cracks in her teeth, picking up a bit of meat that wedged itself between a pair of molars.
"Kyargh! You might not believe me, father, but the Admiral's ship can create food worth going to war over! Of course, there's something special about home-cooking I can't ever forget!"
While her sister wolfs down the slimy eels, Soren eats much more slowly and deliberately. "We would have eaten in the Bloodbearer's cafeteria, but Kisa's incident made us leave early. I suppose Salted Molwar is a fine alternative."
"You do not sound particularly enthusiastic," Drall says, as he slides another Molwar down his throat. "Graugh! Have you forgotten about your homeworld's delicacies?"
Soren sighs. She folds her claws in her lap, leaving the rest of her plate only half-eaten. "I'm sorry, Lord Drall. I'm simply not that hungry."
"You may call me 'father,'" Drall says. The Kraktol leader pauses his voracious eating to look his half-daughter in the eye. "I know you are an orphan. Still, you grew up in the same nest as Megla. I may not have sired you, but I cannot in good conscience leave you without a family."
Soren lowers her head. "You are too gracious... father."
"Graugh! See? Does that not sound better? Such a pleasant word, it rolls right off the tongue!"
Lord Drall resumes gorging, while Sapphire mimics Soren and pushes her plate away half-eaten. "Half-sister Soren, have you and the Admiral performed the Fatüri?"
"Cough, cough!" Megla gags, nearly choking on her food. "S-Sapphire! Must you speak of such matters at the dinner table?"
Drall chuckles. "Come now, daughter. Sapphire is a blunt and bold girl, like her mother. I find it to be her most endearing quality. You always know where you stand with her."
The blue and green-scaled Kraktol bats her eyes. "Well, Soren? Did you? Or maybe Megla? Perhaps both of you, at the same time?"
"We did not," Soren answers, her expression even. "The Admiral has no reproductive interest in any species beyond his own."
"To lose out on his genes would be a shame," Sapphire mutters, while looking away from the table, toward the galley's entrance. "The Kraktol are not like other sentients. We know that bodily power comes from the strong breeding with the strong. I want my spawn to defeat me in combat, one day. Father keeps introducing me to subpar males, one after the other, but all of them are weaker than me. Unsuitable."
"Your standards are too high!" Drall laughs. "The Börkon's third great-grandson; how did he not satisfy your needs? In appearance, physique, and temperament... he was every bit your match!"
"Being my 'match' is not good enough," Sapphire harrumphs. She tilts her head up proudly, exposing her soft, leathery neck. "My partner must be capable of overpowering me... holding me down, making me roar with frustration. I will not accept a stalemate. If he cannot dominate me, our spawn will be weaker than the sum of our parts."
Megla resumes eating, somewhat slower than before. "Kyargh! You are right, yes. A mighty partner will lead to mightier hatchlings. But there are only so many top-tier partners available, while Kraktol males tend to be weaker than us females. I think you may end up dying alone."
"Not if I perform the Fatüri with your Admiral," Sapphire answers, her tone firm. "That is why I asked if you hadn't done so already. If you haven't, then his seed will fertilize my eggs flawlessly. I cannot let this chance slip through my claws! Admiral Rodriguez took down Orgon the Betrayer, one of our best warriors; our strongest males. If my beloved José does not meet my qualifications, nobody will!"
Soren crosses her arms. "Your attempts will bear no fruit, half-sister. The Admiral... he will never accept your advances."
"How do you know?" Sapphire counters. "Have you tried pursuing him?"
"...I haven't." Soren answers.
"Well, there, see?" Sapphire laughs. "You won't know unless you try. The Admiral is broken and alone. His species is dead, and he has nowhere to call home. He requires a companion. Naturally, with some convincing, I will fill that role, while he will fill my-"
"Please, not another word," Megla says, gagging once again. "You're making it impossible for me to enjoy this delicious Molwar! Speaking of which... are you going to finish yours?"
Soren and Sapphire both push their plates toward Megla in unison. "Have at it."
"Kyargh! It's my lucky day!" Megla laughs.
...
Half an hour passes. The four Kraktol continue chatting about a great many things, mostly banal observations, musings on life and the galaxy, and occasionally some juicy gossip.
"Sister, have you met Kilgore?" Sapphire asks Megla. "He is our one-seventh Algaru-brother."
"Kilgore?" Megla asks, after burping from the multiple plates of food she's finished. "I don't know him."
"He is one of Father's favorite children," Sapphire explains, a pouty expression playing upon her face. "Even more so than me."
Drall bares a toothy grin. "Ah, finally, a discussion not involving female pursuits. Aye, Kilgore joined us on our journey. I worried your Admiral might blow our ship out of the air, and thus, bring about the death of one of the remnant Algaru... but luckily, cooler heads prevailed."
Soren cocks her head. "Speaking of which, what happened to the Algaru? I know the Mallali exterminated them during the Retribution War, but I don't know how. Could you elaborate?"
"I'd like to know, too," Megla chimes in. "I've heard rumors; we all have. But you fought on the frontlines during that era. Surely, you must know more than the asteroid miner-slaves."
Lord Drall continues to smile, but only for a moment. His expression dims noticeably, and eventually, the smile disappears.
"Brutal days, those were."
Drall lowers his head.
"The Algaru. They were our cousins. An adjacent species of sorts. We bred with them on occasion, and they, with us. We suffered in slave mines, the same as them. Though smaller than the Kraktol, the Algaru were fierce and brave. Self-sacrificing. Better than us, in many ways."
After pausing for a moment, Drall slowly reaches toward the sleeve on his right arm. He pulls it back, revealing the brand-mark of a Kraktol symbol, one symbolizing a star and moon.
"My blood-brother, Hataru. He was an Algaru. I saved him from a Kessu slavemaster's wrath, killed our master, and hid the body. He swore a blood-debt to me for saving his life. He paid it back ten times over, rescuing me from too many life-and-death situations for me to count. Even so, he always told me it wasn't enough. We branded ourselves with this mark, swearing to protect one another's families until we died."
The table's mood turns somber as Drall's daughters listen to his war-story. Sapphire, seated beside her father, reaches over and gently touches the brand.
"What does it mean?" Sapphire asks.
"The star represents the burning fury of the Algaru; their fiery hearts," Drall explains. "The moon represents the calm and placid nature of the Kraktol. Though we were not as fiery as the Algaru, that did not mean we were not cold-blooded killers capable of terrifying deeds. I performed many heinous, unforgivable acts during that era, yet Hataru never judged me. He knew what our victory or defeat meant."
Drall sighs. "The reason our cousins perished... it was a deliberate act of self-conflagration. Their reproductive speed was slower than ours. They struggled to repopulate, and thus, began to dwindle in number, while the Kraktol soared."
"That is why," Drall continues, "In a final brave, but suicidal act, the Algaru navy worked together to turn all of their ships into battering rams. They flew into one of the Mallali core worlds at sublight speeds, killing billions of our accursed enemies. It was the ultimate act of defiance. It signified their resolve; their commitment to never again walk as slaves. They would rather perish in a final blaze of glory than give up and surrender to their enemies."
Megla's eyes turn misty. She wipes away her tears and sniffles. "That... that must have been a hard day for you, father."
"It was," Drall acknowledges. "I lost my blood-brother; my best friend. In truth, the only person I've ever loved more than the Thülvik herself. Every night, before I lay my head down to rest, I turn toward the nearest star and pray for Hataru's soul. I pray that he found his way to the Primordial Swamp."
"He did," Megla says, nodding. "Definitely."
"Mmm."
Drall falls silent.
Half a minute passes before he speaks again.
"Not all of the Algaru perished in that rain of fire. The adults left their spawn to us, their cousins. We raised those who remained as best as we could. But with only a few hundred left, their blood thinned over the generations. The purebloods died out, leaving halfbreeds, quarterbloods, and now, the distant descendants of our great cousins."
Drall spreads out his claws helplessly. "I did what I could, but my best wasn't good enough. Every day, I struggle, knowing I let Hataru down. I couldn't maintain his family line. All of his descendants have watered-down their blood. They have interbred with the Kraktol so many times that barely anything remains of their proud genes. What a humiliating end for such a brave... a brave..."
The Kraktol commander balls his claws together and strikes the table.
Bang.
"Some glorious leader I am."
Sapphire rests her hand on Drall's arm.
"Do not worry, father. Someday, we will punish the Mallali. We will repay them a hundredfold for the evils they've committed. The Kraktol Empire will unite the Rodaks, overturn the Mallali's rule, and reign supreme."
Megla and Soren glance at one another for a moment, then lower their heads.
"Father..." Soren mutters. "Regarding the Admiral."
Drall raises his head.
"Yes?"
"I cannot betray him," Soren says, looking Drall in the eye. "The Admiral is precious to me. I value him in a way I haven't anyone else before, not even Megla. I can't explain my feelings. You may see him as a tool; a weapon to empower the Kraktol Empire, but if you treat him as such, you will walk away disappointed. He is powerful, yet fragile. Unyielding, yet flexible. Cold and calculating, yet compassionate."
"Yes," Megla says, agreeing with Soren. "Our Admiral is not a weapon with which you may club the Mallali to death. Once you get to know him, I think you'll understand why we've chosen to follow him to the ends of the galaxy."
Drall gazes at his daughters stonily. "I have a war to win. Your friend, the Terran, might be the key to finally burying the Mallali once and for all. I will do anything to acquire his trust."
"And that is fine by me," Soren says, "so long as that is all you pursue. If you become his friend and he chooses to help you, I won't interfere. If, however, you steal from him, hurt him, or backstab him, I will become the Kraktol Empire's greatest enemy."
Megla glances at Soren for a split-second before nodding along to her words. "And the same is true for me."
"Haha..." Drall chuckles. "To inspire such confidence in his subordinates, I've no doubt the Terran is an ally worth cherishing. I've known countless charismatic Rodaks, many of whom I considered great leaders. None of their followers displayed half your zeal. I look forward to finding out what methods the Terran will use to turn me into one of his fanatic supporters."
A quiet moment fills the air. Megla and Soren exchange a long, meaningful stare with their father, Lord Drall.
Sapphire breaks the silence which a bemused snort. "Pfft! I guess the Admiral really did perform the Fatüri with both of you!"
"Kyargh!" Megla laughs. "Your mind is a slimy sewer, sister!"
Drall slaps Sapphire's back. "Just like your mother's."
.......................................
Three hours after the Admiral first entered Kisa's room, he finally emerges. Kisa follows behind him as he steps into the corridor, her head lowered shyly.
"There's no need to fear your father or your mother as long as I'm around," José says, after not seeing the other four Kraktol aren't in the crew quarters section anymore. "Just stay close to me."
"Y-yes..." Kisa replies, her scales flushing with color. "Great Precursor, Admiral Rodriguez, sir, can't I stay here on the Bloodbearer with you, Megla, and Soren?"
"I'm fine with that," José answers. He starts walking down the narrow corridor with Kisa behind him. "But you are the Malvik, which seems to me like a position on par with a Kraktol princess; the next heir to the throne. If your father doesn't give his consent, I won't allow you to stay. You have duties to fulfill for your empire."
"B-but, you didn't need his permission for Megla and Soren to stay!" Kisa protests.
"Yes, but they aren't the Malvik," José chuckles. "Different story, different circumstances."
"...Oh."
José finds Soren's location via a ping from Umi. He navigates the Red-Tongue's inner hallways like a pro, bypassing several Kraktol along the way. Each crew-member quickly retreats and clears a path for the Terran, saluting respectfully by putting their fists over their chests. He replies with a quick nod to each one, noticing how few of them pay even the slightest attention to Kisa.
"You're not very popular around here..." José mutters, after passing the eighth crew-member. "That must be hard on you."
Kisa sighs. "Not really. I'm used to it."
After a few minutes, the two of them arrive at the galley, where they find Megla and Drall both lazily leaning back in their seats, having stuffed their faces full, while Soren and Sapphire sit upright with more dignified postures.
As if possessing a third sense attuned to the Admiral's presence, Sapphire instantly swivels her head forty-five degrees to her right, toward the galley's entry door. She spots José the moment he rounds the corner and jumps to her feet. "José! Oh, darling, you have returned! Are you hungry?"
José stifles his urge to facepalm at her coy familiarity. "Ahem. No, thank you. I already had a bite to eat with Kisa."
He steps into the cafeteria, allowing Kisa to make her presence known, behind him. When she rounds the corner, Sapphire's excited expression deflates visibly. The blue-and-green-scaled Kraktol slithers over to José's side and wraps herself around the Admiral's left arm.
"Oh, Kisa. I see that my darling José finally talked you out of your stupor."
Kisa meekly lowers her head. "S-sorry. I didn't mean to be a burden to anyone."
Drall rises from his chair, followed immediately afterward by Soren and Megla. "Graugh! All that matters is that you have finally come to your senses, my child. In any case... Admiral! Now that you've settled the matter with my daughter, I hope you'll explain to me what you intend to do next. My crew are all at your disposal!"
Soren walks over to José's side with a neutral expression. Megla follows her, but shoots a dirty look at Sapphire's clingy posture, who merely bats her eyes in return.
Unfazed by the seductress pressing herself against his arm, José ignores Sapphire's advances. "Lord Drall. We will not be able to attack the Demon Emperor on Tarus II today, tomorrow, or even for the next month. I recommend that first, you send a transmission back to your Thülvik telling her what you plan to do. After that, I'd like you to assemble all of your officers and take them to the Bloodbearer's holodeck. I'll run a performance evaluation on each one to assess their strengths and weaknesses, then decide on roles for them in the upcoming mission."
Drall nods. "Graugh! This Demon Emperor, Yama, what if he catches wind of our plans? Is he able to flee the planet?"
"Probably not," José replies. "Demons were, for the most part, incapable of using technology. They possessed no spaceships, and always had to rely on non-demons to travel between worlds. Of course, with the Buzor on Tarus II, anything is possible. The Kessu still had a 14th Era stealth craft within their grasp, so it's possible there may be other spacecraft we can't detect lurking within Yama's grasp. Either way, don't worry that taking too much time will allow Yama to flee. Now that I know a Demon Emperor exists, there's no place in the universe he'll be able to hide from me. I'll hunt him until the day I die, if that's what it takes."
Sapphire squeezes José's arm. "Kyargh! José, I look forward to fighting the demon right by your side! We will make a most excellent team!"
The Admiral smiles. He stares at Sapphire for a few seconds, then clears his throat. "Excuse me."
After a slightly awkward pause, Sapphire reluctantly releases his arm and pulls away, still maintaining a pleasant expression all the while. "You're so bashful, darling!"
José cracks his neck. "I wouldn't describe myself in such a way, Miss Sapphire. Soren, Megla, I want you two to stay here. After your father rounds up all of his officers, please guide them to the holodeck, then ping me. I'll join up with you later."
Soren cocks her head. "Admiral? Where are you going?"
"I didn't expect to have a thousand soldiers available for taking down Yama," José explains. "It changes my first strike capabilities significantly. I'm going to strategize with Umi, then meet up with you once I've decided on a plan of action."
"I see. That makes sense," Soren replies. "Megla and I will do as you command."
"Mmm. Good, I'll see you all in a couple of hours, then."
José turns to leave the room, only to nearly bump into Kisa, behind him. He pauses, realizing he almost forgot she existed.
Kisa practically becomes invisible once others start talking, the Admiral thinks.
After a momentary pause, he squeezes Kisa's shoulder. "You didn't get a proper tour around the Bloodbearer earlier. Why don't you come with me, and I'll show you my ship?"
Kisa nods quickly, but keeps her head bowed. "Y-yes, Great Precursor, Admiral Rodriguez, sir..."
He and Kisa exit the room, leaving the other four behind. After a few seconds, Sapphire gasps with realization.
"Kyargh! I was too slow!"
"Too slow?" Megla asks, baffled. "What do you mean?"
Sapphire slaps the top of her head, then beats her chest in grief. "That Kisa! She stole my darling from me! She was all alone with him in that cramped, narrow room of ours! I bet she melted into his arms while they performed the Fatüri, and then he took her as his mate! Drat! If only I had been a little bit quicker!"
Soren, Megla, and Lord Drall all simultaneously roll their eyes.
"Yes, sister..." Megla groans. "I'm sure that's exactly what happened."
.......................................
Kisa shyly follows behind José as he departs the Red-Tongue. They pass several other Kraktol along the way, but few of them pay Kisa any mind. All of their staring and adoration goes directly to José, the slayer of Orgon the Betrayer. Given his reputation as one of the mightiest Kraktol, Orgon's reputation, and therefore his loss at José's hands, gives José a proportional boost to his infamy among the Kraktol.
Once Kisa and the Terran exit the ship, they pause at the bottom of the ramp, while José glances around, reading several holographic imprints that appear inside his retinal scanners.
"Umi, show me a list of the Bloodbearer's weapon reserves. Sort them in order of likely lethality against the Buzor we encountered, as well as any monsters or demons we confirmed were living alongside Yama."
"Orders received, Admiral," Umi beeps from overhead. She transmits a series of images to his brain, making them pop up inside his retinal scanners. "Assuming a battalion count of nine hundred and fifty soldiers, these weapons are the most likely to deal extreme damage to the enemy types we observed. Please note that the Bloodbearer only has ten Titan battlesuits in its storage, and three of them are inoperable. You will need to personally assist the Kessu in their repairs, given the intricacies involved in their logistical operations. Alternatively, Crew-members Lele or Soren Mudrose would be capable of completing the repairs unassisted."
José blinks in surprise. "Lele? The kitten?"
"Affirmative. Crew-member Lele has the second highest intelligence rating among all of the Kessu and Kraktol onboard, excluding the newcomers from Lord Drall Brighteye's vessel. Her analytical and repairing capabilities are extraordinary, especially given her biological age."
"Alright. I'll take her down there and explain what she needs to do," José replies.
The Admiral turns to Kisa. "Uh... is there anything you're good at or passionate about? Any skills or hobbies?"
Kisa's scales flush with color. "I, um... I received the best education on Dragua, since I will someday take over as the Thülvik. I suppose I'm good with a lot of things, Great Precursor, Admiral Rodriguez, sir."
"You can just call me 'Admiral,'" José says. "Alright. I'll take you to the medbay and perform an evaluation. Hm. I should probably do that for all of Drall's crew."
While the Admiral ponders over his next move, Umi beeps again. "Admiral Rodriguez. I have received a Priority Green message from the Slipstream. Synthmind 4131 wishes to speak to you. Will you accept?"
José shrugs. "Yeah, sure?"
Having all but forgotten about the Slipstream and other such tangential things after his rebirth, José doesn't give much thought to the synthmind's request. He only finds it odd a random synthmind would attempt to contact him.
A male synthmind voice speaks from Umi's speaker system above. "Greetings, Admiral Rodriguez. I wish to inform you that as of [ONE] hour and [SEVENTEEN] minutes ago, I successfully finished assimilating [THREE HUNDRED] petabytes of scientific data. I scanned every ship in the Bloodbearer's hangar and proceeded to spend the last [SIX] months, [SEVENTEEN] days, [FOURTEEN] hours, and [SEVEN] minutes adapting their configurations to my learning network. As such, I have obtained [SEVEN] advanced transformations, [FORTY-ONE] intermediate transformations, and [ONE HUNDRED, SIXTY-THREE] low-level transformations. With assistance from Synthmind Umi's superior processing matrices, I have successfully upgraded my internal and external components to the [FIFTIETH] era."
José stares blankly ahead for several seconds.
"Upgraded... transformations... wait, are you- is your vessel a self-learning-type exocraft?"
"Affirmative, Admiral Rodriguez," Synthmind 4131 beeps in acknowledgement. "I am capable of adapting other vessel designs to my hull and upgrading my capabilities over time. Were I to study [FIFTIETH] Era technology on my own, I would have required several millennia to properly adapt them to my Biosteel Plating. However, Synthmind Umi was invaluable in providing me design mechanics to study and mold to my neural pathways. I believe you will find that my capabilities as a warship, a science vessel, and a mining exocraft vastly supersede any others currently inside the Bloodbearer's hangar bay."
"By the Divine Emperor..." José mutters, while stroking his chin. "That does, indeed, greatly interest me. Come along, Kisa. Let's go take a look at the Slipstream and see what it can do."
The Malvik nods. "Kyargh! Y-yes, Great Precursor, Admiral Rodriguez, sir!"
"It's just 'Admiral Rodriguez,' Kisa."
"...Yes."
The Admiral chuckles inwardly at Kisa's shy nature, then begins walking toward the Slipstream, a look of excitement on his face.
"An adaptive bioship. I don't recall hearing about more than five made in the whole galaxy. This is a development that could seal Yama's death."
Next Part
.......................................
Author Note:
If you liked what you just read, please consider subbing to my Patreon! I post patron-exclusive writing posts, with typically one post dedicated to TLP each month, and another to Cryopod. You help me survive long enough to not starve to death, and I give you fun things to read. It's a win-win! Check out some of those posts here and here!
Also consider reading The Cryopod to Hell, the primary story in the Cryoverse! Both TLP and TCTH are part of the Cryoverse, so they're deeply interlinked. You don't wanna miss either of them!
Thank you!

