The stagnant air hung heavy with familiar, comforting scents. Of musty pages and fading ink, of choking dust and just a hint of mildew. Of epic stories slowly growing older and historical events sliding inexorably further and further back in time. It was the scent of knowledge, all compressed upon pages and betwixt an uncountable number of covers.
And it was no small wonder that such a scent was so predominant: the insides of the little shack nestled away in the Coerthas Highlands had more the look of a compressed library than a home. Every wall had a shelf firmly pressed up against it, each one crammed to bursting with tomes on a seemingly random number of topics. The tables and nightstands were little more than squatter shelves that just happened to - sometimes - have something on top of them other than more books. Even the bed was merely a mattress set upon a series of cubbies that housed those texts and treatises that were most likely to be torn from their resting places during the many sleepless nights. Truly, the only place devoid of some manner of penned knowledge was the hearth, which seemed almost an afterthought in the design of the place - little more than the slightest of concessions to combat the biting chill of Halone's icy breath.
The fire within its depths crackled and burned fiercely, casting wavering shadows every which way as it brightened and dimmed chaotically - as a flame is wont to do. Such lighting was horrendously inconsistent, and it was that inconsistency that led to the acquisition of the only other source of light in this diminutive warehouse of knowledge: a single lantern that sat neatly atop the desk. It too was alight, casting its much more orderly glow upon the many texts that lay open near it.
The titles of these texts ranged from simplistic things such as "The Ceruleum Secret" to scientific journals that boasted such verbosely named articles as "The Cyclic Stream of Aether - A Treatise on the Ebb and Flow of Life Energy" by the Sharlayan professor Ennan Amuus. Regardless of title or content, violet orbs flitted over each and every one, soaking up the penned knowledge like the driest sponge. Those eyes absorbed details on the source of aether, where it came from and where it goes, and even of the beasts of the Void that seek to claim it for themselves from the gap through which it passes. All to slake that unquenchable thirst for knowledge that drove him so.
Knowledge, information, awareness; it was here that true power lay, after all. One could have the strongest sword or the mightiest army, but without knowledge on how to best utilize it, they were nothing but scrap metal or a rabble of miscreants. The best laid plans could easily crumble to pieces once knowledge of its details were disseminated to those that would seek to defy it. And a knowledge of the ebbs and flows of the market could mean the difference between riches and poverty. Those who could control the flow of information could themselves weave a tapestry at Nymeia's wheel... and, more importantly, could profit off it.
Such was the goals of one Gogonji Gegenji, the eldest son of the Doman smith Zozonji Gegenji. Whilst his father was merely content to peddle in outdated wares like maces and armor, Gogonji sought a much higher calling for himself. He sought to peddle knowledge in the truest sense - to teach and enlighten, from something as simple as wielding a sword to battlefield tactics to understanding the inner complexities of economic trends. So stalwart was he in his resolve that he defied his family and their tradition, that he left both his nation of Doma and Othard itself to fulfill his desires. And it was those selfsame desires that had ultimately led him here, to Eorzea.
But why such a focus on aether? Had someone actually managed to hunt down the dour-faced Lalafell and present such a question to him, he would have likely frowned deeply, slowly shaken his head, and delivered a dismissive sigh. For the answer to such a question, to him at least, was perhaps the most obvious thing on Hydaelyn: aether was the stuff of life, and from life came experience, and from experience knowledge. Some of this accumulated knowledge was given form and penned on scrolls and tomes and texts, of course, but there was so much more that was left unwritten or even deliberately expunged from the annuls of history. Not to mention how obnoxious things like time and bias and the fallacies of the mind could warp and distort it all into an incomprehensible mash of nonsense that was of little use to anyone.
However, in his searching and his travels and his adventures, Gogonji had come across a better method. A means to bequeath knowledge and experience that lay untarnished by the years or the fallible minds of others. Knowledge both modern and ancient both could be at one's behest, passed along with no distortion or deviation through something as primitive and corruptible as language. Knowledge that could be passed along purely and utterly untainted.
And an example of that superior method currently sat dead center on his desk, on a small wooden dais like an altar. All the papers and pages that were otherwise scattered about gave it and its stand an honorable berth, as it was due. For within it lay the culmination of the life of someone long past, their knowledge engraved deep within its aetheric facets. The information pure despite the twisted and corrupted form that its former owner now wore.
A Soul Crystal.
Specifically, the Soul Crystal of an ancient Scholar of the ancient Vylbrandian city-state of Nym. A nation whose mastery of knowledge and tactics had kept them on even footing against the might of White and Black magicks, both supposed gifts of the Elementals and gods. And a nation that had faded away, its remnants naught but decrepit ruins and the twisted forms of its former inhabitants that dwelt within them - the Tonberries.
And yet, through this shard of crystallized aether, through this stone that looked little more than a gem with the symbol of a pair of spectacles, that knowledge had been recovered. With a formula and a flourish, Gogonji could call upon techniques long forgotten and bring them to bear against unwitting allies and enemies alike. He could even summon one of Nym's miniature magical minions to heed his beck and call - the Fairy, who in and of herself was an informational marvel. An aetheric construct that was static, consistent, and inheritable; unlike the variable nature of the lowly Carbuncle - itself a derivative of ancient Allagan summoning practices.
Still, while the Fairy was indeed an interesting concept in her own right, she only existed in conjunction to - and perhaps even because of - the infinitely more interesting Soul Crystal. Here was a method to transfer knowledge and information unconfined by such limiting things as bias and language. Yet even this method had its flaws: the knowledge was slow in coming, and the stones themselves seemed almost annoyingly cognizant enough to choose whom it might bequeath their knowledge to.
This would not do if he was to use Soul Crystals as his medium to sell information and knowledge. They needed to transfer their knowledge much faster, and to whom he chose rather than the dubious decisions of a crystallized soul. Like ceruleum was refined aether, so too would these Soul Crystals need to be refined. Corrected. Improved.
And it was for this reason that Gogonji scoured tome upon tome, text upon text. The Lalafell was eager for any tidbit or inkling of similar practice, of those who may have trodden this path before. And, if he was to be the first, to gird himself with as much knowledge on related subjects as possible. For he refused to fail, and was resolute in his purpose.
He would show his father.
... No, not just show him...
He would surpass him, completely and utterly. He would make his father bow before him and praise him, praise his ever-calculating and forward-thinking mind. Then - and only then - would Gogonji, with the backing of his connections and his family, forcibly move all of Hydaelyn into a new age. Not an age of barbaric squabbles and animistic feuds over territory, but an age of learning and knowledge. An age of enlightenment, an age of information.
And he would profit off of every bit of it, for he was the eldest son of Lalafellan merchants, after all.
That ever-dour expression lightened somewhat as the faintest of grins tugged at one corner of the Lalafell's lips. It vanished quickly enough, however, with a quelling harrumph and a clearing of his throat. Settling back into his seat, Gogonji turned his attentions back to his tomes and the - albeit biased and incomplete - information that lay within. The latest one was an in-depth look on both aspected and unaspected crystals, and how one might transition to the other under certain stimuli.
Meanwhile, the Soul Crystal was content to glittered dimly in the lamplight, taunting him with the secrets that still lay locked deep inside.
~