Salt and Power

­­ There weren't always dragons in the valley...

"...But then, there was not always a valley! You see, the lands on which we live have shifted and changed for thousands of years, molding the landscape that we now call home." Mr. Porter had given this speech many, many times before. Now in his 50s, he had taught at The Centrus Academy for the last 30 years, and at the start of each one, it was his duty to ensure that the young pupils understood how the world came to be as it is, and the geographic importance of the land that they were in. Extending his hand to a map of the world, he pointed towards the largest landmass that occupied the centre. "We are here, on the island that we call Centrus. At the centre of the world, we enjoy the benefits of a temperate climate, predictable seasons, and convenient routes to each of the other continents by sea." He gazed out at the crowd and was rewarded for his efforts thus far by an ocean of blank, bored stares. All of the pupils had no doubt heard this kind of lesson before, but it was of critical importance that they understood what set them aside from the other regions of the world, and how lucky they were to find themselves here.

"However. As you may be aware, the main advantage of living here is not simply geographical convenience, as the other lands enjoy various other boons from their locations. The main advantage that we have comes in the form of The Residual Salts." The mood shifted in the class. This was new. Mr. Porter knew that the class would all be aware of Residual Salts as a concept, but many of them would not appreciate how lucky they were to be born where they were. "It is thanks to the Salts that we have prospered as much as we have in our technological advances. They grant us the power to think, to learn, and to understand concepts that would otherwise be far beyond the normal limits of human capacity. And it is with my help, and the help of the other scholars at The Centrus Academy, that you can reach your full potential!"

The pupils muttered amongst themselves, as the excitement of their first day at school resurfaced. Now that he had finished his welcoming speech, Mr. Porter began to distribute pieces of paper to each of the students, detailing what they would come to learn during their first term at the school. "Each of you must attend the classes outlined on your timetable at the times that they are listed, as without each of them, you will not be able to gain the all-rounded education that you deserve. Speaking of which, you have 10 minutes until your first class with Ms. Alaria, where you will take your first steps into understanding Residual Salts, and what you will be able to do with the gifts that they grant to you. In the meantime, you may go and get acquainted with the various buildings that you will be attending your classes in this year. Dismissed!" This first year was, arguably, the most important year for pupils at the school. If they did not absorb the foundational knowledge at this age, then they ran the risk of progressing through their teenage years without being adequately equipped to harness the power of the Salts.

As the last new pupil left the room, Mr. Porter, or Cideous when the kids weren't around, slid the bolt across the door. He lingered there for a moment, considering the speech that he had just delivered. It was true that there were not always dragons in the Bleak Valleys. The more uncomfortable truth was that he, nor any other scholar, knew what they were doing there. They did not appear to be aggressive unless provoked but did not have a reputation as being the most docile of creatures. He had heard rumours that the people of the Eastern Isles had been experimenting with their Salts to affect the lifespans of creatures other than humans, but it had been unsuccessful, as far as he was aware. Returning to his desk, he slumped into his chair. Opening the top left-hand drawer of his large wooden desk, he retrieved a stack of correspondence letters from his colleagues and friends from other schools on the continent, along with a few personal letters from friends in other lands.

Looking through the stack for the first time, he was taken aback to find that he had received a letter bearing the seal of the Eastern Isles. He tore the wax stamp off, and feverishly ripped the envelope apart. Could this be the revolation that he was waiting for?

"Dear Cideous. I hope this letter finds you in good health. I am writing to inform you that my trip to the Eastern Isles has indeed been restorative - I find myself returned to good health, and I find myself wondering if this may be, in part, due to the influence of Salts that this land houses. Despite my new-found hypothesis that the influence of said Salt is not exclusive to those born here, I am afraid to say that I am no further forward in my research into the origins of the dragons. There are rumours that suggest that animal experimentation has been successful, but I am yet to find any solid evidence to suggest that this is the case. I have several leads that I will follow up on before my return next month, and I will report anything new that I uncover. Yours, Duncan."

Cideous placed the letter back onto his desk and rubbed his eyes. He was glad to hear that Duncan was doing well, but that did not detract from the fact that he had gotten no further in terms of the purpose of his mission. Cideous let all the air leave his lungs in a deep sigh, drained from the effort of this morning's speech and the lack of relief from Duncan’s news. Staring blankly at the desk, an intrusive thought shocked him from his daze - Duncan mentioned that he believed that he had been healed through the influence of the Salts from the Eastern Isles! In skimming the letter, he had not appreciated this news to carry the weight that he now believed it did. According to what he had come to know of the Salts, they seemed to only affect those that had experienced years of exposure to them. Here, on Centrus, children did not attain test scores that outranked their peers on the other continents until at least their teenage years, if at all, and yet Duncan had only been on the Eastern Isles for a month and claimed to be reaping the benefits of exposure!

Despite the possible gravity of this information, Cideous knew that he didn't have time to dwell on it for long. A day of classes stretched ahead of him, and they rarely allowed him time for what he believed to be idle pondering on impossible theories. He would wait until his duties were done before he allowed himself to digest the news.

The day passed like so many others seem to – sluggishly and unremarkably. When the bell rang to signal that school was done for the day, Cideous exited his classroom in step with the students. He couldn’t wait to get out of this place at the end of every day, and this feeling was only magnified on the first day of a new term. Students in the wrong classes, looking to sit with their friends, excitedly talking during their lessons... He knew that this would settle, as it always did, but it was exhausting, nonetheless. Leaving the school grounds, he always walked the same path; left, then across the road. Right, then straight ahead to The Anchor’s Rest. Many of the other teachers preferred the more modern drinking spots, but this was the kind of place where a man would not be disturbed. There was no music and no laughter in this small, smoky den, which made it the perfect place for someone to be alone with their thoughts and a drink. He took his seat beyond the bar, at a table that he had become synonymous with, and began to recount the information that he had read in Duncan’s letter.

In the past, before people travelled widely across the world, it was widely accepted that people in different lands had different skills based on their cultural upbringing. However, when studied closely, it became apparent that these changes were not simply based on what different societies viewed as important to their lifestyles. The levels of intelligence observed in the people that dwelled on Centrus could not be explained by probability alone, as every member of the public tended to outperform their counterparts from different continents in tests of cognitive capacity. Similarly, those who spent their lives on Axolus were vastly stronger and more athletic than those from other continents and proved this fact time and time again in competitive sporting events. In more modern times, it was possible to move to a different continent without a great deal of difficulty, provided that one was willing to use the skills from their homeland to help the native people improve their society. However, in moving to another continent, it was believed that it was impossible to gain any effects that the locals enjoyed through exposure to their Salts. It appeared that the critical period for effects to take place was adolescence, and so adults could not relocate to Centrus from Axolus and gain both heightened intelligence and athletic ability. It just wasn’t possible. And yet...

Nothing was becoming any clearer to him. Cideous concluded that, despite his doubts, it may indeed be possible to gain the boons of other lands. But how? Why? How could he find out more?

These questions would not be resolved through brooding and drinking alone. He decided that the best course of action was to, as he so often did, seek out the help of his colleagues. He would start with Alaria – she was the strongest person that he knew, and smarter than most too – had she always been this way?