The bad calls made all the difference. When teams get bad calls. They lose momentum and morale. And when you lose momentum and morale it is hard to win. Most of football is mental. And when the refs working against you gain a sense of hopelessness because even if you try hard it won't matter. Because when the games on the line the calls will always go in the favor of Brady, we know this, we have seen it happen for years, and multiple games this season. This is not a new thing. I don't think the refs should even be in the discussion of favoring any team over another. Saying it didn't make a difference because it wasn't close enough is the exact thing cheaters would want you to believe. They said the exact same thing about spy gate, where knowing your opponents plays gives a huge advantage. The patriots went from the worst team in the league to winning multiple Super Bowls with spy gates. Because of this Brady gained stronger rosters for gaining the reputation of winning when he cheated in the first place to gain that reputation. He went undefeated a season because every team in the league had to switch up their play books and calls after learning they had been stolen. He lost to in the Super Bowl to a physically superior d line and a hurry up offense that moved to fast for them to call plays to counter them as they could still remember the calls. The reality is that knowing what your opponent is going to do in any competition is an unfair advantage. In a pro poker match the guy who knows the cards everyone holds and the order of every card in the deck is much more likely to win, I am not saying it is guaranteed, its not 100%, but the odds are in his favor. What the patriots did is worse than the equivalent to peaking at someones screen in a video game, or someone cards in the had of a Yu-Gi-Oh game, because it was a calculated and coordinated effort involving many people instead of just one individual cheater. Turns out they've been using deflated footballs. Again this gives an advantage, they are easier to catch, less likely to fumble, and you can run faster with deflated balls. It is easier to catch a deflated football than a highly inflated one, as it won't bounce of your hands as much. You can also do faster snaps while reducing the likelihood you fumble thus speeding up the whole offense. Still people said it didn't matter, as the seahawks should of ran the ball. But they shouldn't have been there in the first place, they used it to blow out the colts, and the colts had a different run defense than the patriots, which means if the Seahawks were in the same position against, they might have ran the ball. Unless Marshawn Lynch walked into the end zone without a holding call, if it came down to inches, it would go in the favor of Brady, because refs. In this case you have to work out the fact the refs will always favor Brady when the game is on the line and even when it isn't. And thus, it is better the throw the ball to ensure he is clearly in the end zone. Had it been the Brady who threw that ball, the DB who picked it off would have been called for a pass interference for bumping the guy out of the way before he even touched to ball. Now they also won a Super Bowl with a roided up wide out, they tested Eric Ried how many times? And how many times did they test Edelmen? Hence the double standard for roid testing when involving a guy playing with Brady. In addition in the Falcons game there was a clear face mask call that should of canceled out the holding call. If it was Brady in the position of Matt Ryan. The face mask would have been called and the holding would not have been called. A player on the Bucs held a linemen in the exact same fashion as the Falcon linemen and didn't get called against the Packers. And then there was the time when Gronk lay hit a guy, clear unnecessary roughness. In the Super Bowl against the Eagles. People said it didn't matter because Brady dropped the ball to a pass that was a clear touchdown. I am sure Eagles fans would have cared about that call more if they had lost. The refs need to make fair calls at all times. And they are clearly not doing this when it comes to Brady. The way they Refs get you is they make you think that it doesn't make a difference when it does. The Refs unfair calls should not tip the odds in favor of any team at any point of the game. Why? Because bad calls can decide possession. And possession decides who controls the game. If you get more possessions in the first half you can tire the opposing defense for the second half. You can also keep a high powered offense from picking up steam. You can also tire an offensive line, by having them drive all the way down, and then making a bad call. Penalties also decide field position. Field position decides who wins. Also the coin toss matters. The Chiefs elected to defer. The team in the half that receives first gains more possessions and more chances to score. If the team that defers is in within one possession, they have better odds at winning. If they are in the lead, they have even greater odds at winning. But if they need a couple of possessions to win, as was the case for the Chiefs because of the Refs. Then your odds are obviously less. The Refs made deciding call for possession and field position. Allowing the Bucs to gain a multi possession lead thus greatly titling the odds in favor of their favorite guy, Brady. I know you guys want to convince yourselves that the calls didn't matter. People will call you losers for seeing it any other way. But admitting that there were bad calls and then saying they didn't matter is a state of cognitive dissonance. Your very beliefs contradict each other. The calls were bad and they did matter. Some people are making an argument comparing the rigging of the NFL to the elections. These are totally different. Elections are a highly legally regulated environment. Any cases go before a fair judge, both sides can present their case, but it is down to the interpretation of the law. A player cannot litigate a play call, he can't take it to court, the most he can do is take a complaint to arbitration which is run by the NFL, even still he can't undo the call in the moment. If he tries to protest it he can get another call, a fine, or even ejected. In addition there was no evidence of election fraud. Yet we have literal video evidence of unfair calls clearly favoring Brady on repeated occasions. What is the motive? Why would the NFL do this? They want to call Brady the goat, they wanted the Super Bowl in Tampa. They want to compare him to Jordan, but they want to leave Bill Russell out of the discussion because that kills the debate. They want to undo the stain of the spy gates wins so people can say "Hey, he can win without spy gate, so it didn't matter." Well the league doesn't revolve around Brady. There are plenty of other fans who would love to see the team their rooting for win, and the player their a fan of win. And it is not fair to rig it in favor of a single team, let alone a single player. Now cheating in the way Brady does it doesn't guarantee wins, but it does increase the odds. I feel as if to make a fair analogy of comparing the rigging of the NFL to unproven claims of election fraud. The refs should release their tax returns to see if they are taking any bribes or placing any sports bets, similar to how a president might release his tax returns. I don't want to make this politcal I just want to remove the parody argument of comparing Brady's cheating and illegitimate wins, to legitimate presidential wins that were upheld by the courts, congress, our electoral college, and votes of the American people. If someone bribes a judge or jury or officer that is a crime. If it was found that a person had a large stake in a company being sued he wouldn't make a fair jury, thus a ref shouldn't have a stake for a certain team or player to win. And they must prove this by publicly release their tax returns. And if they falsify their returns they should be charged with tax fraud. Every ref in the NFL should release all their tax returns publicly. And the returns should go back to the beginning of Brady's career. This way we can prove once and for all that the refs were not rigging games in favor of Brady. And the jokes about the refs working for Brady will just be funny jokes. And we can take our loss in peace, or we can storm the NFL HQ demanding them to give the Chiefs the Super Bowl win.
​
TLDR: The refs calls titled the odds in favor of the Bucs, they should release their tax returns dating back to when Brady joined the league to prove they do not have financial conflicts of interests.

