Entry 4
The transcribed personal written records of Johnathan Altman in relation to his debaucherous research in Relative Magics and their implications. The staff of the Saunders College of Magics of Boston, Massachusetts, procured them as evidence in the lead-up to his trial.
May 30th 1896
Summers is a badgering blowhard who I would have very much liked to throw out of the train car. On multiple occasions, he dragged me into one of his “Academic Jousts,” which would ultimately turn into a shouting match on whether or not Hungarian moon mages draw their fence from the waxing or waning moon. The buffoon would site Manthas Rhys, who is a reductionist at best.
Casey is not only a self-important braggart, but he is also a sneak. I had fallen asleep for no twenty minutes, and I woke to see him shuffling through my notes and annotating them, which I would later learn that he did in his own ludicrous methodology of organization. He had the gall to call it a free consultation. Unfortunately, the notes, when organized in a reasonable manner, are useful. He has an aptitude for connecting obscure practices to each other. He also has a certain expertise when it comes to common magics, and we both agreed that most academics ignore the importance of their study. However, I would have traded both of those good factors of his to get rid of his insistence to sing whenever the moment struck him, which was often. The worst part was that his distracting melody lodged itself in my head. I suspect that he might have incanted me.
Now that I am finally home, I can breathe in the fresh spring air. I was so happy to see my real home. I think that no matter how long I am away from this place, it will always be my home. My father was ecstatic to see me. He requested that I read the new entries in his library. When I told him I was writing a book, he requested that a feast be thrown in my honor. My sister, on the other hand, held that melancholic mood with her. She, of course, did her best to appear happy, but I could tell. I approached her to tell her of her trouble and asked if she would want to learn what little weavarty I could teach her.
We were walking in the garden, and the beautiful weather contrasted our dower conversation. She told me that the closer the date of her wedding approached, the darker the world seemed. She feels as though we were born the same people, and while I have been able to pursue a life of my own interests, she is shackled to the wishes of the men in her life. I gave her half-hearted excuses for why this was. She gave me one look in my eyes, and I gave up. I offered her what I could. She seems a bit happier. Her magics are weaker than my own, but that is only because she has used so little. Over time, it will become stronger.
I have received a letter from Colsoar. His dig is going well. His new stone speech has been of great use, especially when translating the stone’s statement. Unfortunately, the stones seem to have been overly focused on the flora of their environment and often failed to pay any attention to the human events occurring around them. Except for one river rock that had kept track of an entire bloodline of fishermen in that area because of a grudge it had held since it was soiled in the 10th century. The story was quite comedic and informative. Colsoar hopes to find similarly disgruntled gravel.
I plan to write to Ms. Fair after this entry. I have not had the time or energy to do so before now, and I hope I have not upset her by failing to write to her sooner. Even though this is a holiday for me, I have filled my schedule with chores of all kinds.
My work with nails is slow. It is difficult in the first place to even find time to do the work. At this time, I have found a promising French spell, but at this moment, I can only get the arrow to curve about forty-five degrees toward the target. My hope is that I will be able to get near one hundred eighty degrees. I have to work on my pronouncement of the spell and the position of my left pinky finger. The illustration for the spell blurred the hands and wasn’t clear in the description. I think that I might be able to be used on smaller projectiles. I have an idea of possible use for construction as guided nails or screws.
Dr. Altman
Notes of Mr. Mathew Maroe on the evidence above. 1911 August 17th
We see Johnathan’s development of his signature guided screws. We know that the workspace here is on Mason Altman’s property, but this was not the point and time of that use for the locale.