After creating this first pair of Vanishing Cabinets, Sylas found himself unsatisfied.
Though functional, the wooden cabinets were fragile. A single crack or scratch could destabilize their enchantments, causing the teleportation spellwork to fail entirely.
Such a weakness was unacceptable.
If he intended to build a vast, reliable transport network spanning continents, then durability was paramount. The structure had to endure war, weather, and centuries of use.
Thus, Sylas began contemplating replacements for wood.
Metal, naturally, came to mind.
But ordinary metals, though sturdy, lacked magical conductivity, the essential property needed to anchor the teleportation arrays. Just as the original Vanishing Cabinets had required wood from enchanted trees, any substitute would need to channel magic with equal or greater efficiency.
Among all known materials, Mithril stood supreme.
And conveniently, Sylas had it in abundance.
As a shareholder in the Moria Mines, he possessed a one-tenth stake in their production. Every year, Balin faithfully sent his share of Mithril ore, so much that the glittering silver metal now lay piled in the Castle's treasury, forming a bed soft enough for Smaug to rest upon.
Moreover, within the belly of Weathertop itself, Sylas had buried a Mother Lode of Mithril, whose radiant energy slowly transformed the surrounding veins of iron into new Mithril, a self-renewing supply.
Though the process was gradual, it was sustainable, and, more importantly, endless.
So, under Smaug's mournful gaze, Sylas casually scooped up a mound of Mithril ore and tossed it into the smelting furnace.
The forge roared to life. Silver fire danced, and molten Mithril shimmered like liquid starlight.
He molded the glowing metal into the shape of a Vanishing Cabinet and carved intricate runes across its surface.
But even as the first Mithril Cabinet solidified, Sylas's mind raced further.
Referencing the magical framework of two-sided mirrors, the same principle behind his earlier scrying mirrors, he realized that the one-to-one limitation of Vanishing Cabinets was wasteful.
Why should each pair be bound to a single destination?
If he could recalibrate the enchantments to handle multiple connection frequencies, then one cabinet could link to several others, chosen at will.
So he began experimenting, refining, recalculating, and reforging.
For several months, his workshop glowed day and night. Mithril sparks flew as runes were rewritten, arrays overlapped, and control mechanisms evolved.
Finally, his efforts bore fruit: a new generation of Vanishing Cabinets was born.
He forged six of them in total.
Each cabinet, cast entirely from Mithril, was virtually indestructible. No flame, storm, or blade could mar their surface. Their teleportation stability surpassed every prior version, even magical interference could not disrupt their link.
Most remarkably, each door bore a rotating pointer embedded within a circular dial. Around it were several colored segments, engraved with the names of faraway lands:
"Rivendell," "Lothlórien," "Isengard," "Bree City," "Hogsmeade."
By simply turning the pointer to the chosen name, the cabinet would realign its magical resonance and connect to the corresponding location, a vast web of instantaneous portals.
When the work was complete, Sylas distributed them accordingly.
He sent one cabinet each to Rivendell, Lothlórien, Isengard, Bree City, and Hogsmeade, while keeping the final one within Weathertop Castle itself as the central hub.
Upon receiving their Vanishing Cabinets, Elrond of Rivendell and Galadriel and Celeborn of Lothlórien marveled at the craftsmanship. They praised Sylas's invention as a strategic miracle, a tool that could ensure their people's survival should war ever reach their borders.
If Rivendell or Lothlórien were to face destruction, their citizens could be evacuated instantly, without loss or chaos.
For the Elves, it was nothing short of a divine gift.
Meanwhile, the cabinets installed in Bree City, Hogsmeade, and Isengard were placed directly in the city squares, glowing gateways that hummed softly with stable magic.
Now, Bree's merchants could step through the cabinet and appear in Hogsmeade within moments; travelers from Isengard could visit Bree or Hogsmeade without a day's journey.
The once-distant settlements were suddenly united, their people and trade flowing freely between them.
Of course, Sylas did not make these portals free for use.
Ordinary citizens paid a modest toll, affordable even for the poor, while merchants moving goods were charged proportionally to the value of their cargo.
He delegated the management of these logistics to Mayor Luke, Mayor Graeme, and Brog, leader of the Dunlendings, instructing them to deliberate and decide on pricing and regulation together.
With his immense wealth, Sylas had no interest in profit. But he refused to let his people grow complacent or entitled.
He knew well that unearned generosity breeds resentment.
Fortunately, the citizens of Bree, Hogsmeade, and Isengard had no such arrogance.
However, the residents of the three areas apparently had no objections, instead considering it a matter of course.
After all, their Lord had specially created these magical Vanishing Cabinets for them, devices that could bypass long, perilous journeys and transport them instantly to another place.
Such wonders were beyond their imagination.
To experience them firsthand, residents from all three regions crowded into the public squares where the gleaming cabinets stood. People waved coins eagerly, forming long queues that wound across the plazas, all waiting for their turn to step inside and witness the miracle of instant travel.
The merchants, of course, were the most delighted of all.
Before, trade between cities meant long and dangerous journeys , roads filled with bandits, harsh weather, and weeks of exhausting travel. Goods often arrived late or spoiled; profits vanished into the hands of escorts and guards.
But now, all that had changed.
With a single step through the Vanishing Cabinets, they could transport goods instantly from Bree City to Hogsmeade, or from Hogsmeade to Isengard.
The merchants of Bree filled their cabinets with food, wine, and crafted goods, selling them in Hogsmeade within minutes. Hogsmeade's artisans and farmers sent their handmade tools, fabrics, and harvests to Bree. The flow of trade between the two cities became constant and vibrant.
Even the Vanishing Cabinet in Isengard saw no less foot traffic than the others.
Sylas had deliberately placed it not within the tower of Orthanc, but among the Dunlending tribe. He wanted them, not Saruman's old ruins, to be the heart of new commerce and civilization.
His choice proved wise.
Clever merchants from Bree and Hogsmeade quickly realized that Isengard's people were eager to trade. They began sending goods south through the Vanishing Cabinets to barter for raw materials, livestock, and ores.
The Dunlendings, in turn, transported their finest cattle, sheep, and horses north to sell in the bustling marketplaces of Bree and Hogsmeade.
The network flourished.
Even itinerant traders from Rohan and Gondor soon caught wind of the miracle. These southern merchants, who had once endured month-long journeys along the treacherous North–South Road, now willingly paid generous tolls to use the Vanishing Cabinets.
Where once they risked ambushes and starvation, now they could move safely and swiftly, bypassing entire mountain ranges in seconds.
Within mere months, Bree and Hogsmeade were transformed. Streets that had once grown quiet after dusk now remained lively deep into the night, echoing with shouts, laughter, and the clinking of coins.
Isengard, too, prospered. The Dunlendings, who had once lived in poverty, now earned silver and gold from tolls and trade. With their new wealth, they began founding workshops, tanneries, and herding guilds, their rough settlements evolving into thriving towns.
And while the three regions bustled with commerce, Hogwarts Castle grew no less lively.
Within its ancient halls, Bill, Sylas's first student and apprentice wandmaker, had reached a new milestone.
After months of study under his teacher's guidance, Bill had successfully crafted not only his own wand, but also over five hundred wands for the newly transformed Wizards of Sylas's domain.
When these long-awaited wands were distributed, the Castle erupted with excitement.
For six months, these Wizards had studied diligently, memorizing magical theory, mastering incantations, and receiving daily lessons from Sylas's portraits and from Lady Arwen herself.
Though wandless, they had built a deep foundation in magical knowledge.
...
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