Smart Beta: An Approach to Leveraged, Market Neutral Long-Short Strategies
Background: I have been reading this sub for a while and impressed with some of the experience here, so I wanted to share a (probably way too long) project i am working on in the hopes of getting some helpful feedback. I am a current MBA student at a top 10 program. I have no industry experience within finance, aside from an account with an investment manager and a few years of lurking on WSB. Over the past year, I have gotten more interested in automated trading strategies and have been researching and ideating different approaches. The strategy I am outlining below seems to be promising, though I am not sure if the real world results will line up with the expected return. Any feedback is hugely appreciated, I am trying to master some basic strategies before moving on to more complex approaches. I welcome people poking holes in this - I am considering funding an account with my savings and see if the first quarter returns track with my predictions.
Disclaimer: I have not gotten to the programming/implementation phase yet where this would be input into a quant program, this is just an outline of what the strategy would look like. I am interested in the quant side of things as a way to automate this process, and run numerous different tests and iterations of assets and scenarios in order to increase its accuracy.

1. Overview

In the MBA program I am taking, a number of market strategies are outlined in our classes - well known academic approaches including CAPM, Fama-French, Sharpe Ratios, Efficient Frontier, and Applied Linear Regression. These concepts are all compelling, and I have been thinking about ways in which to combine them all into a rules-based approach which reduces risk while outperforming the market benchmark. One promising way to do this, in my opinion, is through a “smart beta” approach which would look to achieve better risk-adjusted returns to the market-cap weighted strategies of passive investing. Plenty of research has already been done on this topic relating to factor weighting and semi-active investing, including Lo (Can Hedge Fund Strategies Be Replicated?) and Asness (Buffett’s Alpha).
Exhibit 1 - Smart Beta Illustration
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https://preview.redd.it/sxws0mvlah661.jpg?width=1280&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=f2d9bfa4f98dd7c883b50f10169a85276e9992fe
I wanted to test these theories, to see if they could be applied to a “total market” portfolio with exposure to major sectors, indices, and factors which drive the market, but are more carefully selected than a buy-and-hold the S&P approach that an average retail investor might take. In fact, Smart Beta approaches have been claimed to be more successful when applied to a broader set of assets and asset classes (AI-CIO). In order to do this, I have run through the following steps and come up with what seems to be, on paper, a way to accomplish this. It includes elements of Portfolio Optimization/Efficient Frontier, CAPM and Fama-French, Linear Regression Predictions, and careful use of Leverage. Below, I lay out my steps and initial results.
​
https://preview.redd.it/5datrhrmah661.jpg?width=1280&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=db7ab41acdf9ab87eeaf07079d0bbca8e0d344c9

1. Portfolio Selection

Since I want to test whether these academic theories provide value in the broadest sense, I attempted to create a highly diversified portfolio, reflective of large portions of the market, which can still outperform the benchmark through careful selection and risk management. To do so, I chose only ETFs which have one of the following elements: 1) represent a broad market sector 2) have outperformed the market recently 3) are Factor-based on the traditional high-performing factors (which are known to be: small cap, momentum, value, quality).
After reviewing historical performance, and removing those selections which would not have significant weight in the efficient frontier portfolio, I selected the following list of ETFs: HYG (High yield corporate bond); QUAL (Quality factor); MTUM (Momentum factor); DGRO (Dividend growth); FXI (China large cap); ACWF (MSCI multifactor); ARKK (ARK innovation); QYLD (Nasdaq covered call ETF); XT (Exponential technologies); IYH (US healthcare); SOXX (Semiconductor); SKYY (Cloud computing); MNA (Merger arbitrage); BTC (Bitcoin); XLF (Financial Services).
Next, I pulled historical price data from Yahoo. I chose the timeframe of monthly returns from 2016-current. This is because certain ETFs only go back that far, and I figured this was enough data points (55) through diverse enough market conditions (bull market, trade war, Covid, etc.) to be valid. Then, I calculated the monthly return for each month for each ticker, and created a grid for each ticker with the key information I am seeking: Average Monthly Return, Average Annualized Return, Annualized Volatility, and the Sharpe Ratio.
Exhibit 2 - Monthly and Annual Returns, Volatility, and Sharpe Ratio
​
https://preview.redd.it/1sl58kdoah661.jpg?width=1280&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=80e04e5c6479871fc878f8d83b5837081d937098
I also calculated the same data points for what we’ll use as the Benchmark (IVV = S&P500 Index), which came out to: Average Yearly Return: 15%, Average Monthly Volatility: 4.5%, Yearly Volatility: 15.5% and Sharpe Ratio: 0.97.

1. Optimal Portfolio Calculation

As we know, buying and holding any portfolio at an indiscriminate, or market-cap, weighting is not necessarily the key to achieving optimal returns. So, next I attempted to construct a portfolio with the proper weighting with the goal of maximizing returns and decreasing volatility (i.e. achieving the highest Sharpe Ratio possible).
For this step, I created a grid of the average Expected Excess Return (annual return minus the Risk Free Rate (1 year Treasury)) for each ticker, and the average annual volatility. I also created a blank chart with a weighting percentage for each ticker, which I left blank for now. Next, I created the formula for the total portfolio expected return:
(Ticker 1 exp return \ ticker 1 weight) + (Ticker 2 exp return * ticker 2 weight) … + (Ticker t return * ticker t weight)*
And the total portfolio Volatility:
SQRT (Ticker 1 volatility^2 \ Ticker 1 weight ^2) + …. + (Ticker t volatility^2 * Ticker t weight^2)*
And finally the Sharpe Ratio:
Portfolio Exp Return / Portfolio Volatility.
Now, the weights are blank but the formulas are ready to go. I then use the Excel data analysis add-in SOLVER to run through every possible combination of weights in order to achieve the maximum potential value in the Sharpe Ratio cell.
Exhibit 3 - Optimal Portfolio Solver
​
https://preview.redd.it/q2g78kgqah661.jpg?width=1280&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=74feed56101450ec2c835702ab5fef815acdba0b
I was surprised and excited to see an output with an extremely high Sharpe ratio - 3.77 compared to the Benchmark 0.96. (I’ll come back to this later, as the other way I calculated the Sharpe Ratio later on is much lower, though still higher than the benchmark.)

