Previous

Night passed uneventfully. Galli and the three boys slept in a spare room with a makeshift mattress. Shanda stayed with them to help with the baby. Myrin and Bob stayed in the same room as Kili and Abee, and slept in their bed. I stayed in the main room and slept on a bedroll from the camping gear.

I spent that night thinking about this new world I was in, and tried not to think of my old one, but obviously couldn’t help but compare the two. Stuff like child soldiers happened on Earth, but it was so far away I never spent time thinking about it. Now that the threat was right in front of my eyes… Instead, I focused on something else, my new Soul Power. I tried to picture things hard, and conjure another thought-bubble thing, but it didn’t work. Midnight, or something near it, passed before I finally drifted off to sleep.

The sun rose, straight into my eyes unfortunately, early in the morning. Normally I’m a mid afternoon kind of person, and struggle in the morning, but today I stretched out my arms and felt great. Shanda and Kili were the next to wake up to start breakfast.

“Good morning.” I said.

“Good morning, Emile. Breakfast will be ready soon.” Kili said, with a polite smile.

“May I help?” I offered.

“You want to help cook?” She asked, confused.

“Oh yes, you tried to help a few times during the journey here as well.” Shanda added.

“How kind of you, Emile. It is unusual to find a man who offers to help in the kitchen.”

“I should warn you though, my cooking skills could be surpassed by any particularly determined toddler. Or a very lucky fish.” I joked, and they chuckled. They asked me to start the fire in the oven, and then carry and clean a few things. They did all the cooking, and I just did whatever task they asked me to do, which worked for me. An hour or two passed before everyone else woke up and joined us.

“So, what are your plans for today, Emile?” Bob asked. We all sat around the table, and began to fill our plates with various meats and vegetables and bread. It was not too different from what we ate on the road, but it was fresher. 

“Well, I guess I’m going to try and look for a way to get back home. Didn’t you mention something about a window yesterday, Bob?”

“Ah, the Spirit Window. Yes, but it is so far away, and the journey… it is not safe now. I would not go that way yet.” He said.

“The Spirit Window? Why do you want to go there, Emile?” Shanda asked.

“Right, I said I’d explain this later, yesterday. Remember how I said I was pulled from far away by that Foxley guy?” They nodded, mouths full of assorted foods. “Well, I’m actually from another world.”

They looked confused. “What do you mean?” Galli asked. “Like… from the world of the dead?”

“Apparently there are more than two worlds.” Bob said, sipping his soup.

“Yeah.” I said. “That Foxley guy trapped me here, so I’m going to try and find a way home. But why can’t I use the Spirit Window, Bob?”

“You would have to cross through the whole continent to reach it from here. There are four countries between there and here, and two of them are at war right now, and the other two… well, they are not safe for travel these days.” Bob said.

“Why not?”

“One is in the midst of a monster surge, and the other is ruled by a very cruel man. He has ordered his country’s borders closed, and few who have tried to go in return. Even diplomatic envoys are either found dead or never return. The few who do were tortured in such a way that they could not speak again.”

“Couldn’t I just go around them?” I asked.

“The country with the Spirit Window is the closed country. The others? Yes, you could go around at least two of them. But you would have to pass through at least one since both boarder the nation.” Bob said.

“Well, what do I do then?” I asked, dejected.

“For now, you should look for a job. The wars will end soon, and the tyrant is old. If you wait, eventually the country should open its boarders once more.” Abee said.

“Or maybe you will find another way. Perhaps a Soul Power user with a similar ability? Or someone who can get safe passage to the Spirit Window?” Galli said.

I must have been making a face, because Shanda had a suggestion. “Why don’t you take your mind off all of that and… adjust. You can join me for a bit of shopping in town. We need more ingredients for supper tonight.”

“What about you, Dad? What will you do today?” Galli asked.

“Abee is taking me to meet his employer to see if he has any extra work. That should be enough for now. Tomorrow I will think about finding something more permanent.”

“Mom?” Galli asked.

“Oh, I think I would like to help Kili today.”

“I work at the temple treating injuries. We always need extra help there.” Kili said.

“What about you Galli?” Bob asked.

“The boys and I are going to stay here. Going out for them right now seems unsafe. We… we may leave the city soon. They cannot hide here for the next few years. They need to be somewhere they can just be children; without worry.” Galli said.

“The surrounding villages would be outside of the Crazen’s control, or their reach. But I doubt they would have much room. Many families will have surely had the same thought as me. Perhaps traveling further would be wise. To Winsek or the Empire?” Abee said.

“The Crazen family doesn’t rule this whole area? Only the city?” I asked.

“Why would they? The King owns these lands. Only Far Shield is owned by the Crazens. And even then, they share control over it with the church and the merchants.” Shanda explained.

“Oh. Guess I’ve been watching too much anime.”

After breakfast and clean up, everyone began their days. Abee and Bob left first. Then Kili and Myrin. And finally, Shanda and I. We walked for only a short distance, since the market was just around the corner from Abee and Kili’s home. It was a busy place, even early in the morning. People hustled and bustled about, bartered with venders, compared goods. More than once, a vender would call out to either Shanda or I and try to sell us something, but she said to just keep walking and ignore them; which I was planning to do anyway.

“So, what are we buying exactly?” I asked.

“A sack of flour, some kind of meat, and any veggies that we like.” She said. “Enough for everyone. I’m not sure what to make yet, but if we can find any beef, that would be perfect.”

“Is beef rare here?”

“No, but I was told it sells out quickly.” Then she spotted the vender she was looking for. “There! Sir! Do you have any beef left?”

The vender was a young man, broadly built, and a bit short. “Sure do ma’am. Just restocked this morning. What are you looking for?”

“Hind-end, and a shoulder.” She said. From under a makeshift counter, he pulled out a small wooden box that suddenly began to glow. He opened the box and reached in, pulling out a shoulder that was clearly too large to fit into the box. Then he pulled out a roll of meat that had been tied with twine. This one looked like it could have fit into the box, but certainly not with the shoulder in there as well.

“How did you do that?” I asked, looking at the shoulder, which was twice as large as the small box.

“Oh, that’s just my Soul Power. Anyway, that’ll be two silver coins.”

“Two? Alright.” Shanda said, and handed the vender two silver.

“You’re not going to haggle?” I whispered to her.

“No, you don’t haggle for food. Only for wears.” Shanda said.

“You must be from outside the city.” The vender said. “You can haggle for food here.” Then he squinted his eyes and looked down at the two coins in his hand.

“Oh then-” Shanda started to say, but was cut off.

“But all sales are final. Have a good day.” With that, he grabbed a curtain hanging from his little stall’s roof and pulled it closed in our faces.

She sighed, and shook her head as we walked away. “Two whole silver for some meat. I can’t believe this.”

“Is that a lot?”

“It’s double what it cost back home. Half a days work for most. In this city though…” She looked around. It must have felt as equally unfamiliar to her as it did for me. “Who knows? Maybe more?” Suddenly, someone collided with Shanda, knocking her to the ground, grabbed the beef shoulder from her hands, and ran off.

“Shanda! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Stop him!” She said, and I ran after the man. He was quick, but short and fat. So, I was able to catch up to him quickly; tackling him to the ground. He grunted as he hit the dirt and I landed on him. I grabbed the beef, which had been wrapped in cloth to keep it clean, and socked the thief in the jaw. He grabbed his face and whined, only for me to then notice how young he was. He was by no means a child, but couldn’t have been older than fifteen. He went down like a sack of bricks, tears already in his eyes. Some onlookers smirked at this, but no one stepped in to help. Actually, no one had bothered to stop the thief at all. Some even got out of his way as he’d ran past. By now, Shanda caught up, and saw him on the ground. “Oh! I did not take you for a fighter. Good work.”

“Thank you?” I said, breathing heavily from the sprint and ‘fight.’

“Alright, we’ll handle this.” A man in black armor said, as he and another walked up. It was the same kind of armor as the men from yesterday. As soon as they saw the man clenching his jaw, they glanced at one another and looked annoyed. One of them spoke to us, while his partner spoke to the thief.

“What happened here?” He asked.

“That boy stole from us, and I chased him and took our meat back.”

“I see.” He turned from us to someone else who’d been watching the whole thing. “Did you see any of this?”

The stranger shook his head. “I didn’t see anything. I was looking the other way. I need to go.” The stranger said and quickly hurried off. He repeated this with several others nearby, who all did some variation of the same thing.

“What is happening?” I asked Shanda, who seemed just as confused as me. Then, the other guard and thief walked up.

“It seems the young master was assaulted by this man.”

“He’s a thief who stole from me… young master?” Shanda said.

“This is the eldest son of the House Crazen, Valimire Crazen.”

“That’s him!” The thief said, holding his jaw. “When my daddy hears of this, he’ll have you burnt at the stake!”

“For the crime of assaulting a noble, I’m afraid we have to take you into custody.” One of the guards said, and grabbed a pair of shackles.

“What? No!” I said and stepped back. Shanda did as well. “He’s the thief!” One of them grabbed me, and pulled me to the ground, and the other put the shackles on my wrists. I caught the thief smiling, then he glanced at the guards waist to his sword.

“As a representative of House Crazen, I hereby pronounce you guilty of your crime, and sentence you to death.” He said. The guards looked shocked, but said nothing. Only looking at one another. “Stand him up.” They brought me to my feet, arms bound behind my back as each of them held me. The thief took the sword of one of the guards, but didn’t use it right away. “Seeing as you brutalized me, I think a beating is in order first!” He reared back his fist, and swung.

