Reedrascal's Astrolabe

The court astronomer of Vulane - Reedrascal the Calculating - was a distracted old ferret with a long white beard and goggles that his young student thought made his eyes look ridiculous. 

Vulane itself was not ideal for an astronomer, as the ever-present, rain-filled clouds that filled the sky had themselves been... altered somehow. Reedrascal was going to get to the bottom of that: perhaps with tonight’s astronomical event.

“I-I do not precisely understand, Professor,” a little voice said behind the ferret as he went from one huge sphere to the other in his huge astrolabe. “Can you explain it again?”

Reedrascal gulped and closed his notepad. He ran his claws over the sphere representing the next closest celestial object as it wheeled past him - gears grinding and wheels creaking. The little vixen watching him was barely six... and dangerous.

“Little Orphea,” the old scholar said kindly to the young and tiny vixen, using the utmost effort to hide his impatience. “Have you kept track of the transits tonight?”

Orphea walked as quickly as she could, her little legs constantly falling behind her professor as he skittered about his gigantic device. He was in his old robes again and Orphea had to be careful not to get too close to him, lest she smelled the maelstrom of wine, coffee, and opium from his old robes with her delicate snoot.

“Yes Professor,” she said, showing the ferret her own notebook. Orphea was in a light blue cotton overcoat - the same hue as her big, inquisitive eyes - that draped over her little tail.

Reedrascal clicked a few extra lenses over his goggles and squinted at her little notes. Instead of numbers, he instead saw spirals and swirls, drawn in complex and intricate patterns.

“What is this meant to convey, princess?”

Orphea giggled. “I’m sorry Professor, I am learning Draconian and so decided to practice it.”

“Well please refrain from doing that again,” Reedrascal said a little too harshly as another celestial body represented in his astrolabe whirled past. The ferret cleared his throat and softened his voice. “I need your notes to be accurate.”

“They are accurate, Professor!” The young vixen with the sparkling blue eyes protested.

“-Accurate and readable,” the ferret continued calmly, his dark brown eyes magnified greatly. “Do you know what tonight is?”

Professor Reedrascal leaned in, his white beard nearly grazing the peculiar charts and notes in Orphea's tiny hand-paws. The astrolabe - its gears clicking and whirring softly with decades-old equations and calculations - continued to hum with the mysterious cosmic dance of Vulane's enchanted skies.

“Yes, Professor: the Winter Equinox.”

“And what should we expect to see in this, the Southern Hemisphere, during the Winter Equinox?”

“The Winter Equinox in the Southern Hemisphere heralds the unveiling of the Ethereal Tapestry of Frost, Professor,” Orphea replied, her tone carefully measured. “Along with the declination of Likundus and the ascension of Barond.”

“Exactly,” Reedrascal said. “But of course... they will be late.”

The little vixen tilted her head. “Because of the...” she began. “Why, Professor?” She said, interrupting herself.

That was what Reed was waiting for, but the old professor twisted his look of concern into one of patience.

“Because the skies over Vulane themselves have been altered somehow... By whom I do not know, but do you recall that old paladin who roams the streets at night, screaming?”

There was Orphea’s little giggle again. “The fat, old badger in decrepit armor, yelling about how the ‘sky is full of lies’? Yes I know him: He’s very silly.”

“Yes, that one. That is why my measurements have been off. I think he is correct.”

“Perhaps, professor, it is your measurements that are wrong - and not the sky?”

It was infuriating, humiliating, and even emasculating - being chided by a pup.

“That is what we are trying to determine tonight, Orphea,” he explained. “If my astrolabe needs to be recalibrated or the internal logic board - Reynard forbid - needs to be reengineered, then so be it.”

Professor Reedrascal led Orphea to the upper platform of the observatory, where the enchanted mechanics of the gigantic astrolabe dominated the space. The two dodged the whirling spheres as they made their way to a doorway leading out to a platform. The night air was crisp as Reedrascal adjusted his goggles and looked up at what he estimated was the enchanted sky.

"Behold, Orphea," he gestured to the stars that seemed to swirl in a dance of their own. "The celestial ballet of Vulane, but tonight we're waiting for the lead dancers to arrive. Take a look down that plank, there."