1. Leverage / MVE Portfolio

So, now we have the optimal weights, but can we do better? One way to potentially increase returns is through the use of leverage. So we can include the use of leverage (standard 2x) in our portfolio by doubling the weights (e.g. 21.2% weight instead of 10.6 on HYG, for example), or, alternatively, using a Weight on MVE formula based on the investor’s level of risk aversion.
I am also looking into short selling risk free rate equivalents (SHV, NEAR, BIL) to further increase leverage.
Output of the expected MVE / leveraged portfolio are: Expected yearly return ; Expected yearly
volatility, Sharpe Ratio
The addition of the MVE portfolio with leverage increased returns over the Benchmark by 88%.
Ultimately, the increased leverage increases the volatility significantly, which is why the MVE portfolio has a much lower (1.34) Sharpe ratio compared to the Optimal Portfolio calculated by Solver (3.77).

1. Factor Analysis - CAPM and Fama-French 4 Factor

I ran a CAPM and Fama French analysis to determine the Alpha, Beta, and factor-weighting of the portfolio. The analysis runs a regression on the following historical performance factors: Size (Small minus big), Value (High book to market minus low), and Momentum (Up minus Down). The CAPM Beta was 0.81, and the Alpha was 0.004, consistent with a low Beta, market neutral approach. In the Fama French model, we got a high weighting on Momentum Factors, and minor positive weighting on Value and Size. The Beta was even lower in the Fama French, further justifying our approach.
Exhibit 4 - Factor weighting
​
https://preview.redd.it/xbifnarsah661.jpg?width=1280&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=46413d6cd16ff68f553719e1ce3bef58261a6ec1

1. Regression analysis - Colinearity

In order to try to supercharge our returns - I aim to build a predictive regression model to help determine optimal bet sizing and direction. To do this, we need to find the proper coefficients from which to build this model. I took the following steps to do this. First, create a correlation matrix of the our portfolio against the components individually.
Exhibit 5 - Correlation matrix
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https://preview.redd.it/j2tmvq4uah661.jpg?width=1280&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5e26c87ea8fe81a300ed0ecbbf2948da9b5396d4
We aim to remove all the highest correlated assets, which are plentiful. To test this further, we’ll also run a full regression across the portfolio and its components. The output is not helpful, with an R-squared of 1, indicating it is likely not of value. We can also compute the Variance Inflation Factor (VIF) of each asset, removing those with a value over 5. This leaves us with three non-correlated assets - FXI, BTC and MNA. The regression on these assets are consistent with our expectations, though not large enough to indicate a sure relationship. The R square is low, with a value of .49. But the P-Values are consistently low as well, and the Mean VIF has been reduced to 1.15, from 13.3.
Exhibit 6 - Regression output - FXI, BTC, MNA
​
https://preview.redd.it/4gd7yd6vah661.jpg?width=1280&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0e391145e02fe02d67b21be1c826940494328b5c
This left me with what I thought would be an OK starting point of coefficients from which to create the predictive regression model.

1. Long - Short Portfolio Construction

So how can we do better?
By using linear regression to predict estimates of next months return, and then go long positive predictions and short negative predictions. You want the Mean Square Error of the predictions to be low, but ultimately you just care more about whether it was directionally correct, not necessarily by how much. This is another way to increase the level of returns.
Divide data into training and testing sets
Regress expected monthly returns on your non-correlated returns over different time horizons. For this test, I chose timeframes that I felt could be leading short term indicators, from 1-3 months. Use the output coefficients to test the regression on the testing data set. For each month, use the coefficients to calculate the Predicted Return, the Long/Short signal, the Long/Short % return, and the Prediction Error.
Of the 55 months, it correctly predicted the direction 42 of 55 months, including predictions to go short in Feb and March 2020, and flip to long by May.
The addition of the Long/Short prediction increased the portfolios returns of the MVE portfolio further by an additional 72%.
Exhibit 7 - Comparative returns - SP500, MVE Portfolio, Long/Short MVE Portfolio
​
https://preview.redd.it/1uzdlyawah661.jpg?width=1280&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a0a2f79f89572716fb8626bca61c433755393fbb
In order to risk manage and maintain the optimal weight - i will rerun the optimal weighting every month or every quarter.
So, this is where I am at. And frankly, it seems overly optimistic. Where am I going wrong, what am I missing?
Feedback appreciated.

