Excerpts From Nonexistent Books

The wail of a banshee has long been suspected to have magical properties, ever since one such wail was successfully captured in a leaded glass jar using a system of parabolic reflectors. The experimenter in question, Collegium member Collegistress Birie, believed that her sister had risen from the grave as a banshee after her murder and sought to use the wail to decode a sort of “bansheetongue” that could be used to communicate with them. His Majesty the Emperor-King, in turn, funded the research in hopes of weaponizing the wail either to dispel banshees in the Lower Verge or to dispel enemy troops in the Viscountate.

In either case, the answer proved to be “no.” Reflected banshee wails played back at a banshee set up a sort of feedback loop that results in a supercharged banshee capable of turning small animals to stone or destroying walls for 12 hours or so, while reflected sounds directed at humans seem to have little effect other than a mild startling without the terrifying visage of a banshee to accompany them.

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The basis for the legendary tooth fairies are the wild unseelie fae of the Upper Verge, who are indeed known to collect small items left underneath pillows in exchange for trinkets. This is, of course, not limited to teeth, and the unseelie are known to take what they wish in other circumstances. As such, the reason for their behavior is uncertain.

It ultimately represents yet another front in one of the Great Fairy War in the Collegium. On the one hand are those Collegisters who claim that unseelie fae are impossible to study or predict, being themselves irrational beings made of irrational matter, if anything. On the other side are Colligisters who hold that unseelie fae are much like seelie fae, in that they can be explained by natural processes and physical laws—said processes and laws simply have not yet been discovered.

Proponents of the former are fond of mentioning the attempted dissection of a tooth fairy by Sir Arthur Holdberry, in which the tooth fairy seemed to spontaneously revive, rampaged throughout the room stealing at least one gold coin and one tooth from a living socket, before apparently dying again and exploding, possibly as a result of being hit by birdshot fired by the same Sir Arthur Holdberry.

Conversely, those who hold that unseelie fae can be studied are quick to note how difficult it can be to ascertain if a human is truly dead, much less a fae, and that most small creatures will panic if revived in an enclosed space—to say nothing of a propensity found in many a small creature to explode if hit with a full charge of shot at point blank range.

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Much has been written to justify or explain the seemingly infinite and yet finite powers attributed to dragons. Their prowess in battle, able to spew a variety of materials from their mouths and with bodies heavily armored by metallic scales, have made them legendary opponents. Yet there is no known tale in which the dragon is not ultimately proved mortal and laid low by swords, spears, or bows.

One would think it a simple matter to consult a dragon on the matter, as their fondness for talk, flattery, and riddles are equally legendary. Yet for all those who have spoken to one of the great wyrms and lived to set down the tale, none have come away with answers. It seems that dragons have little in the way of written or oral traditions, with adults meeting only to breed and whelps ejected from the nest as soon as they are old enough. This seems to ensure that the dragons themselves do not know the source or nature of their powers and nature, a troubling theory indeed.

The theory most in vogue at the moment is that elaborated by the Collegium of the Ancient Library. This theory, as elaborated upon by Collegister Maduin, holds that dragons have a the same dual nature as man, with both a physical and a metaphysical body. Unlike man, however, the Collegister argues that the metaphysical form of the dragon is not a soul but rather raw magic, and that dissipation, rather than afterlife, is their fate upon death. This, he claims, explains both their extraordinary power and clear mortality.

Until such time as the Collegium is equipped to dissect a deceased dragon without repeating the Incident of ’52, this may be the last word on the matter.

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The Collegium, officially the Imperial and Royal College of Scholars, is a learned society set up in the former royal capital city of Graveburgh. Established by King Ethelred IV, the Collegium remained in Graveburgh even after Ethelred’s great-great-great grandson succeeded to the Imperial throne through his maternal line, becoming Emperor Joseph I in addition to King Joseph III.

While the Emperor-King now sits in his senior realm’s capital at Aldwych, the Colledium remains the preeminent scholarly society in the realm, outshining the Imperial and Royal Aldwych Society at every turn. Collegisters, members of the Collegium, are nominated by peer and hold their titles for life unless revoked, or for the life of their nominator and their descendents unto seven generations for immortal Collegisters. While membership is overwhelmingly human, the Collegium does differ from the Society in that nonhumans and women are allowed to participate and hold the rank of Collegister.