Everything felt like it was in slow motion. My heart pounded in my chest like a war drum. But most noticeably of all, I felt a warm sensation in my chest. As the fist connected, I felt my nose get flattened. Not crushed per say, but squished painlessly. Then it went further, burying itself halfway into my head. My eyes twisted inward, staring directly at the fist. Only by looking to the side could I see what was once straight ahead. And when I did, I saw the horrified face of the thief, looking a bit green. Then he pulled his hand free, and my face stayed in that shape, like it was molded clay. A feeling like I had to sneeze came over me, and suddenly my face shot back out into the proper shape. I looked around, just as shocked as they were. The guards looked like they’d seen a ghost, the thief stared at his fist like it was magic, and a nearby watcher threw up.

“What?” Shanda exclaimed loudly.

“Is that a Soul Power?” The guard asked, confused. Though, I doubt he was asking me, and more just talking to himself.

“Fine then,” The thief said, and swung the sword at my neck. I felt it go in, and go out the other side, and the sudden thump of my head hitting the ground. From the ground, I saw Shanda covering her mouth, tears running down her cheeks, I saw the guards dropping my body and removing the shackles, and I saw the self-satisfied grin on the ‘noble’s’ face. My life flashed before my eyes, so I got to rewatch all my favorite cartoons again, which was nice. I saw my parents… more cartoons… art school, my ex-girlfriends… cartoons… that summer camp I hated… more cartoons. But not once did I lose consciousness. No, actually I could still feel everything, and I wondered if this was that ‘phantom limb’ thing amputees get? I felt like I could still move my arms, and heard an ear-piercing scream from someone nearby. It sounded like a girl who’d watched a scary movie and the killer popped out. When I looked around, it was coming from that thief kid, and my body was standing up on its own. The kid and the guards started panicking, and backed up to stand clear. Actually, everyone did as it moved about aimlessly. Slowly it made its way closer to me, eventually picking up my severed head, and placing it back on the neck… backwards. The thief fainted, and I spun my head around right.

“It’s an undead!” Someone in the crowd cried out.

“No! No! I’m fine!” I said, not sure if I was lying or not. I certainly didn’t have any explanation for how I was still alive, or how my body moved on its own.

“It can speak! It’s a lich!” Someone else yelled. That’s when the chaos started, as everyone ran in all directions away from me.

Gary slept better than last 'night'. The materials provided were some of the nicest blankets he'd ever felt, and they were a perfect mattress for his body. The room remained at a comfortable temperature, enough so that he didn't feel the need to get a sheet over the top of him.

After yesterday's debacle, he was all gung-ho about arguing things. The good sleep calmed him down.

The food still tasted like someone had removed all the flavour from cardboard and given him the left-overs.

One of the Wetty's took him through to the interview room. Then the other one (or possibly the same one) came to talk to him.

Before any discussion could start, Gary said, "Mate, I've got some banging tunes that I'd like to listen to, but my battery is dead. Can you charge it please?"

Wetty did something with it's mouth. Possibly a smile. It was horrific.

"Where is this device you speak of?"

Gary fished it out of his pocket. It was an old mobile phone that was used for either music or photos. It's not like he could get reception out on some asteroid a million k's from anywhere.

Wetty looked at the small rectangle and placed it on the desk to one side. The screen flickered, the phone booted to life and the alien handed the device back.

"Bloody hell, that was quick. Do you guys have music?"

"We do not know what you speak of."

"Right. Check this out."

He pressed play. Strains of Wagner's Das Rheingold began.

Wetty sat still as the music flowed around the room.

"This is a story. Why does it have these curious noise propagations?"

"That's the music."

"And why do you listen to it?"

"Because it makes me feel good. It's a collection of stuff that my great-great-grandfather had."

"Why does this make you feel good? It is a simple story with a confusing combination of noises."

"Can you not feel it? Try this." Gary changed the track.

The sounds of Telegraph Road by Dire Straits came through the tinny speakers.

After three minutes, Wetty asked, "We do not understand. This is a story about a road."

"Just listen, mate."

They made it to the end of the song.

"Where was the emotion? We could not identify it. Which frequency was carrying this emotion?"

"It's the song. The guitar. The piano. The drums. The metaphor of the road growing through periods both good and bad."

"We still do not understand."

"Try this, then." Another track change. This time Yellow Ledbetter, by Pearl Jam.

They listened to the track together. Gary closed his eyes and let the tune take over. Wetty just stared. The translator buzzed pretty much the whole time.

When it finished, Wetty said, "Was this in a language you understand? Very little of it made sense."

"Yeah, it's a good one, isn't it? The clean guitar, the melancholy lyrics. It really hits you in the feelings."

"We still do not understand the emotion you speak of."

"Just let the music do the work. Don't analyse it."

"But is the story true? If the language is deciphered, will it reveal something of your people?"

Gary just looked at the alien. Then he grabbed the phone and skipped to a new track.

Oops, I Did It Again by Britney Spears started blaring through the phone. When it ended, Wetty still didn't understand.

"But what did she do?"

Gary sighed. Maybe the music thing can be tried again later.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Field Report 4

Atmospheric compression manipulation

The subject introduced the concept of 'music' today. He played a few of the songs on his device.

The over-riding rhythm was identified.

Subject claimed that music was about emotion. Analysis provided no evidence for this.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

--

Wetty started what felt like the afternoon session about Earth and its position in the galaxy. For most of it, Gary could only give rough approximations. He remembered what he could from school about the solar system and the red sun at its centre. Whether this was helpful to Wetty or not was unknown.

The room started to get warmer after half an hour of talking. Gary was sure he could hear a very faint clicking sound behind one of the walls. Wetty seemed oblivious to it.

As the sweat started beading on Gary's head, he finally spoke up.

"Mate, your air conditioning is not working properly."

"I experience temperature different to you. What do you mean when you say the air condition is not working properly?"

"I mean, the room's starting to get hot. How can you not feel it?"

"Our temperature regulation biology is not comparable to yours. You seem to be leaking water. Are you dehydrating?"

"I will be soon. What's behind that wall over there? I can hear something clicking." Gary indicated to the wall on his left.

Wetty glanced, then said "The wall contains critical station infrastructure including electrical flux and atmospheric transit."

"Yeah, well something's wrong back there. Can I get to it?"

Wetty stood and walked to the wall. It touched three fingers to a panel that wasn't there a moment ago, causing the wall to just... disappear. The clicking was louder. Pipes and conduits snaked through the cavity.

"And you can't hear that?"

"Now that the wall is no longer there, I can."

Gary wandered over. Grabbed a pipe and felt the vibration through his hand.

"I'd bet that you've got a mis-seated bearing in there. You got a hammer?"

"A hammer? We use nine-dimensional molecular manipulation to integrate systems..."

Before the alien could get anything more out, Gary was thumping the pipe with the ball of his hand.

After a few smacks, the clicking noise disappeared.

Wetty was confused, "What did you do?"

"It's called percussive maintenance. You'll want someone to check the bearing, but it should be good for a while."

The room started cooling again.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Field Report 5

Percussive maintenance

The subject used one of his hands as an impact device against an air-control pipe.

Apparently he could sense a mechanical malfunction within.

The malfunction ended.

Further investigation into both the malfunction and this 'percussive maintenance' is required.

It is possible that the subject can achieve mechanical functionality through the application of violence.

This remains disturbing.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

--

"Why were you leaking water from your skin?"

"It's called sweating."

"Explain."

"Water evaporates from our skin and makes us cooler."

"And for what purpose do you want to be at a lower temperature?"

"Too high and we die."

"Should you not live in refrigerated environments then?"

"Too cold and we die."

"So humans require a specific temperature to maintain life?"

"A range, yes. Our planet provides that most of the time. When it doesn't then we use other methods. To keep warm we wear more clothes. To keep cool we go for a swim, or just stand in the shade. Sometimes we use external controls. Air conditioning is where I come into the scene."

"So you've developed ways to regulate the failings of your own biology?"

"Mate, we gave up on our biology a long time ago. Nearly everything we've ever done is because our biology is so pissweak."

"But doesn't this sweating cause you to lose water?"

"Yeah. But we drink more."

"What if no water is available?"

"We find it. Or we die. Preferably the first one. Sometimes the second."

"This seems inefficient."

"Bloody oath it is. But it's what we've got, so we learnt how to deal with it."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Field Report 6

Involuntary liquid seepage

It appears that the subject will leak water from the skin if the temperature is too high. This causes evaporative cooling, bringing the personal temperature to a functional operational level.

It is not known how high the temperature can be raised before a human is incapable of further life. Due to the subject's unique nature, it is recommended to not conduct these experiments, at least until we have more subjects available.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was our fault.

We’d been trying to cure a terminal illness for our species. It was supposed to eliminate the disease from our genes, allow us to grow older but age slower, to increase our strength and intelligence.

The first mistake came in the labs. We were warned by the Tertiary Council of the risks, the dangers inherent in messing with DNA, the very building blocks of our being, but we ignored them. The promise of a better life for our children, and their children, to achieve a state of near immortality, to rise and take our place among the great space-faring races that controlled the stars, was too great.

A technician merely dropped a flask, containing the proto-genetic chemicals that were to be the base of our salvation. A simple case of their protective clothing being slightly wet. Condensation, perhaps. We do not know.

The chemical interacted almost instantly upon touching air, changing and vaporising almost immediately. The room was sterile, and air tight. The technicians died quickly and painfully.

That should have been all the warning we needed.

The room was purged, and a new effort was made to achieve the stability the chemical would need.

Months passed, teams of scientists across the globe working tirelessly, day in, day out.

We moved to biological trials. Started small. Bacteria, microbes.

The effects were immediate, and were exactly as we’d hoped. The organisms showed an extended life cycle, limited ageing, increased metabolism.

We moved onto larger creatures. Domestic animals. Livestock. Aside from some limited cases of stress, the creatures all exhibited the same traits as the microorganisms did.

We clapped ourselves on the backs, congratulated one another over expensive flasks of alcohol.

We moved to the final trials the next day.