Book 1 of The HEL Jumper
Book 2 of The HEL Jumper
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“This is new,” Veera mused, padding around her husband as he clothed himself in a dress uniform for the first time in many months. She could tell he hated it from the moment he pulled on the well creased pants, but he uttered not a single complaint. Instead, Veera did what she could to adjust things here and there. It was easy enough to guess that much of the symbology on the uniform was meant to denote his rank of First Lieutenant, and she was able to properly read his last name where it sat above his heart. She hoped her small touches here and there were welcome. “I don’t dislike it though. You look very important, my dear.”
“Well I’m glad someone likes it,” Russell replied, leaning over for a kiss before placing the navy cap on his head to round out the look.
“After seeing it so many times on Io I was wondering if I’d ever get to see it on you. Perhaps we can air it out and work the material to make it more comfortable?” Veera suggested.
‘Oh my dear Veera, the Admiral might agree with you but military garb is meant to be anything but comfortable. See how straight it makes him stand?’ Io observed, dressed similarly to Russell though without rank insignia. They were back aboard the Event Horizon in their cabin, a place for a private night alone once the two of them had gotten over the shock of Veera’s pregnancy. Veera had been sorrowful upon seeing her rose had wilted, as all cut flowers eventually do, but a quick trip to hydroponics alleviated that sadness. In a move that had surprised both Winters and Io, Veera promptly spilled the beans about her cubs to Anita as they watered her orchids. The young Indian woman had not known what to say when Veera had insisted they were Russell’s, but as time went on he understood why she’d decided to broach the subject at all. Far from judgment, Anita had offered them congratulations and well wishes when they parted. She had also offered her condolences regarding the Lancer, which the Jumper accepted quietly.
“Let’s just head to the shuttle bay. It’s almost time,” Winters suggested, surveying himself one final time in the mirror to ensure he was presentable. He wasn’t sure he recognized the man staring back at him. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing either. Veera took his hand.
“Today we can deliver them some good news,” she pointed out. He nodded and furrowed his brow.
“I know, but they’re still gone.”
‘I will be at the shuttle bay. Take your time,’ Io said, leaving them alone for a moment. Veera leaned against Russell and sighed deeply, not knowing what she could say to him. No one had been able to comfort her with words when her mother had passed either, nor when her father failed to return from the hunt.
“Thank you,” he whispered, leading her out into the hallways and on towards the shuttle that would take them to the place his pod had landed a year ago, fleeing the destruction of his ship and the wrath of Seil. When they arrived they were met by Pilot Cromwell, Admiral Kaczynski, and the Beta Jumper team. Russell managed a smile when he saw Rex, Lipper, and the others in uniform.
“At least they get to be as uncomfortable as me today,” he said quietly to Veera before saluting Natori and the others. “Thank you all.”
“We are here to pay our respects to the dead. Rivalry can wait for a day,” Mendes spoke, earning curt nods from the rest of his squad. Given that they all carried rifles, it was clear that Natori intended to live up to his promise of not shortchanging the fallen. Winters returned the greeting, a bare minimum he was willing to observe on that day in memory of Jessica and the others. They all turned towards the entrance of the shuttle bay as Alice and Lachlan arrived together, the former dressed in HEL dress blues without rank and the latter dressed in the tartan kilt of his clan and carrying a set of bagpipes under his arm. Veera looked at Russell for explanation as the Jumper first hugged his sister in greeting and then shook hands with Lachlan.
“It was yer sister and the Admiral’s idea. Hope ya don’t mind, sir.”
“I can’t play an instrument to save my life, Private. Assuming you can, I think the dead will appreciate it. Thank you.”
“If I may interrupt just a moment?” Natori requested, taking a step closer and gesturing to another shuttle next to Cromwell’s. “For the sake of ceremony it was my plan to arrive along with those conducting the triple volley today. I have three Marine volunteers as I assumed you would prefer to pay your respects as family. If you would prefer-”
“No that’s… that’s fine. Thank you, sir,” Russell replied stiffly. Natori dipped his head and gestured that Mendes and his team should get aboard.
“I suspect you are already tired of saying thank you, so you need not,” Kaczynski insisted, his tone hardening. “This is the least they deserve, and I will devote every effort to ensure that we bring word of their fate to their families once today’s ceremony is concluded, even if it means destroying that Forge.”
“We are ready to assist in discovering if there is an alternative,” Russell responded as Alice and Lachlan boarded Cromwell’s shuttle. “And if the Private needs a hill for those pipes, there are more than a few down there.”
“I can never tell when you Winters men are serious or joking,” Natori remarked with a hint of a smile. “I will see you down there, Lieutenant.”
“All aboard then. Let’s not keep the dead waiting,” Cromwell added, patting the ‘hood’ of her shuttle as the engines of the second spun up.
‘Nor the living. Room for one more?’ Io’s voice asked via their various earpieces. Veera looked around curiously.
“There’s always room for you, Io,” she replied sweetly, figuring that should be obvious. The AI’s voice laughed and faded, only to sound again from the hangar entrance. Natori’s mouth dropped open and Veera gasped loud enough to echo throughout the metal room as a sixth HEL Jumper stood at the threshold, clad in a pure white Aegis Mark II suit with emerald trim on the legs, shoulders, and arms. Rex, who was halfway into the second shuttle, began physically pulling his mates back out so they could get a better look. More than a few questions and curses were uttered quietly among the four of them.
“No…” Kaczynski whispered, awestruck, his shoulders slack in disbelief. His tone indicated what he likely meant was ‘yes’.
‘I was so hoping you would say that, Veera. I would hate to miss this. And what’s with that look, Natori? You’re the only one here who shouldn’t be surprised,’ Io insisted from beneath a helmet, kicking off and floating down to land in front of Russell, who was standing still as a stone, his jaw so tight that Veera could make out the tendons that connected his mandible to its various controlling muscles. He’d removed his visor from the side of his head and slipped it into his pocket, looking down slightly at the helmet Io had been using to project her voice. ‘Well? Go ahead before I think better of this,’ she whispered, her tone both tempting and wracked with nerves heavier than a young woman at the altar.
“Oh my god. Oh my god!” Alice murmured from her seat, punching Lachlan in the thigh repeatedly as her brother undid the helmet seals and lifted the armor away, revealing a shock of voluminous blonde hair done up in a bun and bright emerald eyes that shimmered as though she was crying. Across the shuttle bay, Natalya promptly reversed Rex’s actions, pushing her team back into the shuttle and then tugging on Natori by the back of his uniform’s collar. She had only seen a man make the face that Russell Winters was making once in her life.
“Sir, I believe it is time to leave,” she insisted, making it clear it wasn’t a choice. Natori nodded silently, saluted, and departed, leaving the three of them with his ‘blessing’ as the shuttle kicked off the ground and headed for the planet. Veera’s feathers were vibrating about as fast as she could ever remember, but she waited patiently, allowing Russell his moment in what she could only describe as a miracle. Spirits only walked among the living in stories.
‘I’m not… whole yet, but I could not be at your side when they were laid to rest and to do so again seemed unacceptable. I wanted this to be a surprise but-’ Io gasped and her face twitched in pain as Russell brushed her cheek with his hand, rewriting various calculations and sensitivities until his touch felt warm and gentle. She had been watching him and Veera over many evenings, and knew well enough what it should feel like. Even if she hadn’t, the ‘literature’ on the subject was clear. ‘This seemed more important. Sir?’
Russell was gritting his teeth, visibly and audibly, the area between his brows furrowing as he tried to process what he was seeing, what he was feeling. Her voice wasn’t in his ear. She was giving off body heat. Her eyes were tracking his. The woman who cheated death once and then stared it in the face with him a second time was there, in front of him, real. He felt the tension in his calves and hamstrings as he began falling forward slowly. She reached out for him. He held the back of her head and the curve of her waist. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry today,” he whispered as something warm and wet landed on Io’s neck. “What in the world?”
‘It’s alright, sir. I am very much in the same boat!’ Io offered, her voice cracking as her armored limbs gently wrapped around him and began squeezing. ‘It’s really me though, I promise. Please say when?’ she requested.
“Right there is good,” he managed, closing his eyes as tightly as he could and fighting to control himself. “I wasn’t ready for this.”
‘Like I said, that makes two of us!’ Io sobbed, feeling her tear ducts activate. ‘Oh gods it’s working. I’m crying! Veera, if you wouldn’t mind saving us from ourselves here?’
At the AI’s plea, Veera threw herself onto them both. She shouted the obvious as she nuzzled them, earning a surprised but subsequently pleasant laugh from the AI. “Io! You have a body!”
‘Most of one! Hence the armor,’ she elaborated, running her fingers over Veera’s garments and then fur. She hoped she was being just forceful enough to convey longing and affection. ‘Oh Veera, I’m so happy for you. What a stress test of emotions! My legs are shaking.’
“Come on then, let’s get settled,” Russell suggested, slowly backing away until Io was at arm’s length. For long seconds he waited but the right words never came to him. “I’m sorry, Io. You deserve more than me staring at you like an idiot.”
‘Mein barbar…’ Io began, falling silent and eventually bobbing her head repeatedly as she faced the same conundrum. ‘We shall continue to be idiots together, it seems. But first let us say our official farewells and give well wishes to Jess and the crew. I do not know how long this platform will last carrying around an Aegis. It is rather heavy, and a testament to your physique.’
“You know all about my physique, but ok,” he agreed, escorting her and Veera to the shuttle while Alice waved happily at Io’s new form. Lachlan was plenty surprised, but having been in the room during the initial negotiations between Antoth, Natori, Russell, and Io, it was more amazement than anything else. Pilot Cromwell made no complaints, having received specific instructions from the Admiral the moment his own shuttle had departed to escort the pretty blonde ‘Jumper’ to the memorial site, no questions asked. As they travelled, Veera glanced over at Io.
“How did you do it, Io? This is amazing! Oh, are you not feeling well?” the Cauthan wondered, seeing that the AI appeared to be in some amount of mild distress based on her facial expressions.
‘No no, my dear, I simply have not had time to calibrate everything. It’s not an exaggeration to say I rushed this body out the door half finished, but I won’t be throwing up or anything so uncouth. Ah, there we are, that feels much better. Veera, what does it feel like for you when you are in these shuttles? How about you, Alice? Oh, and I apologize, Lachlan. You look quite dashing in a kilt. I did not mean to ignore you.’
“You an’ the Admiral have been quite busy I wager,” the Scotsman remarked evenly. Io smiled.
‘He has been quite supportive in this endeavor, yes. And before you become righteously indignant, Russell, I hope you will understand that I did not wish you to see me like some sort of skeleton or half finished experiment.’
Russell smiled faintly and caught her eye. They looked remarkably real, down to the slightly yellow hue of her sclera, but something inhuman shimmered about them as well, a certain something he could not quite place. He found it appropriate, however. “I understand. How are you powering this thing?”
‘A lot of batteries, for the moment,’ Io replied in a disappointed tone. ‘You have no idea how remarkable the human body is until you try to replicate it; or the Cauthan body for that matter, my dear Veera. I am still weighing the pros and cons of an internal biomass reactor or attempting to reverse engineer the nuclear power core we found in the ruins of the Forge.’
“And just casually catapult human technology forward a thousand years?” Alice asked with a smile. “Lord knows you probably have already depending on what you used to make whatever is under that armor.”
‘That’s kind of you, Alice, but I don’t think I have,’ Io admitted. ‘That was my initial goal, yes, to create an artificial body that maintained itself much as a human’s does, but the Admiral and the realities of physics conspired to dissuade me from that course. Perhaps when this is all done I will simply need maintenance while the rest of you need sleep? Going forward, however, there are many avenues to explore depending on how widely accepted and disseminated the knowledge of my existence is on Earth. I know we joke about him sometimes, but Admiral Kaczynski is a very wise man.’ The AI’s somber and reflective tone was unexpected, but Veera was all smiles.
“You should join us when we pray next. I am sure that Tyrdus will hear you,” she offered happily, taking Io’s hand in hers. “You really made this?”
‘I had a lot of help, Veera, but yes. I was not gifted this body by the gods… not like you were gifted your cubs, which I one day hope to hold alongside you,’ Io said with open longing.
“They are really just trying to make me cry today.” Russell laughed and shook his head, throwing his arm around Io’s shoulders, made unnaturally broad by the armor that concealed her unfinished form. “Io, Veera and I will be there for you if you let us, alright?”
‘You are very good at saying quite a lot with few words,’ the AI countered in a friendly tone, knowing he was referring both to the past and the future. ‘There will be no secrets, I promise. There were just some moments of frustration that I did not want to burden you with, not now as we prepare to say goodbye and not as you two prepare to be parents. But I promise.’
“Hey, if my brother is being a lunk you can always come to me!” Alice offered. Io smiled at her.
‘I believe having a friend that is both human and female would be quite beneficial. There are some things he just doesn’t understand,’ the AI lamented.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Russell demanded, doing his best to sound offended as they began to feel the rumblings of the atmosphere around the shuttle.
Alice laughed. “That’s exactly what we mean.”
-----