He pointed to the long metal tube at the end of a long metal plank that extended over the streets of Vulane. It was covered with a tarp to protect it from the ever-pouring rain, but to her young eyes it was very interesting to behold.

“What is that, professor?” Orphea squeaked. “Some kind of spyglass?”

“Yes, you could say that. I call it a ‘telescope.’”

Orphea’s little giggle again. “Rather pedestrian, don’t you think professor?”

“Nevermind that, Orphea, nevermind that. Make your way out there - be sure to use the handrails. We are going to be taking quite a few notes tonight.”

As Orphea cautiously made her way to the platform, Reedrascal followed her, adjusting his robes and occasionally muttering to himself about the intricacies of celestial measurements. The night air was filled with a sense of anticipation, and the rain-soaked streets of Vulane glistened beneath the occasional flicker of magical street lamps.

Orphea approached the telescope, her eyes widening with curiosity. The tarp rustled as she pulled it back, revealing the gleaming instrument beneath. It was a beautifully crafted telescope with polished brass and intricate engravings, reflecting the dedication Reedrascal had for his craft.

“Professor, it's beautiful!” she exclaimed as she examined the patterns on the telescope.

“Wait until you peer through the glass itself!” Reed said with pride. 

Orphea sat in the chair and put one of her bright, blue eyes up to its aperture and gasped. “I can see through Vulane’s cloud cover, professor!”

Orphea paused, just as she did when she almost let slip the reason for the late ascensions. “How... did you do this, professor?”

Another piece of evidence, Reedrascal thought to himself: Orphea was hiding something, and in the astronomer’s estimation, the only information she could have would be from her father: Szal, the patriarch of Vulane.

“The glass has been enchanted, princess,” Reedrascal said with a fangy grin. “To counteract the enchantments of the clouds.”

Another pause. “Oh,” Orphea said simply, obviously trying to hide her astonishment as she put her eye to the glass again. “Who... enchanted this for you, professor?”

Reedrascal hesitated for a moment, sensing the significance of Orphea's question. He stroked his long white beard, the gears of his sharp mind turning as he contemplated how much he should reveal. The rain continued to patter softly against the observatory's windows, creating a soothing ambiance.

"Well, my dear," Reedrascal began, choosing his words carefully, "this telescope was a gift from an old friend. A friend who understands the importance of unveiling the secrets hidden within Vulane's enchantments."

Orphea, still peering through the enchanted telescope, raised an eyebrow. "An old friend? Who might that be, Professor?"

Reedrascal chuckled, a twinkle in his eyes hidden behind the magnifying lenses. "A friend with a keen interest in the mysteries of the sky, just like you and me. Someone who believes that the truth should not be obscured by clouds or any other enchantments."

The little vixen looked at Reedrascal, her inquisitive eyes narrowing slightly. "You're being secretive, Professor. Is this friend of yours the reason you suspect the skies have been altered?"

“Nevermind that now, princess. The night is long, and the Winter Equinox will reveal secrets to us that are only revealed once a year... perhaps longer. Your homework now is to measure the transit of the various constellations and compare them to the astrolabe’s estimations.”

“Y-yes, professor,” Orphea squeaked.

“I shall bring you a hot drink and warm blankets - the night is long, and we musn’t get you sick.”

Reedrascal returned with a tray bearing a steaming mug of spiced tea and a thick blanket. He handed them to Orphea, his eyes showing a mix of paternal concern and academic excitement.

"Stay warm, my dear," he said, adjusting his goggles. "Tonight's observations might lead us to the heart of the mysteries that shroud our skies. It's a rare opportunity to witness the ethereal Tapestry of Frost unfold. I shall return in an hour or two - do well and make sure your notes are readable!"

Less than an hour later, the “Star Crossed Tavern” was lively with the mocking voices of patrons.

“Go on, you old badger!”

“Keep your conspiracies to yourself!”

“You may wield a sword, but your grasp on reality is more slippery than a fish in a wizard's cauldron!”

Peals of laughter as the front door swung open, revealing the very star-crossed astronomer that the pub was named after.

“Speak of the fish!”

More peals of laughter as the band of travelling bards started up their ribald songs. Reedrascal himself clapped the badger on the shoulder.

“We have some things to talk about,” the astronomer yelled into the old knight’s ear.