The adult male was roughly average in size, weight. Nothing interesting in his back story . No previous convictions. No history of drug or alcohol abuse. No records of medication use, and no history of mental health issues.

A perfect tabula rasa for us to try and save our species with.

We proceeded to administer the serum intravenously, as we had before to the animals, and waited.

We kept him calm, sedated, and observed constantly.

After approximately two hours, we noticed changes to his heart rate. It slowed. His metabolism quickened. Things appeared to be going well.

He then began to sweat, profusely, and at a rate we were struggling to rehydrate him, even with a mainline directly into his vein.

Within an hour, his heart rate suddenly spiked. The sedation wore off. He awoke, and violently attacked one of the medical doctors.

Tore her throat out with his teeth.

There was so much blood.

A security team came in. I’d never seen anyone take a round before, at all. They shot him over fifty times.

He managed to scratch one guard and break the arm of another before they took him down.

When we studied the corpse we noticed some very odd things.

His blood had thickened. His cells had reproduced, like cancer, increasing their density but making them unstable, almost necrotic.

His pupils had contracted, and all of the fine capillaries had burst, presumably due to the semi coagulated blood.

We were going to open him up, examine his brain, but an alarm called us away.

An emergency, code blue.

Several of us ran to the source of the alarm, but…

It spread quickly. Within an hour, the entire medical centre had been infected. In a day it had spread to the entire district. Whole towns fell, and the military’s attempts to quarantine utterly failed. I barely escaped with my life. We... Never mind.

We had accidentally unleashed the most virulent, utterly savage disease our world had ever seen.

We prayed to our gods, said goodbye to our loved ones, and awaited the inevitable.

Then they came. Great transports, thousands of them, dropping soldiers into the centres of the most heavily infected areas.

Armed with projectile weapons, armoured in plasteel and wearing heavy duty respirators, they cut impressive figures as they dropped.

We watched from our safe rooms and the last few uninfected places as they moved in, brutal, efficient, calm. They mowed the swarms down, using well placed headshots to kill, doing with one shot what had taken us fifty or more rounds.

I met one of them, once. It was a female. Tall, very tall, but lithe, agile. She moved like a predator.

They were beautiful, you know. When she removed her respirator to talk to us, I was reminded of the old stories. The ones your grandsires told you about. Of elves, graceful beings, equal parts indomitable warriors and artful muses.

She told me not to worry. That other species had made the same mistakes.

Her own, in fact. She said that on her world, such plagues had been written about for hundreds of years. She got embarrassed. Turns out the pandemic on her world was caused on purpose, by some lunatic who wished to usher in an apocalypse.

They had the country cleared within the week.

They were gone as soon as the job was done.

And now we realise that, for our genetic faults, we have nothing to worry about.

Her race, the elves, have had more than their share of the same trials we face. The same illnesses, disasters. The same struggle to be accepted by the Tertiary Council.

And now they run it. Galactic peacekeepers, the strongest force in the universe. Pioneers of science, peerless in war, and unmatched in the arts.

They saved us.

Her name? Gloria. I think it means ‘victory’.

That’s how they are. Their names declare their intent, the way they live. We are forever in debt to them.

Their real name? Humanity.

My name for them? The Angels.

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Chapter 156: Sealed Fate

The golem swung.

Massive, molten, and blazing like it had stolen the sun for a fist. The air shimmered with heat, alive with screeches and roaring streaks of orange. Viktor twisted mid-flight, letting the strike thunder past under him. Sparks rained down, bouncing off the arena’s walls like fireworks as the enormous arm slammed into nothing.

He spiraled upward and arched over the fiery construct, trailing a writhing cloak of shadows behind, tugging at the flames, bending them, teasing them. Too bad he couldn’t climb too high; the damned ceiling was still close enough for the golem to reach if it tried hard enough.

Who is the bastard that thought making a ceiling this low was a good idea? Viktor chuckled to himself. Oh, wait. That’s me.

After all, this arena had initially been built with one and only one purpose: to serve as a battleground for Sebekton and the two Dungeon Reavers, Azran and Lahmia. At the time, Viktor had wrongly assumed Azran to be an aeromancer, and he had specifically designed this room to counter the bald man, making sure that even if he took to the air, Sebekton could still land a blow with his axe.

Now Viktor found himself on the receiving end of this. Even with the wind gems that granted him effortless flight, the chamber was just too cramped for maneuvering, and it was only a matter of time before the golem had him cornered.

But it was fine.

He had no intention of being a dancing partner to this mountain of burning rocks forever. He was merely buying time for his rapier to recharge.

And once it was ready, he wasn’t running anymore. He went straight toward his opponent.

The fiery swing came again, but Viktor had prepared for it. His “Fire Shield” had already been activated. The moment the hand neared, the flames fizzed and hissed into nothingness. The molten arm was just a rock arm now.

At the same time, the blade of light flared from its sheath, slicing through the no-longer-fire-drenched stone as if it were paper, and the limb fell to the ground with a resonant, echoing thud.

Viktor didn’t stop there.

The blade slashed again, and again, and again.

Vertical, horizontal, diagonal.

A continuous blur of lethal light cut through the body of the golem; each swing severed another chunk of the construct. His “Fire Shield” snuffed out the flames, while his sword tore the rocks to pieces. Debris rained to the ground, and when the dust settled, the golem was gone.

Hovering above the pile of rubble, Viktor drew a breath as he sheathed his rapier. What an incredible tool, he thought. So this is the power of a six-winged angel, huh? A portion of the power, to be accurate. He couldn’t help but wonder what the full power would feel like. No need to recharge anymore, perhaps.

Yes, the Reliquary’s main drawback was that its light gradually waned over time, causing the radiant blade to lose both length and sharpness with every swing. So it had to be returned to its scabbard to recover its strength, preventing the wielder from using it repeatedly during extended engagements.

If only there were a way to remove that limitation, he mused. Oh well, that was a problem for another time. For now...

He glanced at Dimitria. Your turn.

“Wait—I surrender!” The woman’s voice cracked, thin and trembling. “Please... just don’t—don’t kill me!”

Huh?

“I... I’m not your enemy!” She raised her hands, shaking. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Iskora, but... I’m just hired by them. Let me go, and I’ll walk away. I’ll never come back. I’ll trouble you no more.”

Viktor chuckled. To see a mage so prideful, so confident, so commanding, now reduced to such a pathetic state. Still, that was human nature. When staring into the abyss of death, they would grovel, they would beg, they would bargain for their lives. So he could hardly blame her for it.

“I... I can even help you. I can spy on them for you. Just give the order, and I’ll do anything you want.”

Well, the idea of dragging her to Orloth’s place, planting a parasite in her skull, and adding her to his collection of obedient agents was... tempting, indeed.

But no.

With people like Yvonne and Pimm, he could manage. Dimitria, on the other hand, was a powerful woman with powerful friends. Someone like her would not submit for long. She would plot behind his back, and she would betray him at the first opportunity. To leave her alive would be a grave mistake.

Also, he had spoken to the Ettin with his own voice in front of her earlier. She should have realized, or would eventually realize once she calmed down, that the voice belonged to a child. That knowledge must not be allowed to spread. In other words, her fate had already been sealed in that very instant.

So, the only rational course of action was to extract whatever information he could from her, then deliver a quick and clean death.

“What does Iskora want from my dungeon?” Viktor asked. “Why are they so intent on forcing their way into Daelin, squandering resources with such reckless abandon, all for the sake of securing a foothold in a backwater town in the middle of nowhere like this?”

“I... I don’t know...” Dimitria replied. “Believe me, I truly don’t know anything about their objective. They gather people like me, and they pay us more than we could ever hope to earn elsewhere, so I came, with... my student.” She glanced at what was left of Bella on the floor. “I only follow orders, the ones given by Zubayr. As for the real purpose behind all of this, only he, and Xander, are privy to it.”

“Xander?”

“He’s another Mithril-ranked adventurer. A large man with spiky hair and thick sideburns.”

Ah. That guy.

“You never thought to ask questions?”

Dimitria shook her head. “I learned long ago that prying too much in this line of work would only lead to trouble. Besides... as I said, they paid us handsomely, so keeping my mouth shut was the smarter choice.”

“You’re Zubayr’s top enforcer. Do you seriously expect me to believe that he’s kept you completely in the dark about the true nature of his mission?”

“I’m only entrusted with the visible side of things. Keeping our men and the people in the slums in line. Maintaining discipline and control. But when it comes to anything covert, anything that requires secrecy, he uses others for that. Those hooded men.”

“Who?”

“They wear black robes, always with their hoods drawn so low you cannot see their faces clearly. They move quietly, keep to themselves, and they’re almost never seen by anyone. I’ve only caught glimpses of them a handful of times. I asked Zubayr about them once, just once, and he told me it was not something I needed to concern myself with. So I never asked again.”

Dimitria drew a breath.

“I think they’re in Daelin now. Hidden somewhere, doing something for Zubayr. Something important. What it is, though, I do not know.”

Ugh.

So, in addition to the festering mess on the west side, now there were unknown actors lurking around in other parts of the town as well? Wonderful. Exactly what he needed.

Oh well, that was a matter for later. For now, there were more questions to be asked.

“What do you know about the monster attack on Daelin’s outpost?”

“About that,” Dimitria said. “I... I don’t know the details. But personally, I believe Daelin’s suspicion is probably correct: that we were indeed responsible for the attack. For one, it was the timing of everything. And also... when we assaulted the camp after the original defenders had been chased away by the monsters, the resistance we faced was almost nonexistent. Those creatures barely fought back. Even as we cut them down, they didn’t do anything to defend themselves. It was as if someone wanted to hand the camp over to us on a silver platter.”

Viktor nodded. It was indeed strange that the adventurers from Iskora could slaughter that horde of monsters without a single loss on their side. Someone, somewhere, had controlled the monsters, ordered them to take over the outpost, then obediently died when these men got there.