“Mmm, it’s like they know,” Russell remarked of the gods, stepping out of the shuttle into a dreary day on Mara. The cool winds from the area around the Forge seemed to have made their way east, reminding him very much of how the area had looked and felt the day he’d informally laid the crew to rest. The only difference was a lack of fog due to the warmer, end of summer temperatures. Taking Io by the hand, he and Veera walked over to where Antoth and Thantis awaited. Upon seeing her face Thantis dropped to his knees, prompting Io to rush over, spluttering in embarrassment.
‘My friend, stop this! Please stand,’ she insisted in fluent Cauthan. ‘I am not one of your gods. I never have been. Were you waiting long for us?’
“You make it seem as though I would not know a miracle when I see one. I’d like to think I’m old and wise enough to understand what’s right in front of me,” Thantis replied as he accepted her help. “It is not every day that spirits choose to walk among us. Will you be gracing our village with your presence?”
‘Maybe one day,’ Io offered, a rosy hue accenting her cheeks. Russell couldn’t help but wonder how long she’d been going at the task of constructing her body, though he suspected the answer. ‘Today is only for a brief while. We’re grateful that you came all this way.’
“More wished to,” Antoth explained. “But you insisted that this not be a grand affair, Winters. So it is just us today.”
“And I appreciate it,” the human affirmed. “Sorry to disappoint the others, it just feels wrong. There will be enough pomp and circumstance from our end anyway.”
“I must admit to some curiosity,” Thantis said, glancing around at the handful of humans who had descended to participate in the honoring of the dead. Natori strode forward to join them.
“That is it, there?” he asked, gesturing to the shrine Winters had constructed a year earlier. A stone or two had been dislodged during that time, coming to rest on the grassy ground below, but the monument remained whole, along with the memorial plaque left by Russell and Io.
“Yes sir, I just need to tidy up a bit,” Russell replied.
“Go on then, we will begin as soon as your task is complete. Antoth, Thantis, allow me to extend my thanks for your presence here. Might I request that the two of you begin the ceremony in your own manner? It is customary in our military funerals to first have a service performed by a priest or other religious figure. I believe it would be appropriate,” Natori explained.
“We can do that,” Antoth confirmed shortly. The priest of Seil wore the ‘uniform’ of his office that day, and Veera sensed that he might even have been thankful for an opportunity to don his old armor again, detailed with all manner of runes and symbols to honor the sun. It did not shine or sparkle like the tokens of his predecessor, but that was very much by design.
It was not long before Russell rejoined them, leading Veera and Io to stand with Alice at a respectful distance from the shrine. As they had the year before, both Antoth and Thantis presented carved tokens invoking the favor of the Cauthan gods. Alice, Natori and the others looked on with great curiosity while Veera, Russell, and Io stood close to one another and remained silent, thinking fondly of the departed. When the Cauthan priests were finished with their dedications, having said what needed to be said the prior year, they joined Veera’s group as Admiral Kaczynski signaled to his crew to proceed. Led by Lance Corporal Mendes, the Jumpers from the Event Horizon and three Marines raised standard M-22 service rifles and fired three volleys whose crack rumbled across the plains to the south. When the sound had died down and the riflemen returned their weapons to a resting position, Io assured Thantis she would explain the tradition at another time. As the service continued, the AI figured that she would very likely need to answer questions not just on the significance of a triple volley salute, but also questions on the nature of bagpipes.
“What a haunting sound,” Thantis could not help but whisper as the opening notes of Amazing Grace carried from where Lachlan stood at the top of the gentle slope that led from Veera’s old farm down to the river’s edge. Alice could not help but agree, the mournful warbling of the pipes and the drawn, stone-like expression on her brother’s face bringing a tear or two to her own eyes. She had only known Jessica Yang in passing, and was unfamiliar with the rest of the Lancer’s crew, but it was plain to see how much they meant to Russell, and so she cried softly for the one man they had all left behind, reaching up to dry her eyes only when the final note held before fading away through the trees across the river. Finally it was Natori’s turn to speak. The Admiral walked calmly to the shrine, brushing a finger gently over the message left by the First Lieutenant and his AI. He smiled modestly as he turned to face those gathered, looking to Io and Russell.
“I am, regretfully, not a man possessing the faculties to make such a dedication of my own; nor would I wish to dilute the words you have already carved and left here. Instead, I shall allow the esteemable Lord Tennyson to speak for me as tribute to our honored dead.” Natori paused to collect his thoughts and clear his throat before reciting the selected portion of the poem from memory.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me—
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Upon his conclusion, Natori closed his eyes in a moment of private prayer before speaking to those assembled. “We resolve today that these souls were not lost in vain, and that the trail they blazed shall become a thoroughfare among the stars. Keep them in your hearts as you return to your important work. Thank you, everyone.”
As the final act of the ceremony, Kaczynski laid a folded HEL flag atop the shrine, settling it so that it propped up the existing plaque for better reading. He nodded silently to the Beta Jumpers and other military personnel, who saluted and proceeded from the site back to their shuttle. The Admiral then approached Winters’ group, speaking first to Antoth and Thantis. “Thank you again for your presence here to honor our dead. I will ensure their families and superior officers know of your kindness. First Lieutenant, I believe it’s time your pod was finally retrieved. I will arrange for a heavy lift shuttle tonight. Given the length of your stay I’m guessing you may have some personal effects still stored?”
“I’ll collect them and return them to the village, sir. Thank you.”
Natori lifted his cap from his head and ran a hand over his hair. Replacing it, he proclaimed their new course of action. “It is now our duty to make it back to Earth with their memory. Please continue your work with Alice among the Cauthan. We will call upon you if your presence is needed at the Forge. And Io?”
‘Yes, Admiral?’ she replied, surprised to have been addressed.
“I don’t disapprove of your presence here today, but I would ask that you please inform me if you intend to requisition or produce arms or armor. There is protocol to be observed, and the cat is now out of the bag, so to speak.”
‘I’m sorry, Natori. I was rather nervous,’ Io explained, earning her a hug from Veera. Thantis seemed both happy and stunned that she would so casually rub herself against divinity. The Admiral nodded.
“I understand, but nervousness is not an excuse to break the rules. Next time, if you please,” he insisted kindly. Russell finally spoke up.
“Io, Veera and I-”
‘I know, sir,’ she cut him off, her voice emotionally laden. ‘I’m not going about this in such a way because I don’t trust you. I’m doing this because you and I have been together from the day I was born, from the day we lost your dear friends. There are some things I would prefer you not see, especially since I am already feeling my power reserves draining,’ she explained, covering her mouth as a wide yawn overtook her. Natori’s expression was more than emotive enough to convey how impressed he was. She smiled at them all. ‘I thought that was a nice touch. I should be back with you and Veera by the time you return to the village, sir. I just need to return my body to my… workshop?’
“Well then take good care of her, Admiral, if you please,” Russell insisted.
“Happily, Lieutenant. I daresay the science teams at the forge would appreciate an AI looking over their shoulder today; the portable reactor core is now in our possession and under study. Given how fruitless our attempts at miniaturizing Ghaelen reactors have been, I think you all understand the potential?”
‘We will discuss sometime soon, in another place,’ Io suggested, giving Alice a brief hug before embracing Veera again and finally Russell. She lingered in his arms the longest, blushing as she accepted the fact that her programming desired far less armor between the two of them. ‘Thank you, for everything.’
“And I’m the one who says a lot with few words?” he laughed, fighting back the desire to simply hold onto her for the rest of the day, to allow the bad memories to wash away and embrace the idea that he was going to be a father. Having an AI around to help out made it easier to contemplate, and he was willing to bet Io wouldn’t have it any other way. “We’ll see you soon then.”
‘Yes sir. Why don’t you and Veera share the good news with the crew now that the official ceremony has concluded? I think they would all be so happy for you two. But farewell for now. Oh, and Antoth?’
“What is it, spirit Io?” the stoic Cauthan asked, one hand on the pommel of his sword.
‘Should I be offended you didn’t also drop to your knees upon seeing me in the flesh?’ she wondered with a coy smile. He bared a few of his teeth on the right side of his mouth.
“Just the opposite. I daresay miracles are what I’ve come to expect from you and Winters by now. I hope we’ll see you for the harvest. Our bounty this year is thanks to the two of you in no small part.”
Io’s smile widened genuinely. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
-----
“Momma, why’s uncle Lachlan wearing a dress? Those are for girls!” Ursol insisted upon seeing the burly Scot’s naked calves for the first time. The Marine in question threw Alice a silent ‘I told you so’ as Sentaura picked up her boy.
“Hmm, that appears to be more of a skirt, my dear, but I must admit to my own curiosity. The rains will come later so I spent the morning making stew. Join us, please. How was the ceremony?” she wondered, stoking the fire beneath her cooking pot.
“It was appropriate and solemn,” Alice described. “We honored them in our way and Antoth and Thantis did so in theirs. And we all got to hear Lachlan play the bagpipes, which was actually very impressive.”
“Well I’m glad ya think so, lassie,” MacGregor replied before explaining to Sentaura and little Ursol that he was dressed in the traditional garb of his clan. Given the nature of Scottish genealogy, the use of the word was quite literal.
“There are whole tribes of humans where the men dress in such a way? How curious. Ursol, that is quite enough,” she insisted, rapping him on the head gently with a wooden spoon. The young lad had still not gotten over the idea of men in dresses. “You had your fun, but now you are being rude.”
“Sorry momma,” Ursol dutifully replied. She pointed at Lachlan instead. “Sorry uncle Lachlan.”
“Ah it’s no big deal, ye certainly aren’t the first one ta get a kick out of me kilt. I find it ta be quite comfortable however.”
Alice giggled as she gratefully accepted a warm bowl of home cooking from Sentaura. She could feel the change of the seasons on the horizon. Perhaps autumn was already upon them. The overcast day and even the funeral service itself added to the feeling that a warm and welcoming meal was exactly what she needed. “Sometimes I wonder if we got it all wrong. Maybe men should all be wearing skirts and dresses while us women wear the pants.”
“I can think of a couple reasons we didn’t go that route and neither are appropriate for the wee laddie here,” Lachlan replied before making a lighthearted suggestion. “But maybe you could write a little paper on it.”
“Oh stop it! That’s not all I do,” Alice insisted, taking a bite of her lunch. “Wow Sentaura that’s- mmm, really good!”
“Thank you very much,” the Cauthan took the compliment in stride before partaking in her own bowl, with Ursol blowing his soup noisily at her side. Alice glanced back over at her companion.
“So Lachlan, I’ve been meaning to ask you actually, when did you get into the bagpipes and kilts and all that stuff? I know it’s your ancestry and all, but it’s not like you’re born with a set of pipes in your hands… right?”
“How d’you know about that?” Lachlan demanded dramatically before dropping the act with a grin. “Ah I know it was a solemn day an’ all, but it feels real nice ta get to playin’ again. As fer me, it was me grandmum, Alice. I’m sure she’s up there with the Lord right now talkin’ his ear off about how great Scotland is. Can’t say I blame her, it’s home.”
“I’ve been once or twice, it was beautiful,” Alice agreed. “So your parents didn’t send you to bagpipe lessons?”
“Ah, it’s a bit hard ta explain,” Lachlan said, pausing his meal to scratch at his chin and wipe his moustache clean. “Me grandmum and grandpa didn’t have much, but they made sure me mum did. Was probably inevitable that she found more cause with Europe than back home once she got out in the world, ya know? Led ta some contentious conversations around the dinner table mind you, but I loved goin’ home ta visit me grandparents, seeing the rollin’ hills and all the bloody sheep. She would always call me her little son o’ Scotland!”
The Marine laughed fondly at the memories, with Alice smiling sweetly as she imagined a much younger Lachlan. “I’d say you more than lived up to her expectations, Lachlan.”
“I do wonder how much of it was an expectation, doesn’t matter now though,” he decided. “She was proud ta be a Scot an’ wanted me ta be proud of it too. Don’t see the harm in it.”
“Quite the contrary,” Alice affirmed, feeling a tad self-conscious as she complimented him. “It was really quite beautiful, the music I mean.”
“Thank ya kindly, Alice,” he replied with sincerity. “I like ta think it helped in some small way.”
Sentaura’s ears perked up as she made the logical connection, gesturing to the pipes that had been placed in one corner of her home. “That strange contraption you brought with you is an instrument? You are a musician, Lachlan?”
“Oh I wouldn’t be goin’ that far!” he replied quickly. “But there are a few classics I guess you could say from my home that I know.”
“Play!” Ursol requested eagerly. His mother seemed to agree.
“I believe I should like to hear this as well, if you are amenable?”
“Well, it’s not like I want to hold out on ye or anything, but for the most part bagpipes only have one setting in terms of volume, and that’s loud. Even in here it would probably spook half the village,” he guessed.
“More like the whole village,” Alice agreed. “Why don’t you play at their festival, Lachlan? There is music, right? Like when my brother brought back his idea of a trophy?”
Sentaura seemed to agree with the plan. “What a splendid idea. If this garb of yours is meant to be festive, then perhaps you might give us a reprise? Though I wonder how cold you might be; the harvest festival heralds the conclusion of the season and the oncoming of winter, after all.”
“Ah that’s mighty kind of you ta worry, mum, but I’ll be just fine with the weather. As long as the Admiral is fine with it I don’t see why not. Somethin’ ta look forward to, eh fluffy lad?”
“Aww, don’t wanna wait!” Ursol insisted, causing his mother to wave her finger at him.
“But wait you shall, my dear. Now please, finish your stew before it’s cold. It’s not every day that we are able to have fresh chesko.”
