The great hall of the summit was still in the morning quiet, strangely so, as the representatives of the allied empires assembled once again. The banners of the Darsha Empire, the Darwen Kingdom, the Elf Lands, and the Beastmen Kingdoms fluttered proudly against the walls, their colors brilliant in the sunlight that poured through the high-stained glass windows. This gathering was not a ceremonial one; it was a platform for innovation, where the next stage of civilization would be unveiled.
Sharath advanced, his very presence commanding notice without effort. In his hand was a thin, rectangular piece of equipment with a numpad shining softly beneath magical script. "Today," he started, "we go past the walkie-talkie. What you see before you is the first one-piece communication device that can communicate across all our networks. One unit, one interface, and real-time communication across borders, races, and empires."
The other rulers leaned forward, eyes widening with interest. Marcel, ever the pragmatist, adjusted his goggles. "So, one device replaces the myriad of walkie-talkies?" he asked.
Sharath nodded, setting the device gently on a highly polished pedestal. "Not only replaces, but simplifies. And to promote adoption, we suggest constructing a network of antenna stations in all our territories. Devices will be on sale at next to nothing, a small talk-time recharge fee to support infrastructure. In effect, one coin might keep people talking for a week. Do this across millions of citizens, and the potential for trade, diplomacy, and coordination becomes vast.
A murmur swept through the gathering. Serphnia's elves cocked their heads, studying the runic symbols that steadied the signal. "Brilliant," she whispered. "This might standardize communication without needing magical ability from all.
Sharath waved towards a platform at the opposite end of the hall, where a familiar aircraft was parked. "And for those of you who were skeptical about the value of flight in your empire's growth," he announced, his voice commanding respect, "we have upgrades. Every Skycarriage now comes equipped with parachutes, providing protection against mechanical or magical failure. Watch."
Marcel approached, eyeing the equipment closely. "I never particularly liked safety," he confessed, "but I understand the importance here. Safeguarding pilots—and cargo—is a guarantee of trust in the technology. Good work."
Sharath started the engines. The rotors whirred quietly as the vehicle rose smoothly. A demo came next: the Skycarriage flew overhead, making sharp turns, then opened its parachute with perfect accuracy, touching down softly on the nearby platform. The audience clapped, admiring the engineering and the utilitarian good sense.
Then Sharath took them to his workshop, a gigantic room filled with half-built devices. Weapons adorned with complex runes, precursors to spell-running calculators, communicators, and other wonders of engineering littered all the tables. "These are prototypes," Sharath told him. "Each one is an experiment, a progression toward a system that will change the everyday life, war, and commerce. And at the heart of this endeavor," he indicated a large, rune-inscribed device, "is my latest project—the magical computer.
The leaders walked around the machine, awed by the sophisticated blend of mechanical gears and magical parts. "Progress?" Marcel inquired.
"Twenty percent in three years," Sharath answered, a touch of pride in his tone. "Even with aid and precision spells, the intricacy is enormous. I need your assistance to finish it."
The appeal was not for direct engagement but for temporary administration of the empire systems as Sharath's engineers worked on programming and assembly. The emissaries went back home to temporarily restructure their domains so that governance would not collapse. With their blessings and promises, Sharath and his team recommenced hardcore work.
Months went by. Laboratory days were a mixture of focus, testing, and trial-and-error. Magical runes connected with engine pistons, driving the central computational matrix. Crystals pulsed with power, converting enchanted code into processes usable by the mechanical interface. Each test that worked earned a quiet cheer, each failure a shower of sparks or small explosions. Sharath hardly saw the world outside, working solely on uniting magic and machine.
In a year's time, the rate of completion reached ninety percent. The last ten percent—the programming—was the biggest hurdle. Sharath and his comrades were not professional programmers; the ideas were new and the magic language of computation unheard of. But they persisted. Magic typewriters transmuted encoded runes into runnable streams, and each good instruction made the computer's crystal matrix glow with soft celebratory light.
The summit drew near again, and by this point, Marcel, Serphnia, and Ronan had all returned to their empires. They did not make it this year, relying on Sharath's vision and advancement. Distant rumors of testing and partial completion seeped back to their courts. The allied leaders' unavailability did not take away from the moment of the accomplishment—it only added to the expectation.
Then, the final large assembly of parts came together. The mechanical motor roared to life, in harmony with the flowing magical power from runes placed throughout the device. Sharath powered up the interface. A faint glow spread over the central panel, and a small cursor flashed on a magically lit screen.
He drew breath, letting his eyes widen. "The magical computer lives for the first time."
Sharath's fingers flew over the runic keys. Deliberately, carefully, he set up the first interface: TTS (text-to-speech) integration. The computer's voice, distant but audible, read out the first simple command. "HELLO WORLD."
The lab was quiet, except for the quiet mechanical whir and the soft light of power-up runes. Then, softly, the computer read: "HELLO WORLD."
Sharath relaxed back, a brief look of pleasure spreading over his face. "It works. Believe it, it works."
For the first time in decades of imperialism, of summits and ententes, of flying contraptions, treasure trees, and universal communicators, he permitted himself to dream of possibilities: computation which would be able to incorporate magic and mechanism, machines that could handle reams of information, civic infrastructure automated, and even long-distance communication with the simplest of devices.
And still, he remained pragmatic. He initiated routine tests, coding tiny programs, tuning runes, and tracking energy waves. Every test confirmed the synergy between engine and enchantment, and with each success, reinforced the conviction that civilization's next great leap wasn't an illusion—it was about to happen.
All these continued developing on their own outside, and all of Sharath's systems were implemented: communication equipment, aerial vehicles, treasure trees, and Unity Notes. Their civilizations moved ahead with parallel development, reaching such peaks of refinement and harmony never witnessed before in Eldora.
When the first programs were running smoothly, Sharath stood on his laboratory balcony and surveyed the city. The capital shone with light off streets polished bright, Skycarriages filled the air, and the faraway forests of treasure trees gently swayed with the breeze. His children played amidst the innovations, unaware witnesses to the dawn of a new age of technology.
Tomorrow," he spoke to himself, "we start not only to construct. but to think, compute, exchange, and grow. A new era commences."
He glanced once more at the computer, now executing the first set of programs, before turning to the runes glowing on the terminal to whisper, "HELLO, WORLD. And to what follows.
In the quiet of the laboratory, encircled by engines, magic, and the whirr of invention, the first genuine magical computer—a marriage of thought, runes, and machinery—was alive. The era began. Civilization, magic, and invention now possessed a tool to forge ahead faster than ever before. And for Sharath, the empire which he had rebuilt, the alliances which he had forged, and the inventions which he had created were not ends in themselves anymore—they were tools for the future.
The age of magic, machinery, and computation had arrived.