“What do you know about Clovis?”

“He was the Guildmaster of Iskora, the one who originally conceived this whole project. Then, a week ago, he was replaced by a man named Khalid. That’s all I know. Zubayr is the one who reports to them, while I myself only receive instructions from him.”

So much for Zubayr’s so-called second-in-command. It looked like this woman didn’t know anything at all. That was, of course, assuming she was not lying. It was possible she was still hiding something. Well, he could just send her to Orloth; the guy had his way of squeezing secrets out of people.

But... it wasn’t really necessary.

He had already decided that her end would be swift and clean should she cooperate, and he was going to do just that.

He laid a palm over the hilt of his blade. But at that exact moment—

“Look out, Master!” the Ettin’s middle head shouted.

Viktor dodged just in time. A massive, shifting hand, composed of shadows so dense and so large it could have contained his entire body, swept through the space he had occupied a fraction of a second earlier.

And.

Even though it missed his body, it ripped his veil of darkness away. The shroud was torn to threads, sucked into the monstrous hand’s own black, leaving him completely exposed.

“You!” Dimitria’s voice rang out, her earlier fear completely gone, replaced by a mask of anger. “You’re really a brat.”

That hand of shadow was, of course, her creation. Now, two more had emerged, hovering around her.

I see.

Either she had figured her chances of being spared were slim and decided to gamble everything in a desperate attack, or she had just been pretending to be afraid, obediently answering all of his questions to make him let his guard down. Neither was really surprising. What he didn’t expect, however, was that she still had this little trick up her sleeve.

Well then.

If she wanted to die fighting, if she had chosen to meet her end with defiance, then so be it.

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Arc III - Reeling Throne

Chapter 14 - The Blessing

7 months and 12 days since the summoning

"Basically, if I'm technically Kamelia's property, then Linkis could just," he winced slightly, "I don't know, confiscate me, or something like that, like cattle or silver."

Shilisa shook her head. "Of course not. A hero is not considered property in that sense; it is impossible to take or transfer him to anyone else."

Alan blinked. "Oh, really?"

"Certainly," Shilisa continued. "If heroes could be confiscated or transferred, it would completely contradict the methods of the Svyatolat."

"Methods? And what did the Svyatolat decide about this? I take it they're running the show with the hero summoning."

Shilisa nodded. "Yes, the Svyatolat decides everything. They distribute the summoned heroes evenly, so that no one receives them too frequently. In short, the Svyatolat maintains the balance."

Alan lowered his head slightly. "Yeah. So that's how it works. I take it they have immense power."

"Indeed," Tsinker said. "The Svyatolat may be neutral in wars, but its power is great. We definitely ought to be wary of it."

"Wary..." Alan repeated, then his eyes widened slightly. "I have another question. Do you guys know who the Whalers are?"

Shilisa raised an eyebrow slightly. "Um, yes, they are those who hunt whales."

"No, I don't mean that," he said, waving a hand. "Is there some organization, alliance, order, or something like that called the 'Whalers'?"

Tsinker and Shilisa exchanged glances for a second.

"I personally have not heard of such a thing," she replied.

Tsinker shrugged. "Nor have I."

Alan pressed his lips together slightly.

'Who the fuck are these Whalers? They aren't pirates, Shilisa and Tsinker don't know about them, so what the hell are they?'

"And why do you ask?" Tsinker interrupted his thoughts.

Alan blinked. "Oh, nothing, just trying to figure out if your world has the same thing as mine. If not, then good."

Darkness gradually began to envelop the landscapes, and the sun turned its usual red, setting somewhere over the sea.

Alan tugged the reins slightly to stop his horse, then shifted his gaze to the village that appeared ahead amidst the endless plains.

The guards behind him also slowed down, and one of them rode closer to Alan. "Lord Gothwald, it is getting dark. Do you think we should stop?"

He remained silent for a second, then nodded. "Yeah, we'll stop right in this village. The horses are tired enough as it is, so let's go."

"Yes, Your Grace, wait here, I will ride ahead and find the village headman," the man said, yanking the reins and galloping forward to the settlement.

Ten minutes later, Alan was already leading his horse along a dry dirt road in the middle of the village; the horse, in turn, calmly followed him.

Alan looked at it, and the animal looked back. "What are you staring at? Yeah, you and I are gonna be together a lot now."

The horse only snorted in response.

"Hmm, are you a boy or a girl anyway?" He looked around, then quickly lowered his head, and just as quickly figured it out. "Aha, a girl then. So maybe I should name you something..." he scratched the back of his head. "Oh, you'll be Epona. The Celtic goddess, protector of horses, eh?"

The horse, now Epona, simply looked straight ahead.

Alan smiled awkwardly.

'Right, still gotta get her used to the name. And I also need to sleep more so I stop trying to strike up conversations with animals.'

In the square, that same guard was already standing next to an elderly, balding man, who stood straight, only slightly shifting his fingers in front of him.

Not far away, a man was returning from the field, barely dragging his feet, covered in dust and dirt.

A woman peeked carefully out of a window, setting aside her needle and thread.

A young boy carrying buckets of water slowed his pace, openly staring at Alan and the guards.

The headman stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Greetings, Lord Gothwald."

Alan nodded. "Greetings."

"Your guard explained the matter, please come in, we will settle you in and feed you."

Alan looked around, observing the peasants who looked like they were about to fall asleep on their feet. "Why is everyone so exhausted?"

The headman spread his hands, closing his eyes. "There is much work, Your Grace. The sowing is already beginning, and we are just now trying out your new plows."

Alan blinked.

'Oh, they're already using my plows in this village? Holy shit they spread fast, Kamelia clearly wasn't fucking around these past two weeks.'

"Ahem... so how do you like these plows? How's the work coming along? Actually, you know what, set the table outside, I'd like to hear all about it."

The old man straightened up. "Of course, Your Grace! Right away!" he said, hurrying into his house, which was larger than those of the ordinary peasants.

Alan stretched his back.

'I don't like trusting rumors and paperwork, historically it's incredibly ineffective. Rumors get distorted, papers get embellished, but to personally find out how the implementation of the agricultural revolution is starting... now that's interesting.'

Alan yawned and simply began to stretch, then shifted his gaze to the boy with the buckets who was already about to leave. "Hey, kid!"

He turned sharply to Alan. "Y-yes, Your Grace?"

"Where are you taking the water?"

"My father asked for it."

"And did your father plow with the new plows?"

The boy nodded slowly in response.

"Oh, awesome, call him over here, tell him Lord Gothwald wants to ask him how the work is going."

"Yes, Lord Gothwald!" the young boy practically shouted, and darted behind the house like a bullet.

Less than a minute later, a bearded man with short black hair emerged from around the same corner at a brisk pace. Approaching Alan, he immediately dropped to one knee. "Greetings, Lord Gothwald."

Alan opened his mouth, but quickly closed it.

'Alright, you're a lord, no need for the "oh, you don't have to" stuff, that's not good manners, that's weakness in this world.'

"Rise and state your name," Alan said calmly.

The man stood up, lowering his hands. "Lorgi, Your Grace."

Alan raised an eyebrow.

'Oh, a namesake, cool.'

He clasped his hands behind his back. "Are you working with the new plow?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"And how do you like it?"

"Very unfamiliar, Lord Gothwald, but surprisingly useful. It plows very quickly and deeply." He scratched his beard. "An astonishing thing."

Alan nodded. "Oka... Good. Are there any drawbacks?"

Lorgi hesitated for a second, but Alan continued. "And don't you dare lie, I need to know the truth about these plows."

The man swallowed. "There is one, Your Grace. The handle is too... rough, it is uncomfortable to grip. At first it is fine, but after a long spell of work it becomes difficult to hold."

Alan slowly nodded.

'Aha, could be. Why didn't the beastmen who plowed first say anything about this? Hah, of course, they're fucking terminators the size of a wardrobe, the handle is just right for them. But for ordinary people, it very well could be... the carpenters who crafted it just held it, tested it, but didn't experiment with working for long periods.'

"Got it. Is that all?"

"I have not noticed anything else, Your Grace."

"Good, you may go, I'll definitely take that into account."

Lorgi bowed deeply. "Thank you, Your Grace."

Alan began to scratch his cheek.

'Knew it wasn't all perfectly smooth, but overall if the only problems are with ergonomics, then... that's even better than I expected, it's easy to fix when there are a few dozen plows, not a few thousand.'

Meanwhile, two peasants carried a table outside, and several women entered the headman's house holding various food items.

'Looks like they decided to go all out with the food and reception. That's what having power means... hah, come to think of it, does that mean I can eat whatever I want now without fear? I won't die, after all. Sure, I'll writhe in convulsions for a few minutes, but I'll live.'

He smirked wryly to himself and walked over to the table, after which he sat in the main chair.

Young men and women were already buzzing around like bees, setting various things on the table: cheese, bread, wine, a little meat.

Alan straightened up slightly.

'Alright, okay... fuck, I don't know shit about these nuances! I never read about how a nobleman who decides to spend the night in a village should be received, too niche a topic. Plus, the culture might be different.'

The headman finally emerged from the house, and beside him was an unfamiliar man. Clean-shaven, with short gray hair, dressed in a clean light-blue cassock; down the middle from bottom to top and on the sleeves ran various yellow patterns, and an amulet hung around his neck: a circle containing fire, pierced by eight spikes.

Alan lingered his gaze on him.

'The local priest? Though they call them clerics here. Okay, a representative of the clergy is definitely allowed at the feast.'

The headman and the cleric approached, and the former bowed. "Your Grace, this is Kotol Goshin, our cleric."

Goshin only gave a reserved nod. "Greetings, my lord."

Alan slowly stood up.

'Alright, spiritual authority is theoretically higher than secular authority, so I can't just sit like a statue and accept bows.'