“Yes, momma,” the young lad agreed, making a scene of enjoying his stew.
-----
Elsewhere in the village, Veera and Russell were also hosting an important guest, having plucked Asha from her temple for lunch.
“So what’s the special occasion?” she wondered, seating herself on their bed as eggs and vegetables were boiled to be consumed with dried meat. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, of course, it’s just that Zolta is usually busy in the afternoons.”
“Yeah, we’ll make it up to him,” Russell acknowledged with a thin smile. He signaled to Veera that she should go ahead. He still wasn’t much of a cook, but he was up to the task of boiling lunch.
“We will,” Veera agreed. “But today I just wanted to talk to you a bit since you’re my best female friend and you’re going through this so-”
Asha had just begun putting two and two together when Veera unceremoniously spilled the beans. “Russell put two cubs in me and we wanted you to be one of the first to know. Xan already knows, sorry, but that’s because Thantis was there at the time we found out,” she explained rapidly, barely taking a breath as Asha’s mouth dropped open and her feathers exploded into motion.
“You- You’re pregnant, Veera?” she gasped, unable to stop herself from rubbing her own prominent belly. “That’s amazing! That’s wonderful! And did you say two?!”
“As if I needed another reason to be concerned,” Russell lamented as the two Cauthan embraced one another. “No offense Asha, but if that’s the size of one late term Cauthan pregnancy, I’m not sure if Veera’s going to be able to move with two of them in there.”
“Oh you are just unbelievable!” Veera rounded on her husband, claws out. “You think I enjoy the idea of our cubs fighting one another just to come into this world?!”
Russell stood straight, abandoning cooking for a moment as he held up a finger in hopes of peace. “Alright, that was a bit more than I expected. Sorry, Veera.”
“And I’m sorry for yelling at you, especially in front of guests,” Veera relented.
“It may not be much, but I don’t think you have to worry about that, Russell,” Asha politely reentered the conversation. “I have been talking with Gentia about, you know, how I’ll know when it’s time? She says that once I get big enough it’ll just start happening. Maybe that will be the same for you, Veera? Oh, well I suppose your cubs would be smaller then. I still, wait a moment, how did you even?!”
‘Prayer and a lot of sex, or perhaps the other way around. Hmm, now that definitely has potential, a punchline in need of a joke mind you. Hello again, everyone, and greetings to you Asha. I see Veera has already informed you of the good news?’ Io asked, waving hello from above Winters’ left bracer.
“It sounds like the good news has also been a bit contentious,” Asha related. Io snapped her fingers and turned to Veera.
‘Yes, yes, I did overhear that. Veera, I have great news for you.’
“Ok, what would that be?” she wondered, seating herself next to Asha on the bed. Even Fenrir got in on the action after poking his snout through the door and finding his family present, though he was made to lay behind Veera so as not to disturb Asha. He sniffed at her belly, but nothing further.
‘Well now that we’re all here, I just wanted to assure you that first of all, twins are a very common occurrence among humans, and we are competent in dealing with babies born prematurely. I know we have discussed the finer points of the human pelvis, human infants, and breast milk before so I will table that discussion. Do not despair, Veera. Your cubs will survive if we have anything to say about it, and you will have enough food to feed all three of you. There will be no competitions here. Sir, I’m pleased to inform you that Skadi has another update.’
Russell looked at her, nodding his head as he spoke. “The hunting program? Great, we’ll go tomorrow morning, Io. Sound good?”
The AI indicated her assent by donning her barbarian furs before slapping on some face paint and diving into a bush, much to Asha’s delight. ‘Perhaps we should invite one of the Betas? Show of good faith?’
“Yeah, or a little hunting accident?” he agreed immediately, laughing loudly before catching Veera’s eye. “That was a joke.”
‘No it wasn’t,’ Io insisted, retrieving a shotgun worthy of Elmer Fudd.
“Yes it was,” he insisted dramatically, a pause between each word.
‘Oh I see, the humans get to joke about offing one another but the moment the AI joins in it’s suddenly verboten!’ Io huffed indignantly. ‘Asha, Veera, let us speak of girl things instead while the garcon prepares us lunch?’
Outnumbered three to one, with two of the women in question being pregnant, Russell could do naught but protest.
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Today i have a confession to make: i'm a little bit of a minmaxer. And honestly, i think that's a pretty desirable trait in a DM. The minmaxer knows the rules, and exploits them to maximum efficiency.
"But wait, what does that have to do with spell use in society?" - someone, probably.
Well, the thing is that humans are absolutely all about minmaxing. There's a rule in the universe that reads "gas expands when hot", and suddenly we have steam engines (or something like that, i'm a political scientist not an engineer). A rule says 1+1 = 2, and suddenly we have calculus, computers and all kinds of digital stuff that runs on math. Sound is energy? Let's convert that shit into electricity, run it through a wire and turn it back into sound on the other side.
Bruh. Science is just minmaxing the laws of nature. Humanity in real life is just a big bunch of munchkins, and it should be no different in your setting.
And that is why minmaxing magic usage is something societies as a whole would do, specially with some notable spells. Today i will go in depth on how and why each of these notable mentions has a huge impact on a fantasy society.
We'll go from lowest level to highest, keeping in mind that the lower level a spell the more common it should be to find someone who has it, so often a level 2-3 spell will have more impact than a level 9 spell.
​
Mending (cantrip).
Repair anything in one minute. Your axe lost its edge? Tore your shirt? Just have someone Mend it.
Someone out there is crying "but wait! Not every village has a wizard!" and while that is true, keep in mind any High Elf knows a cantrip, as can any Variant Human.
A single "mender" could replace a lot of the work a smith, woodworker or seamstress does, freeing their time to only work on making new things rather than repair old ones.
​
Prestidigitation (cantrip).
Clean anything in six seconds. Committed axe murders until the axe got blunt, and now there's blood everywhere? Dog shit on your pillow out of spite? Someone walked all over the living room with muddy boots? Just Prestidigitate it away.
This may look like a small thing, but its actually huge when you apply it to laundry. Before washing machines were a thing housewives had to spend several hours a week washing them manually, and with Prestidigitation you can just hire someone to get it done in a few minutes.
A single "magic cleaner" can attend to several dozen homes, if not hundreds, thus freeing several hours of the time of dozens of women.
Fun fact: there's an interesting theory that says feminism only existed because of laundry machines and similar devices. Women found themselves having more free time, which they used to read and socialize. Educated women with more contacts made for easy organization of political movements, and the fact men were now able to do "the women's work" by pushing a button meant men were less opposed to losing their housewives' labor. Having specialized menders and magic cleaners could cause a comparable revolution in a fantasy setting, and help explain why women have a similar standing to men even in combat occupations such as adventuring.
​
Healing in general (1st-2nd level).
This one is fairly obvious. A commoner has 4 hit points, that means just about any spell is a full heal to the average person. That means most cuts, stab wounds, etc. can be solved by the resident cleric. Even broken bones that would leave you in bed for months can be solved in a matter of seconds as soon as the holy man arrives.
But that's nothing compared to the ability to cure diseases. While the only spell that can cure diseases is Lesser Restoration, which is second level, a paladin can do it much more easily with just a Lay on Hands. This means if one or two people catch a disease it can just be eradicated with a touch.
However doing that comes with a cost. If everyone is instantly expunged of illness, the populace does not build up their immune systems. Regular disease becomes less common, sure, but whenever it is reintroduced (by, say, immigrants or contact with less civilized humanoids) it can spread like wildfire, afflicting people so fast that no amount of healers will have the magic juice to deal with it.
Diseases become rare, plagues become common.
​
Continual Flame (2nd).
Ok, this one is a topic i love and could easily be its own post.
There's an article called "Why the Falling Cost of Light Matters", which goes in detail about how man went from chopping wood for fire, to using animal fat for candles, then other oils, whale oil, kerosene, then finally incandescent light bulbs, and more recently LED lights. Each of these leaps is orders of grandeur more efficient than the previous one, to the point that the cost of light today is about 500,000 times cheaper than it was for for a caveman. And until the early 1900s the only way mankind knew of making light was to set things on fire.
Continual Flame on the other hand allows you to turn 50gp worth of rubies and a 2nd level spell slot into a torch that burns forever. In a society that spends 60 hours of labor to be able to generate 140 minutes of light, this is a huge game changer.
This single spell, which i am 99% sure was just created as an excuse for why the dungeon is lit despite going for centuries without maintenance, allows you to have things like public lighting. Even if you only add a new "torchpost" every other week or month sooner or later you'll be left with a neatly lit city, specially if the city has had thousands of years in which to gather the rubies and light them up.
And because the demand of rubies becomes so important, consider how governments would react. Lighting the streets is a public service, if its strategically relevant to make the city safer at night, would that not warrant some restrictions on ruby sales? Perhaps even banning the use of rubies in jewelry?
Trivia: John D. Rockefeller, the richest man in history, gained his wealth selling kerosene. Kerosene at the time was used to light lamps. Gasoline was invented much later, when Rockefeller tasked a bunch of scientists to come up with a use for some byproducts of the kerosene production. This illustrates how much money is to be had in the lighting industry, and you could even have your own Rockefeller ruby baron in your game. I shall call him... Dohn J. Stonebreaker. Perfect name for a mining entrepreneur.
Whether the ruby trade ends up a monopoly under the direct supervision of the king or a free market, do keep in mind that Continual Flame is by far the most efficient way of creating light.
​
Gentle Repose (2nd).
Cast it on a corpse, and it stays preserved for 10 days.
This has many potential uses, from preserving foodstuffs (hey, some rare meats are expensive enough to warrant it) to keeping the bodies of old rulers preserved. Even if a ruler died of old age and cannot be resurrected, the body could be kept "fresh" out of respect/ceremony. Besides, it keeps the corpse from becoming undead.
​
Skywrite (2nd).
Ok, this one is mostly a gag. While the spell can be used by officials to make official announcements to the populace, such as new laws or important news, i like to just use it for spam. I mean, its a ritual spell that writes a message on the sky; what else would people use it for?
Imagine you show up in a city, and there's half a dozen clouds reading "buy at X, we have what you need", "get your farming supplies over at Joe's store" or "vote Y for the city council".
The possibilities are endless, and there's no way the players can expect it. Just keep in mind that by RAW the spell can only do words, meaning no images. No Patrick, "8===D" is not a word.
​
Zone of Truth (2nd).
This one is too obvious. Put all suspects of a crime into a ZoT, wait a couple minutes to make sure they fail the save, then ask each one if he did it. Sure its not a perfect system, things like the Ring of Mind Shielding still exist, but it's got a better chance of getting the right guy than most medieval justice systems. And probably more than a few contemporary ones. All while taking only a fraction of the time.
More importantly, with all the average crimes being handled instantly, the guards and investigators have more time to properly investigate the more unusual crimes that might actually involve a Thought Shield, Ring of Mind Shielding or a level 17 Mastermind.
There is a human rights argument against messing with people's minds in any way, which is why this may not be practiced in every kingdom. But there are definitely some more lawful societies that would use ZoT on just about every crime.
Why swear to speak the truth and nothing but the truth when you can just stand in a zone of truth?
Another interesting use for ZoT is oaths. When someone is appointed into an office, gets to a high rank in the military or a guild, just put them in a ZoT while they make their oath to stand for the organization's values and yadda yadda. Of course they can be corrupted later on, but at least you make sure they're honest when they are sworn in.
​
Sending (3rd).
Sending is busted in so many ways.
The more "vanilla" use of it is to just communicate over long distances. We all know that information is important, and that sometimes getting information a whole day ahead can lead to a 40% return on a massive two-year investment. Being able to know of invasions, monsters, disasters, etc. without waiting days or weeks for a courier can be vital for the survival of a nation. Another notable example is that one dude who ran super fast for a while to be the first to tell his side of a recent event.
But the real broken thing here is... Sending can Send to any creature, on any plane; the only restriction being "with which you are familiar". In D&D dead people just get sent to one of the afterlife planes, meaning that talking to your dead grandfather would be as simple as Sending to him. Settling inheritance disputes was never easier!
Before moving on to the next point let me ask you something: Is a cleric familiar with his god? Is a warlock familiar with his patron?
​
Speak With Dead (3rd).
Much like Sending, this lets you easily settle disputes. Is the senate/council arguing over a controversial topic? Just ask the beloved hero or ruler from 200 years ago what he thinks on the subject. As long his skeleton still has a jaw (or if he has been kept in Gentle Repose), he can answer.
This can also be used to ask people who killed them, except murderers also know this. Plan on killing someone? Accidentally killed someone? Make sure to inutilize the jaw. Its either that, being so stealthy the victim can't identify you, or being caught.
​
Note on spell availability.
Oh boy. No world-altering 4th level spells for some reason, and suddenly we're playing with the big boys now.
Spells up to 3rd level are what I'd consider "somewhat accessible", and can be arranged for a fee even for regular citizens. For instance the vanilla Priest statblock (MM348) is a 5th level cleric, and the standard vanilla Druid (MM346) a 4th level druid.