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“We don’t go to the old TBC anymore,” said Zhang with a shudder.

“Why not? I love me some Tennessee Broiled Chicken,” said Yan.

“First of all, it’s closed, so any chicken they have on the premises would be super deadly to eat.”

“Uh-huh, right, sure. And second?”

“Turns out there is a certain number of chickens you can broil on the premises before you get really haunted by dead chickens, and that TBC crossed it a while ago.”

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“Approach.” The voice was beyond cold, like two blocks of glacier sliding over one another.

“Elder sentient ice,” the supplicant said. “I would like something it is in your power to know.”

“I know all that has touched this ice in my millennia of existence,” was the reply. “Ask.”

“What was the CO2 level 27 million years ago?” the supplicant asked. “Was it over or under 300 parts per million?”

“Uhh,” the elder sentient ice said. “I thought you were going to ask a question about a wooly mammoth or an ancient frozen sword or something.”

“Nope,” the supplicant said. “It’s all climate questions. Do you know the answer, or do I have to get the core borer?”

“Oh, I know it! I totally know it. The answer might just, you know, take a minute or two.”

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“Should I be worried that wizard hat is wearing another, smaller, wizard hat?” said Su.

“No, no,” said Mungus. “It’s just Hatta.”

“You say that as if it explains everything!” Su cried. “I don’t know who Hatta is!”

“Hatta is a sentient wizard hat, of course,” Mungus said.

“And how did it get to be sentient? That sort of thing doesn’t just happen!”

“Retsopmi the Mage created Hatta by accident, okay?” Mungus sighed. “Is it really that important?”

“Well, if ‘Retsopmi the Mage’ created this ‘Hatta’ by ‘accident,’ why didn’t they ust uncreate it then?”

“Because it’s a magical sentient wizard hat and it’s quite capable of defending itself!” Mungus cried, exasperated “But it’s proven itself a very useful ally.”

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“Look, it’s the only way to heat anything up while we’re stuck here,” Nex said.

“It is a microwave that has been used for who knows how long reheating who knows what in a convenience store,” Xak replied. “No.”

“I’m sure they cleaned it. They’d have to if a Denebian used it. Come on.”

“You use it then,” Xak snapped. “You heat your food up in that plague microwave and watch your body’s chemical bonds dissolve in the throes of Dinobulan flesh-eating bacteria, while I’m happily starving to death.”

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Uncle Harvey had kept a log of incidents in his disco during its glory days, good and bad, and in preparation for the reopening Chris had been reading them aloud to Sam while the latter was working. Sam was slightly annoyed, seeing as Chris preferred to work in monklike silence, but wasn’t about to argue the point.

“Looks like in 1981 we have a bunch of notes for something Harvey called the Disco Triceratops Incident,” Chris said. “First in April, then again in June, with three in July.”

“Disco triceratops? Is that like a disco duck?” Sam asked.

“I dunno, but a “Pat” is repeatedly mentioned, so I guess they were the disco triceratops, or something?” said Chris. “Pat showed back up again. Wanted bygones to be bygones. Reminded Pat of disco trike. Pat apologized again. Remained firm. Felt sort of like letting Pat back in, but remembered last time. Never again.”

“Whoa,” said Sam. “Mysterious noodle incident stuff. What do you think it was?”

“Costume thing, maybe?” Chris replied. “Maybe a rhinestone triceratops jacket?”

“Now THAT would be a find,” Sam laughed. “Let’s hope Harvey confiscated it.”

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“We will take you to The-really-surprisingly-safe-castle,” said Lord Mungus.

“Wait, what’s wrong with the castle?” Maiden Su’Gnoma said.

“Nothing wrong with it,” Mungus replied. “It’s really quite safe.”

“It’s just…” Su said. “The name The-really-surprisingly-safe-castle seems a little specific, like they’re trying to hide the fact that it’s not very safe.”

“Su, it is a very safe castle. Built on bedrock by Retsopmi the Mage and hand enchanted stone by stone with spells of protection and shielding.”

“Then why call it The-really-surprisingly-safe-castle?” Su said. “Why not ‘Fort Impregnible’ or something?”

“Because Retsopmi the Mage was really bad at naming things!” Mungus snapped. “He named his ultimate magic wand the Very-powerful-spell-stick! Now are we going to the castle or are we going to wait for another wave of abductor harpies?”

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