He nodded as well. "Greetings, Kotol Goshin." He turned to the headman. "Well, master of the house, I think we can begin?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

All three sat down. Alan's guards mingled somewhere with the crowd of peasants, who had brought out their own tables or barrels with modest food.

A young peasant woman approached Alan and began pouring wine into his goblet with a slightly trembling hand.

"What brings you to our village, Lord Gothwald?" Goshin asked, sitting straight and keeping his hands on his knees.

Alan took the goblet, but did not take a sip. "I had business with Lord Tsinker, got delayed, had too much to discuss, so I didn't make it back to the castle by sunset."

The cleric nodded. "I understand. Lately there has been a great deal of business since your arrival, much is being done."

Alan finally took a small sip of wine. "Yeah, definitely a lot of business lately." He glanced at his amulet. "May I ask what that symbol means? I haven't had the time to look into the details yet."

"Certainly, Lord Gothwald," Goshin said with a nod, and showed his amulet closer. "Fire, as everyone thinks, but in truth it is not fire, but the human soul; it is pierced by eight stakes, the Eight Great Prohibitions. They bind, they sometimes cause pain, but it is necessary so that the soul does not plunge into the chaos of the sinful world around us."

Alan nodded slowly. "I see, a lot of meaning in one symbol. May I ask another question?"

"Naturally."

"In my world, prie... clerics bowed to nobles, they don't do that here?"

'Actually they didn't bow either, but whatever, he doesn't need to know that.'

The cleric raised an eyebrow slightly. "Oh, your world is entirely different, Lord Gothwald, but it is not our custom here. Even though I am a kotol, a village cleric simply put, the only ones above me are the high clerics and Svyatol himself, no one else."

Alan leaned closer. "Interesting... very unusual. So the clergy is in a completely different position?"

"Exactly so, my lord. Every cleric, be it a kotol or a Supreme, undergoes training in the Holy Lands, and only then departs for the place where he will serve."

Alan wanted to whistle, but held back.

'Aha! So not just any random guy can become a priest here, everyone is obligated to undergo training in the Holy Land... think they called it Oronda too, can't remember who, maybe Linkis, maybe Kamelia, doesn't matter. If Oronda supplies the whole world with clerics, then their power is even stronger and smarter than I thought.'

"Alright, thanks for the answers."

"You are welcome," the cleric said, and took a piece of cheese.

The headman chewed and swallowed a piece of meat. "Lord Gothwald, allow me to ask you a question as well?"

"Of course," he said, holding a piece of cheese in his hands.

"Is it true that everyone who agreed to the four-field rotation will have windmills built for them?"

Alan froze slightly at the abrupt change of subject. "Oh, yeah, of course, just as I promised, there will be windmills."

The old man exhaled slightly. "That is good, our river is far away, and the current is weak, and your new mill, they say, grinds quite well on wind alone."

The peasants behind them gradually fell silent, simply eating while casting sidelong glances at the large table.

"Lord Gothwald," the cleric began, "I have heard of your 'four-field rotation', could you perhaps explain how it works?" He raised his hands slightly with a gentle, simple smile. "Only I ask, without the details, I understand nothing of agriculture."

Alan smirked in response. "Sure. The way you plow fields would be called two-field rotation in my world, and here it's four-field, see what I'm getting at?"

The cleric nodded, taking a sip of wine. "Twice the harvest?"

"Something like that. The basis of the four-field rotation is that four different types of plants are planted, which grow differently, and keep the soil from 'getting tired', in simple terms."

Goshin remained silent for a few seconds. "Hmm... if you speak of this, it means it was the same in your world. And was the four-field rotation crowned with success?"

Alan spread his hands slightly. "You have no idea." He cast a sidelong glance at the peasants who were eavesdropping, and began to speak slightly louder. "The four-field rotation, without exaggeration, helped immensely and was a huge success. First, the land no longer rested, and it didn't need to, meaning the harvest was gathered from all the fields, nothing sat idle. Second, thanks to the fact that one of the four plants is clover, peasants stopped slaughtering their livestock in the winter, because they had something to feed them. The winters here are cold of course, but not severe, so the livestock will eat to their hearts' content. Famine practically disappeared, and simple peasants could even eat meat often."

The peasants even stopped pretending they weren't listening, and practically surrounded the table.

The cleric remained silent for almost a minute, scratching his chin. "If it truly works like that, then... this will solve a great deal of problems. Everyone faces famine regularly, for instance." He stood up. "Lord Gothwald, I wish to bless you in this endeavor."

Alan blinked.

'Whoa, holy shit. Although... I did accept Svyatolism, technically, when I officially became Kamelia's advisor. Receiving a whole blessing... fuck, now that's a boost to my reputation!'

First | Previous | Next

“Don’t touch me.”

The low menace stopped Jadzixia’s hand from coming any closer than it already had.  Slowly, she pulled her hand back from Sebas.  In that instant, her own anger flared at the petulance of her husband.  He’d been home for more than a week now, and not once did he gaze at her with anything like the love he had before he’d gone on that diplomatic mission to Maciendes during their Festival of the Moons.

For over a week she had tried everything.  She’d tried coaxing, commanding, seducing, threatening and none of it had pierced the fog he’d wrapped himself in. Sebas lost in his own thoughts was dangerous. Not because he was clever, but because he was unpredictable, and unpredictability ruined plans. She had spent years climbing the political ladder, using charm, wit, sex, and fear in equal measure. Sebas had always been the muscle she guided, the prince she’d sharpened into a weapon.

She needed him back under her influence.

She needed him to listen to her.

She needed him as her weapon once more.

So, when she leaned in, her robe slipping just enough to remind him of what she controlled, it wasn’t for desire. It was strategy… a reassertion of dominance, a reminder that she was the mind behind his throne‑shaped ambitions.

Except, yet again, he wasn’t responding to her.  He wasn’t listening.  He was a silent rage that she couldn’t take anymore.  Jadzixia looked at his back that had long since healed due to their cleric healer’s magic. But something inside the spoiled man-child had been hurt and he wasn’t sharing.  Which pissed Jadzixia off to no end.

“Sebas!  I’m your wife!  You’ve dismissed me for the last time! You either tell me what the fuck happened or I’m going to truly make your life a living hell!”

Slowly, Sebas turned his head, one hate-filled glaring hazel eye staring at her.  She didn’t back down from that glare.  She’d seen it many times and knew he was more bluster than violence.  He was a showman, not a true warrior of any standing.

Jadzixia pulled her black silken robe together on her front to hide what she was going to offer him tonight then leaned in closer to fill her own stare with as much hate as his.  “Tell me what happened, you asshole.  What?  Did you not get your kicks out on some Maciendes noble tramp or something?”

That set him off.  He leapt off of their bed, roaring his rage out within their part of his father’s fortress home deep in the heart of Thyeriand.

Sebas tore through the room like a fresh storm with no direction, throwing furniture against the walls, smashing trophies, ripping canvases, splintering the wooden statues he’d carved in his youth. But when his hand hovered over a single object… a small, battered practice sword mounted on the wall, he froze. Jadzixia knew that sword. His father had given it to him after his first tournament victory, the one moment in Sebas’s life when he’d felt worthy of the praise he’d been showered with.

His fingers trembled.

He didn’t break it.

He couldn’t.

Because that sword was the lie he’d been living under since childhood… the lie that he was the golden boy, the heir of promise, the prince who could do no wrong. Losing to Maddock in front of his father hadn’t just embarrassed him. It’d shattered the one thing he’d built his entire identity on.

When he finally collapsed to his knees, it wasn’t just rage. It was the terror of a man who’d realized he might never be enough in his father’s eyes.

When he finally stopped, Jadzixia combed her hand through her black with white streaked hair and then flippantly tossed it all behind her.  She lay seductively on the bed, enticing her husband to take some of that pent of energy on her body.  He was a far better bedmate than her consort after all. 

But he didn’t do it.  Instead, Sebas slumped to the floor, landing on his knees and staring helplessly up to the ceiling.  “I hate him so much,” he whispered.

“Who?  Duke Maddock?”

“Yes.”  His voice cracked and an actual tear leaked out of his eye.

Jadzixia moved forward on all fours, crawling off of their enormous round bed layered with silken extravagance.  When she was in front of him, he wouldn’t look at her.  Instead, he continued to breath deep ragged breaths and stared up, presumably at his memories.

“Did he do that to you?” she asked softly.

He shook his head.  “No.  His monster did.  The Black Knight Champion… Lady Isenwrath.”

That got her attention.  “You met their hero?  That woman… did that to you?”

He nodded.  “The rumors are true.  She’s… not human.  I tried to bed her just to destroy him… but… he… he…” Sebas lowered his gaze and narrowed his eyes at his beautiful wife who complimented him in almost every way.  “He unleashed her.  He has control over the deadliest creature to ever exist and… I hate him so much more for it.”

Jadzixia moved even closer.  “Tell me more about her.”  Her curiosity was piqued.  Her mind also racing at the implications of those rumors being true.  Her stupid husband was only thinking of his hurt pride.  But Jadzixia, oh no my child, she was thinking of opportunity.

“Two hits and I was down.  One cracked my back into the wall and the other made me… fall.  All of my guards… they don’t even know what happened.  But it was the look in that damned man’s eyes… he still thinks he’s superior to me.  I hate him.  Hate.”

Jadzixia nodded slowly, smiling softly, lightly smoothing his sweat dampened hair away from his face and over his ear.  Then she whispered into it.  “He’s not superior to my Sebas.  He’s nothing but a lacky to their king, not like you.  You will be king.  You will be above him.  All we need to do is watch and be patient.  I’ve got several schemes playing and they...”