Spells of 5th level onward will be considered something only the top 1% is able to afford, or large organizations such as guilds, temples or government.
​
Dream (5th).
I was originally going to put Dream along with Sending and Telepathy as "long range communication", but decided against it due to each of them having unique uses.
And when it comes to Dream, it has the unique ability of allowing you to put your 8 hours of sleep to good use. A tutor could hire someone to cast Dream on him, thus allowing him to teach his student for 8 hours at any distance. This is a way you could even access hermits that live in the middle of nowhere or in secluded monasteries. Very wealthy families or rulers would be willing to pay a good amount of money to make sure their heirs get that extra bit of education.
Its like online classes, but while you sleep!
Another interesting use is for cheating. Know a princess or queen you like? She likes you back? Her dad put 400 trained soldiers between you? No problemo! Just find a 9th level Bard, Warlock or Wizard, but who am i kidding, of course it'll be a bard. And that bard is probably you. Now you have 8 hours to do whatever you want, and no physical evidence will be left.
​
Raise Dead (5th).
Few things matter more in life than death. And the ability to resurrect people has a huge impact on society. The impact is so huge that this topic needs topics of its own.
First, diamond monopoly. Remember what i said about how Continual Flame would lead to controlled ruby sales due to its strategic value? This is the same principle, but a hundred times stronger. Resurrection is a huge strategic resource. It makes assassinations harder, can be used to bring back your officials or highest level soldiers over and over during a war, etc. This means more authoritarian regimes would do everything within their power to control the supply and stock of diamonds. Which in turn means if anyone wants to have someone resurrected, even in times of peace, they'll need to call in a favor, do a quest, grease some hands...
Second, resurrection insurance. People hate risks. That's why insurance is such a huge industry, taking up about 15% of the US GDP. People insure their cars, houses... even their lives. Resurrection just means "life insurance" is taken more literally. This makes even more sense when you consider how expensive resurrection is: nobody can afford it in one go, but if you pay a little every month or year you can save up enough to have it done when the need arises.
This is generally incompatible with the idea of a State-run monopoly over diamonds, but that just means different countries within a setting can take different approaches.
To make things easier, i even used some microeconomics to make a sheet in my personal random generators to calculate the price of such a service. Just head to the "Insurance" tab and fill in the information relative to your setting.
With actual life insurance resurrection can cost as little as 5gp a year for humans or 8sp a year for elves, making resurrection way more affordable than it looks.
Also, do you know why pirates wore a single gold earring? It was so that if your body washes up on the shore whoever finds it can use the money to arrange a proper burial. Sure there's a risk of the finder taking it and walking away, but the pirates did it anyway. With resurrection in play, might as well just wear a diamond earring instead and hope the finder is nice enough to bring you back.
I got so carried away with the whole insurance thing i almost forgot: the possibility of resurrection also changes how murders are committed.
If you want someone dead but resurrection exists, you have to remove the vital organs. Decapitation would be far more common. Sure resurrection is still possible, but it requires higher level spells or Reincarnate, which has... quirks.
As a result it should be very obvious when someone was killed by accident or an overreaction, and when someone was specifically out to kill the victim.
​
Scrying (5th).
This one is somewhat obvious, in that everyone and their mother knows it helps finding people. But who needs finding? Well, that would be those who are hiding.
The main use i see for this spell, by far, is locating escaped criminals. Just collect a sample of hair or blood when arresting someone (or shipping them to hard labor which is way smarter), and if they escape you'll be almost guaranteed to successfully scry on them.
A similar concept to this is seen in the Dragon Age series. If you're a mage the paladins keep a sample of your blood in something called a phylactery, and that can be used to track you down. There's even a quest or two about mages trying to destroy their phylacteries before escaping.
Similarly, if you plan a jailbreak it would be highly beneficial to destroy the blood/hair sample first. As a matter of fact i can even see a thieves guild hiring a low level party to take out the sample while the professional infiltrators get the prisoner out. Keep in mind both events must be done at the same time, otherwise the guards will just collect a new sample or would have already taken it to the wizard.
But guards aren't the only ones with resources. A loan shark could keep blood samples of his debtors, a mobster can keep one of those who owe him favors, etc. And the blood is ceremoniously returned only when the debt is fully paid.
​
Teleportation Circle (5th), Transport Via Plants (6th).
In other words, long range teleportation. This is such a huge thing that it is hard to properly explain how important it is.
Teleportation Circle creates a 10ft. circle, and everyone has one round to get in and appear on the target location. Assuming 30ft. movement that means you can get 192 people through, which is a lot of potential merchants going across any distance. Or 672 people dashing.
Math note: A 30ft radius square around a 10ft. diameter square, minus the 4 original squares. Or [(6*2+2)^2]-4 squares of 5ft. each. Hence 192 people.
Getting hundreds of merchants, workers, soldiers, etc. across any distance is nothing to scoff at. In fact, it could help explain why PHB item prices are so standardized: Arbitrage is so easy and cheap that price differences across multiple markets become negligible. Unless of course countries start setting up tax collectors outside of the permanent teleportation circles in order to charge tariffs.
Transport Via Plants does something very similar but it requires 5ft of movement to go through, which means less people can be teleported. On the other hand it doesn't burn 50gp and can take you to any tree the druid is familiar with, making it nearly impossible for tax collectors to be waiting on the other side. Unfortunately druids tend to be a lot less willing to aid smugglers, so your best bet might be a bard using spells that don't belong to his list.
With these methods of long range teleportation not only does trade get easier, but it also becomes possible to colonize or inhabit far away places. For instance if someone finds a gold mine in the antarctic you could set up a mine and bring food and other supplies via teleportation.
​
Major Image (6th level slot).
Major Image is a 3rd level spell that creates an illusion over a 20ft cube, complete with image, sound, smell and temperature. When cast with a 6th level slot or higher, it lasts indefinitely.
That my friends, is a huge spell. Why get the world's best painter to decorate the ceiling of your cathedral when you can just get an illusion made in six seconds?
The uses for decorating large buildings is already good, but remember: we're not restricted to sight.
Cast this on a room and it'll always be cool and smell nice. Inns would love that, as would anyone who always sleeps or works in the same room. Desert cities have never been so chill.
You can even use an illusion to make the front of your shop seem flashier, while hollering on loop to bring customers in.
The only limit to this spell is your imagination, though I'm pretty sure it was originally made just to hide secret passages.
Trivia: the ki-rin (VGM163) can cast Major Image as a 6th level spell, at will. It's probably meant to give them fabulous lairs yet all it takes is someone doing the holy horsey a big favor, and it could enchant the whole city in a few hours. Shiniest city on the planet, always at a nice temperature and with a fragrance of lilac, gooseberries or whatever you want.
​
Simulacrum (7th).
Spend 12 hours and 1500gp worth of ruby dust, and get a clone of yourself. Notably, each caster can only have one simulacrum, regardless of who the person he cloned is.
How this changes the world? By allowing the rich and powerful to be in two places at once. Kings now have a perfect impersonator who thinks just like them. A wealthy banker can run two branches of his company. Etc.
This makes life much easier, but also competes with Continual Flame over resources.
It also gives "go fuck yourself" a whole new meaning, making the sentence a valid Suggestion.
​
Clone (8th).
If there's one spell i despise, its Clone.
Wizard-only preemptive resurrection. Touch spell, costs 1.000gp worth of diamonds each time, takes 120 days to come into effect, and creates a copy of the creature that the soul occupies if the original dies. Oh, and the copy can be made younger.
Why is it so despicable? Because it makes people effectively immortal. Accidents and assassinations just get you sent to the clone, and old age can be forever delayed because you keep going back to younger versions of yourself. Being a touch spell means the wizard can cast it on anyone he wants.
In other words: high level wizards, and only wizards, get to make anyone immortal.
That means wizards will inevitably rule any world in which this spell exists.
Think about it. Rulers want to live forever. Wizards can make you live forever. Wizards want other stuff, which you must give them if you want to continue being Cloned. Rulers who refuse this deal eventually die, rulers who accept stick around forever. Natural selection makes it so that eventually the only rulers left are those who sold their soul to wizards. Figuratively, i hope.
The fact that there are only a handful of wizards out there who are high enough level to cast the spell means its easier for them organize and/or form a cartel or union (cartels/unions are easier to maintain the fewer suppliers are involved).
This leads to a dystopian scenario where mages rule, kings are authoritarian pawns and nobody else has a say in anything. Honestly it would make for a fun campaign in and of itself, but unless that's specifically what you're going for it'll just derail everything else.
Oh, and Clone also means any and all liches are absolute idiots. Liches are people who turned themselves into undead abominations in order to gain eternal life at the cost of having to feed on souls. They're all able to cast 9th level wizard spells, so why not just cast an 8th level one and keep undeath away? Saves you the trouble of going after souls, and you keep the ability to enjoy food or a day in the sun.
​
Demiplane (8th).
Your own 30ft. room of nothingness. Perfect place for storage and a DM's nightmare given how once players have access to it they'll just start looting furniture and such. Oh the horror.
But alas, infinite storage is not the reason this is a broken spell. No sir.
Remember: you can access someone else's demiplane. That means a caster in city 1 can put things into a demiplane, and a caster in city 2 can pull them out of any surface.
But wait, there's more! There's nothing anywhere saying you can't have two doors to the same demiplane open at once. Now you're effectively opening a portal between two places, which stays open for a whole hour.
But wait, there's even more! Anyone from any plane can open a door to your neat little demiplane. Now we can get multiple casters from multiple planes connecting all of those places, for one hour. Sure this is a very expensive thing to do since you're having to coordinate multiple high level individuals in different planes, but the payoff is just as high. We're talking about potential integration between the most varied markets imaginable, few things in the multiverse are more valuable or profitable. Its a do-it-yourself Sigil.
One little plot hook i like about demiplanes is abandoned/inactive ones. Old wizard/warlock died, and nobody knows how to access his demiplanes. Because he's at least level 15 you just know there's some good stuff in there, but nobody can get to it. Now the players have to find a journal, diary, stored memory or any other way of knowing enough about the demiplane to access it.
​
True Polymorph (9th).
True Polymorph. The spell that can turn any race into any other race, or object. And vice-versa. You can go full fairy godmother and turn mice into horses. For a spell that can change anything about one's body it would not be an unusual ruling to say it can change one's sex. At the very least it can turn a man into a chair, and the chair into a woman (or vice-versa of course).
But honestly, that's just the tip of the True Polymorph iceberg. Just read this more carefully:
> You transform the creature into a different creature, the creature into a nonmagical object, or the object into a creature
This means you can turn a rock or twig into a human. A fully functional human with, as far as the rules go, a soul. You can create life.
But wait, there's more! Nothing there says you have to turn the target into a known creature on an existing creature. The narcissist bard wants to create a whole race of people who look like him? True Polymorph. A player wants to play a weird ass homebrew race and you have no idea how it would fit into the setting? True Polymorph. Wizard needs a way to quickly populate a kingdom and doesn't want to wait decades for the subjects to grow up? True Polymorph. Warlock must provide his patron 100 souls in order to free his own? True Polymorph. The sorcerer wants to do something cool? Fuck that guy, sorcerers don't get any of the fun high level spells; True Poly is available to literally every arcane caster but the sorcerer.
Note: what good is Twinned Spell if all the high level twinnable spells have been specifically made unavailable to sorcerers?
Do keep in mind however that this brings a whole new discussion on human rights. Does a table have rights? Does it have rights after being turned into a living thing? If it had an owner, is it now a slave? Your country will need so many new laws, just to deal with this one spell.
People often say that high level wizards are deities for all intents and purposes. This is the utmost proof of that. Clerics don't get to create life out of thin air, wizards do. The cleric worships a deity, the wizard is the deity.
​
Conclusion.
Intelligent creatures not only can game the system, but it is entirely in character for them to do so. I'll even argue that if humanoids don't use magic to improve their lives when it's available, you're pushing the suspension of disbelief.
With this post i hope to have helped you make more complex and realistic societies, as well as provide a few interesting and unusual plot hooks
Lastly, as much as i hate comment begging i must admit i am eager to see what spells other players think can completely change the world. Because at the end of the day we all know that extra d6 damage is not what causes empires to rise and fall, its the utility spells that make the best stories.
​
Edit: Added spell level to all spells, and would like to thank u/kaul_field for helping with finishing touches and being overall a great mod.