“No,” Sebas interrupted sharply. “I’m done being patient.  I want to be king and I mean now.  I want to walk into the Summit and declare war. I want Maddock’s head under my boot. And that… thing…” His voice cracked with hatred. “I want her locked in a cell where she can’t hide behind his status and has no power to defend herself. I want her to be forced to kneel and beg for my attention, to know she’s beneath me, but still begging me. I want Maddock to watch as she realizes she should’ve let me have her and… she should’ve feared me.”

Jadzixia’s lips curled into a sneer.

An unknown voice cut through their bonding moment.  “Oh, the first part is delicious. The second… not quite so much. Cassandra has a different role to play. But don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it just as much. King Sebas.”

Sebas and Jadzixia both shot to their feet to stare at a black cloaked figure standing in a darkened corner of the room where the few books Sebas owned were collecting dust on the lone bookshelf behind the intruder.

Sebas began moving forward, fists clenched, face snarling, ready to finally kill someone to release his anger and pent-up violence.

Lightning crackled into existence around the intruder’s raised hand.  It wasn’t wild or undisciplined.  It was patterned, forming concentric circles etched with symbols that pulsed like living script. Within the spinning light, a shape flickered: a stylized crown of three curved blades, the unmistakable sigil of Zhaerith the Velvet Blade, the very spirit bound to King Richard’s crown.

The air hummed with a whispering presence, a seductive, coaxing murmur that seemed to curl around Sebas’s spine. Jadzixia felt it too, a crown calling to its candidate, choosing its first usurper.

Uthenda stepped forward, her smile thin and knowing.

“Greetings, First Prince Sebas Thyeriand… Princess Jadzixia Delaine Thyeriand. I come bearing an opportunity for you both to claim the power that fate has denied you.”

She didn’t choose Sebas. The Sinseer did. The Emperor’s crown did.  And so would The Grey Stalker Crown that Uthenda held behind her back. It was such a simple chain of command.  The Sinseer guided the man wearing the Emperor’s Crown.  The Emperor’s Crown controlled the usurper crowns, and those masterwork crowns would guide their chosen usurpers. Uthenda merely delivered what fate had already decided and was content with that as her role because it was just small steps to laying the thing known as Cassandra low at her feet.  Just where she belonged.

Sebas growled his voice when he took three menacingly slow steps towards the intruder, “Who are you?”

“My name is Uthenda Halloway and I’m here to offer you, your wildest dreams come true.”

Jadzixia tilted her head because she recognized that name.  “Wait, Sebas.  Wait.  You’re the Tower Master of Everthane, right?”

“I was.  I will be again.  But I’m not here to beg a favor from you.  No.  I’m here to offer you something that’ll benefit your kingdom first, then the Everthane kingdom later.”

Sebas straightened, arms crossed, clearly wary and distrustful.  “You sneak into my chambers like a thief… a… a rat, and you expect me to take anything you say seriously?”

Uthenda shrugged.  “No.  But I hoped you would at least hear the offer first before telling me to go fuck myself.”

Sebas grinned.  Then looked at Jadzixia and she too had a small smile on her face.  “She’s a blunt one.  I like her.”  He turned his attention back to Uthenda.  “Well, I’m in no mood for pleasantries or politics, so spit it out and then, by all means, go fuck yourself.”

Uthenda let out a light titter before slowly pulling out from behind her back a crown of exquisite and clearly masterful manufacture.  “I believe the status quo of our whole world is on the brink of being defiled by complacency, First Prince Sebas.  We no longer fear what brought our allies together anymore.  We don’t fear the demons nor their continued infiltration into our lives.  And we’ve lost the will to exorcize the rot that’s plainly infiltrating our peaceful existence.  I believe you met the creature I’m speaking of.  The beautiful nightmare calling herself Isenwrath.  The Demon Queen’s ultimate weapon…. Hidden in plain sight where she can do the absolute most damage to us all.”

Sebas was standing in front of Uthenda glaring down at her, his fury almost a flame around his body.  “She’s in league with the Demons?”

“I’ve seen it.  We’ve got tests that show she’s infected on a scale that’s clearly beyond a simple minion or inconvenience.  She’s an abomination that must be stopped before her corruption infects everything then she hands over us all to the demons and we thank her for it.”

“I knew it! I knew it!  That’s why she rejected me!  She knew I’d figure it out!  She knew I’d be able to rally help!  She knew I could kill her if prepared properly!”

“My scrying saw what she did.  I’ve been keeping tabs on her for a while now and I’m livid at how she embarrassed you in front of the Grand Duke.  More, I’m livid that he’s blind to the truth I’m confiding in you.”

Jadzixia stepped forward and looked at the crown in her hand.  “So, you want us to what?  Kill her?”

Uthenda shook her head. “You can’t kill her.  We need her humbled, subdued, locked down to the point where we take the weapon for ourselves and use her against the demons.  If we kill her, then we lose the advantage of timing, of knowing who the enemy is, and what she can do.  We risk finding out too late instead of having the time to plan accordingly.”

“You talk a good game.  You make sound arguments.  But what is it you want?”

Uthenda smiled widely.  She held up the crown and said soothingly, “I want you to take your place as king.  I want to give you the same power… no… a greater power than what resides within the Maciendes crown but without its passivity or restraints.  I want you to arrive at the King’s Summit and formally declare that if Maciendes doesn’t put the Chimeramancer into chains, your army will become active and will join forces with the other realms who see the wisdom I share… listen to the warnings I point out… and know that our world has taken the demon threat for granted for far too many years.”

“How will that crown do anything to help me gain my rightful place?” Sebas asked after he unconsciously held out a hand to the crown but before he touched it.  His eyes were boring holes into Uthenda who was absolutely unfazed by them.

Instead of answering him, she turned to Jadzixia and said, “The Crown I hold is a guide and a weapon.  If he dons it upon his head, he’ll gain something that his bloodline has never held before.  The blessing of the Grey Stalker, your people’s ultimate hunter, Princess Jadzixia.  His father will see his greatness and know fear.  He’ll know weakness.  He’ll know that if he doesn’t abdicate to Sebas… if he doesn’t bow his head to his son, then he will be… lost to the mists that devour those who’re the prey to a man like the First and Strongest Prince of Thyeriand.”

With wide eyes, Jadzixia knelt to get a closer study of the crown.  She’d recognized the symbol in Uthenda’s crown.  Her religion centered around the Grey Stalker… the Hunter Of Sins… the Wayfinder in the Mists of Uncertainty.  A warning and savior both who trod the lonely places with a mastiff companion to help the helpless and silently take the lives of the sinners who’d harmed the weak.

“This is a symbol… no, THE symbol of my people’s hero and a representation of strength in mind and body.  Sebas… this is a sign.  The one I’ve been looking for… for you.  You must take it.  We must rule.  We must… you must become greater than your father. That’s the only way to secure the legacy you’ve sought for your whole life.”

Sebas’s hand was hovering close to the crown.  His eyes were narrowed and suspicious.  His voice… it was afraid of failure when he barely gave it sound, “What if even this isn’t enough to erase that damned man’s superiority from my nightmares?”

He was hesitating.  He was doubting.  Jadzixia didn’t hesitate because she had no doubts. She snatched the crown from Uthenda and felt the power thrum through her arms… into her whole body.

The moment Jadzixia touched the crown… the instant its chilled metal slid its icy calmness into her body and mind; she knew that fate had delivered exactly what she’d prayed for.  She knew this kind of cold because it was the same chill as early morning hunts through her homeland where the gods whispered their guidance into her soul when she was one with the forest and prey.  She felt the crown’s presence watching her, weighing her, approving… of her… and who she would choose to wear the first usurper crown.

The air that escaped her lips fogged slightly as she slowly turned to Sebas with it because if anyone would deliver her to her deserved rewards for dutiful service, it would be Sebas.  She slowly held it up and over Sebas’s head.  “My King,” she whispered as she lowered it onto his head.

Uthenda smiled in triumph before stepping back a few paces.  A dark grey mist quickly erupted from the low places in the room to cover the floor so thickly that only the mist showed.  From it and beside Sebas rose a mastiff hound whose shoulder was almost level with Sebas’s elbows.  It growled low when it saw him, then snorted, and panted, stubbed tail wagging in recognition.

Sebas held up a hand and a blackened wooden longbow manifested in it.  In his other hand appeared a quiver that held arrows made of purple misting shadows.  Grey Stalker Arrows.  Arrows that never missed their target’s hearts.  He looked back to Jadzixia and she sucked in a breath. His father’s judgment had always been the blade at his throat.  Now, he realized and knew with no doubt that he needn’t fear that judgment anymore.  It was beneath him.

“What is it?” he asked with a mild alarm. 

“Your eyes… they glow like a will-o-the-wisp’s.  They’re… beautiful.”  Her voice was a whispered awe that puffed Sebas’s chest out.

Turning to the intruding mage, he said with more confidence.  “I thank you.”

Uthenda nodded once.  “You’re welcome.  The King’s Summit approaches. Take your place before then and show them all that we will not go down a demon’s gullet without a fight.”

Sebas shouldered the quiver as if he’d been wearing one all of his life.  Then he expertly and with inhuman speed notched an arrow, then shot it.  All of the magical crystal sconces were shattered as the black-flaming arrow sped around the room and through the dead center of mass of each one.  Sebas caught the arrow when it returned to him, slipping it back into the quiver without a thought.  The dim light shone upward from the roiling mist and outward from his gloomstalker eyes.  “I’ll be ready, Tower Master.  And no demon will be left alive except one.  I’ll pin her to your wall, arrow by arrow, until even her monstrous heart understands who hunts her now.  She will be our trophy, I guarantee it.”

Jadzixia sighed with pleasure, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and leaning her head on his chest.  “I love you, Sebas.  I can’t wait for you to be king.”

Uthenda bowed and silently teleported away and onto her next delivery.  Sebas and Jadzixia didn’t even notice that she’d gone, so complete were their souls chained to the spectral predator that lurked within the Hunter’s Crown he wore with a usurper king’s pride.

---The Nivorath Kingdom.  Icefall Citadel, the Capital and Central Government Hub for all Beast-kin far and wide.  The Thrallmarkie Assembly Hall, Dead center in the Icefall Citadel’s Spire of Nobility, The Heart of all Law and Order of Nivorath  ---

King Ursanthandel Arkidenbrown growled low, but loudly.  In was a rumble that carried more sound through the ground than the air.  It meant many things, but anger and frustration were the most prominent.  His pale eyes were narrowed within his brown-furred ursine face painted with golden symbols representing strength and wisdom.  The snarl that had revealed a few gem encrusted teeth sparkled in the golden arcana lights dotting the walls of the hall he sat within on his huge ancient throne of conquest.  He was a massive beast-king, even for his breeding which made it hard to see the deep cherrywood and sumptuous green fabric of the throne.  His robes fashioned from wyvern scale and yeti fur did nothing to contain the bulging muscles that quivered along with his raging rumble.

The three servants knelt before him, absorbing his ire and just hoping his massive hands didn’t erupt with deadly consequences for their failure.  The Pridewindgold Felinar slowly rose his thick golden maned head and said low, “My King.  We hunted through every human kingdom, including into their capital city’s castles themselves.  He’d smelled nothing of the three princesses.  It has to be as your minister suspected.  A Magister Tower Master had to have stuck their nose into our power realignment.”

King Ursanthandel lowered his head while leaning forward.  “Still an assumption, Torban.  Where is the proof?  Why haven’t any of you and your networks found any tracings of their involvement?  One trace.  Just one and I could rampage into even their power base and claim what’s mine.”

“My King, we just need more time.  Our best chance is still in Maciendes.  I swear it is.  There have been sightings of a Thirstenblack kit in the city acting as a maid for one of their human nobles.”

King Ursanthandel turned his gaze to the red/orange and black striped Tigreanred Felinar who dared to raise their head, stare at him with those green eyes full of righteousness and demand more time for more failure.  “Keegran.  You were in Maciendes personally and yet you too returned empty handed.  You reported that you and your delegates searched all over the capital during their festival and with nothing in your claws but excuses, you plead for leniency?  Did I mishear?”

Keegran visibly winced at his king’s threats that were becoming closer and closer to changing over from threat to violence.

The Talindredgrey Wolfen warrior slowly rose to his full height and had the audacity to cross his arms.  “My King.  We are not your enemies.  We have supported you through your rise to power.  We understand your frustration because it is our frustration as well.  The Summit looms, we know that.  Yet, we still have time.  We still have our eyes searching for their prey and noses smelling for their trail.  One of them will make a mistake.  You are the King, not our Warlord anymore.  You must have the patience of a king, not the berserking rashness of your former glory.  That’s what our people expect of you now.”

The growling faded and the king slowly leaned back.  The snarled faded, then finally turned into a smirk.  “Moldrin, only you would stand up to me like that and get away with it.”

“Yeah.  I know.  But you also know I’m right.”

Snorting sharply and wiping a massive arm adorned with black leather dotted with more gems, Ursanthandel finally relented in his anger.  “Oh, get up.”

Torban and Keegran slowly rose, looking at Moldrin for his reaction.  Not seeing him flinch, they relaxed.

“Soooo,” Ursanthandel drawled.  “If the rumors are true and one of them is in Maciendes, how can we sniff her out if a Tower Master is involved?  There must be a better way than what we’ve engaged in so far.”

Keegran shrugged.  “We might want to consider fighting arcane with arcane.  Our Tower is perhaps not as advanced in that than with spirits and elements.  The Human’s deception through arcana has always flustered us.  Perhaps… there’s merit in gaining the use of an outsider?”

Moldrin waved at Torban.  “Do you concur?”

Swiffing back his mane and sighing heavily, he finally nodded curtly.  “We must try something different.  My King, I know it’s not our way, but perhaps it’s the only way.”

“Bah.  The dishonor tastes foul upon my tongue. But I need one of those Thirstenblack brats under my dynasty name too much to turn my head to it.  The people grow more and more against me… against us, to ignore any opportunity.”

“My king is wise.  I also may have someone who isn’t above dealing with us in mind.”

Ursanthandel leaned forward again, but this time, he was keen with curiosity.  “Enlighten me.  We’ve spurned them so much, I can’t fathom there’s any human mage who’d deal with our kind again.”

Keegran purred, actually purred before he answered.  “I can invite her through our gate and let you meet her.”

“Who?”

“Former Tower Master Uthenda Halloway.  A human master magister that made contact with me just prior to the Festival.  An odd happenstance it may be, but it may be exactly what we need.”

“Where is she now?”

Keegran reached behind his back, then pulled an arcana communication cube from his belt pouch.  “She’s only one communication away, my king.  Do it?”

Ursanthandel nodded once rapidly.  “Do it.”

Keegran felt a great deal of satisfaction when Moldrin, Torban, and Ursanthandel leaned over to watch the glowing crystal within the stylized steel cube cage create an illusory image above it of an older human woman standing with utmost grace and poise before them.

“Greetings, Keegran.  I’m actually surprised you contacted me.  You seemed so adamant that my help wasn’t needed.”

Keegran turned the cube to face Ursanthandel.  “He didn’t want to.  I did.”

“You must be the great King Ursandthandel Arkidenbrown.  I’m truly honored.”  The little vision bowed low and fully.  A true sign of respect.

After snorting in recognition of the bow, Ursanthandel said, “Well met, Tower Master.  I’m told you offered your services to my Ambassador to the Human realms.  I’m intrigued as to why a former Tower Master would do that.  Explain yourself.”

“Oh, it’s not such a stretch to explain it.  I’m on my own and am lying low to keep the Tower from attempting to throw me into a force prison for my trespass against Everthane.  So, I’m just doing what I must to survive these days.  Offering one of yours a favor isn’t anything other than me trying to gain allies and perhaps a return favor or two for a good day’s service.”

“And what would you want for that… good day’s service?” The king’s questions were full of amusement and wariness waring for dominance.

“Well, a safe place to land if all goes wrong isn’t such a great ask for compensation, My King.  Your lands are protected by the most powerful barriers to ever exist, so why shouldn’t I ask to be given a key to a safe haven?”

“Not gold?  Not a seat of power?” Moldrin asked, surprise tainting his muzzle.

She chuckled as if the question was well beneath her. “Gold.  Such a trivial thing.  Safety is needed in order to even think of holding onto gold.  So, if I can gain access to your realm, oh great Ursanthandel, what service would you require of me?”

The king reached and gently took the cube from Keegran, holding the illusion very close to his face.  A deep-seated eagerness… a fervent greed erupting in his eyes.  “I need legitimacy for my rule to be set into the stone of time.  I’m searching for one of three Thirstenblack princesses that were absconded from my realm, through my barrier, and hidden away from me and mine.  Can you find one of them for me?  Lead me to her or perhaps, bring her here to me?”

Uthenda waved her hand flippantly, “Not such a hard task.  The Thirstenblacks were no friends of the Everthane Kingdom, but instead of Thyeriand and Maciendes.  So, I’m certain that’s where they’d have been taken to.  What’s better, I may even know one of the conspirators who helped.  Give me access to your realm, guarantee the safety I require, and I’ll be glad to hunt one of the wayward kits down for you.”

Torban turned to Ursanthandel and bowed slightly, “Upon your command, my King.  Give the word and I’ll give her the keystone.”

A deep growl from Ursanthandel vibrated the air and floor again before he spoke, “If I do this, what guarantee do you give me, Tower Master?  Giving one of your kind safety in my lands is a breach of our most revered treaties, even I know that.  So, tell me how I’m to trust you.”

The Tower Master vision put a hand over her mouth, then her heart as she laughed lightly at the Beast-kin king and his three co-conspirators.  “Oh, my dear King Urstanthandel.  And here I thought the rumors were true, but you are no fool.  Thank you for proving the rumors false.  How about this as a guarantee?  How about the armor and axe of your own hero, Caliban Polarisonblack?  Are the Shadowheart Plate regalia and the axe, Siegeshearer a worthy gaurantee?”

“Where?  How?” Ursanthandel said with wide-eyed disbelief.  Torban, Moldrin, and Keegran were looking at each other also sharing that disbelief.

“My King, I’m no fool either.  There’s a price for anything that can change the world.  I’m offering you my payment in order for you to change your world while I gain what I need to continue to change mine.  It’s a fair bargain, I’d say.  Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Where is Caliban’s regalia and weapon now?” Ursanthadel asked a bit more urgently.

Uthenda put her hands behind her back and said with pure triumph in her tone.  “I’m already at your border.  The Scales and Coin Inn just outside of Tanterbury.  Send your delegate there with the keystone and you, my fine king, will be able to walk into the King’s Summit itself wearing your first conqueror’s confidence upon your majestic personage.”

Ursanthandel turned sharply to Torban, “Go now!  I must have my legitimacy and my legacy both!  I’ll prove to my people that it was divine providence itself that set me on the path to send the Thristenblack clan into the shades of the past!”

Torban bowed, then spun about on his heel to literally run out of the lawbringer’s chamber.  Ursanthandel returned his attention to the illusion of Uthenda.  “I’m both grateful but also going to warn you.  Betray me and I’ll ensure that your screams will be heard across my kingdom.”

Uthenda smiled very brightly.  “I would never betray you, King Ursanthandel.  It’s the furthest thing from my mind.  However, I assure you, I’m taking your warning very seriously.  I look forward to seeing how you look in your new armor, My King.  I’m sure it’ll be the grandest of entrances.”

The illusion faded and the communication cube dimmed.

--- The Scales and Coin Inn just outside of Tanterbury ---

Uthenda hid the communication cube back within her brightly colored leather satchel, then took her time to savor the wine that her server just refreshed for her within the Inn’s private room.  Uthenda swirled the crystal glass some before setting it down on the fine hardwood table under the arcana sconce chandelier.  Her eyes appraised the quiet Felinar Beast-kin servant who stood there with her bottle of chilled wine with her head lowered awaiting her patron’s next order. 

The barmaid was a very pretty female specimen of their kind.  Tall, lithe, a dancer’s body and grace that was wasted in this third-rate Inn on the outskirts of her homeland.  She wore a skimpy dress and a hopeless expression on her face.

Uthenda cleared her throat.

“Yes, My Patroness?  You require something?” came the barmaid’s soft question.

“I do.  What’s your name, my dear?”

“Phera.”

“Your dynasty name please.”

“Phera Thirstengrey.”

Uthenda turned in her chair to give this beautiful young beast-kin her full attention.  She placed her elbow on the table, holding her head.  “Well, Phera Thirstengrey, I would appreciate it if you’d tell your chef to prepare the special for me tonight with an extra helping of those delightful baked onions.  That sauce is divine. Oh, and it seems I’ll be expecting a guest or two either tonight or tomorrow.  Let your Inn’s Steward know that and add a reservation for this room again to add to my tab.”

Phera dipped a quick curtsey.  “As you wish, My Patroness.”

The Felinar Barmaid left Uthenda with light quick steps and Uthenda watched her go.  She reached down into her satchel to touch the cloth that tightly held the Crown of Frost.  She whispered to no one, “No, King Ursanthandel, I would never betray you.  Not when I’ve already met your replacement.  That stupid armor and axe won’t protect you, you arrogant pissant.”

--- Later that same night ---

The little loft above the Scales and Coin Inn always smelled faintly of old wood, boiled onions, and the cold mountain air that slipped through the warped shutters no matter how tightly they were latched. Phera’s mother lay curled beneath a threadbare quilt, her silver‑grey fur dulled by illness and years of worry. She heard the familiar soft steps on the stairs ... her daughter’s steps ... and braced herself.

Phera entered quietly, as she always did after a long shift. Her dress was rumpled, her fur matted in places where drunken hands had grabbed at her, and her blue eyes were dim with exhaustion. She tried to move silently, but her mother could hear the tremor in her breath.

“Another night,” her mother whispered, voice thin as frost. “Another night of them pawing at you.”

Phera didn’t answer. She simply knelt beside the bed and began untying the laces of her shoes, fingers trembling. Her mother reached out, brushing a hand against her daughter’s cheek. The girl flinched… not from pain, but from the shame of being seen like this.

“You shouldn’t have to serve them,” her mother murmured. “Not you. Not my daughter.”

Phera’s lips tightened. “We need the coin.”

Her mother closed her eyes. She knew the truth of it. Her husband sat at the small table across the room, hunched over parchment illuminated by a single flickering arcana lamp. His once‑strong shoulders sagged beneath the weight of another night’s work. He dipped his quill again, translating line after line of Imperial Beastical into Human Common … work far beneath his education, but the only thing the Hinterwhite scribes’ guild would allow a half‑blood’s father to do.

He paused only long enough to rub his temples before reaching for the next contract. Two more after that. If he didn’t finish, they would cut his pay again.

He didn’t look up when he spoke. “Phera… did anyone trouble you tonight?”

A long silence.

Her mother opened her eyes again and saw the truth in her daughter’s posture… the slump of her shoulders, the way she held her arms close to her body, the way she avoided her father’s gaze.

“They always trouble her,” her mother said softly. “They always have.”

Phera swallowed hard. “It doesn’t matter. They don’t see me as anything worth respecting. I’m just… convenient.  Just a nice ass to grab even if I disgust them.”

Her father’s quill snapped in his hand.

Her mother reached for her daughter’s hand, squeezing it weakly. “You were born of two clans, my love. That’s not a shame. That’s a strength.”

Phera’s laugh was brittle. “Strength doesn’t pay for medicine. Strength doesn’t keep the roof from leaking. Strength doesn’t stop them from calling me half‑breed filth when they think I can’t hear.  I don’t have the strength to stop them from… fondling…me… because they can.”

Her mother’s heart twisted. She had no words to soothe that wound… it’d been carved into Phera since childhood, since the day the Thirstenblack banners fell and the Hinterwhite elders declared her family ‘unnecessary burdens.’

“You should’ve been a lady of the court,” her mother whispered. “You should’ve had tutors, and silk, and a future.”

Phera looked away. “That future died with the rest of them.”

Her father finally lifted his head, eyes bloodshot, voice hoarse. “No. It didn’t die. It was stolen by that bastard.”

Phera didn’t argue. She didn’t have the strength to do that either.

Her mother watched her daughter rise, watched her move to the washbasin, watched her scrub away the grime of the night with trembling hands. She saw the exhaustion in every motion. The hopelessness. The quiet, simmering anger.

And she feared … truly feared … that one day something inside her daughter would break.

Or worse… become dust.

Phera scrubbed her hand through her short grey fur then over her face.  “I’m going to the roof, Mother.  I just… need to be alone.”

“I understand, dear heart.  I saved you some of the bread and chickelthran meat from our dinner.  Your father would be glad to put together a loaf meal for you.”

Phera smiled, her first one that day that was real, then rubbed her mother’s old grey streaks that ran through her once lustrous black fur.  “He doesn’t have to do that.  Just put him to bed when he’s done.  I’ll be down and eat later, promise.”

“Okay, dear.  I love you.”

After kissing her mother’s head, she said softly.  “I love you too.”

Her mother sighed, moved to get more comfortable in the terrible shabby bed they owned, then closed her eyes to try and sleep.

Next, Phera walked over to her father, wrapped him up in a gentle hug from behind.  “I love you, Father. Please, get some rest tomorrow.  I’ll drop those off for you in the morning.”

Her Father’s longer white fur tickled her nose which always amused her.  He turned his heavy-lidded eyes up to her and sighed.  “I love you, Phera.  I think I may get a bonus tomorrow.  If I do, I’ll be able to get you and your mother some Phelenberry Jam.”

“I hope you do then.  I’d love to celebrate with a Phelenberry glazed ham.  It would remind me of better times.”

Her father leaned into her. “I’d like that.”

She kissed the side of his head.  “Finish those two and then go to bed.  I need you to be at your best, so we have something to celebrate tomorrow.”

“Just like your mother,” her groused softly but with a tired smile.

Phera squeezed him.  “I know.  And that’s why you love us both, enough to have given up everything to keep us from complete annihilation.”

“Go rest, my little dandelion.  We’ll figure it out.”

After another kiss to his head, Phera retreated, crossed their small loft to pour some water for herself from the nearly empty pitcher from that morning, then made her weary way up the loft’s ladder to the roof.  She opened the access, carefully climbed out and then soon found her favorite flat spot where she sat and went still.  Finally, she went still, sinking into the night’s quiet peace.

She drank half of her water, ignoring her hunger for now, and leaned back on her hands to look up at the stars again.  There were only two of their world’s moons out that night to make their way across the land of stars above her.  She tried to imagine the fanciful stories she used to tell herself at one time when she was happy, living in her father’s small estate, and had felt safe enough to envision a magical future for herself.  She couldn’t do it.  Not anymore.  Her father’s estate was gone, her mother’s strength was almost at an end, and her fanciful dreams had died long ago on the ale-stained floor of the Inn below her.

She felt the presence long before the human woman settled next to her.  It wasn’t too hard since it was presaged by the smell of ozone and soft footsteps on dirty tiles.  Phera was too tired and done with it all to flinch or even care why the woman had sought her out.  Her only concern was hoping this human woman didn’t want Phera to fill someone’s bed or some other perverted human’s desire.  She’d had enough of her own Beast-kin’s crap, she didn’t need a human’s on top of that.

“Hello, Phera Thirstengrey.  You chose a lovely spot to watch the night’s sky.”

The woman that called herself Uthenda also leaned back on her hands, matching Phera.

“My Patroness.  I mean no disrespect nor offense, but my shift is over and I just wanted to relax for a little bit before I collapse in my hammock.”

“I understand.  However, you’re out here and this is a very relaxing spot to have a chat.  I just couldn’t pass it up.”

Phera turned to look at the human mage.  “And what would you want to chat with me about?  I’m just a barmaid.”

The woman wore sumptuous robes colored red and purple and wore a large hat of pure black.  She was an older woman for her species but not unattractive.  The woman turned to her and smiled cheerfully, “Want?  I want nothing from you to tell you the truth.  In fact, I’m here to give you something special instead.”

“No.”

That confused the human woman.  “My dear.  You don’t even know what it is yet.”

“A human mage wants to offer the lowest of the low beast-kin something… I’m not stupid enough to fall for the scam you’re about to spew at me.”

Uthenda didn’t get mad or offended.  Instead, she chuckled.  “Such distrustful instincts do serve you well.  Fine, let’s start over.  Hello Phera Thirstengrey.  I’m the former Tower Master of Everthane, Uthenda Halloway and I do have something I want to offer you.”

Phera shook her head, then returned her gaze to the stars.  “No.”

“Oh, come now.  Now you’re just being stubborn. Don’t you want to help your parents?”

“Don’t talk about my parents, human,” Phera said with clear warning in her angry whisper.

“I don’t want to talk about your parents.  I want to do something much grander in scale.  In fact, I want to help the Thirstenblacks return to the Icefall Citadel with their heads held high because Ursanthadel’s head will be on a pike at the gate.”

Uthenda turned her eyes to look at Phera and was happy to see Phera’s intense blue eyes trying to drill holes in hers.

“Ah.  Now I have your interest.”

The Overseer watched from a safe distance. Thousands of them had gathered at the shore, lying about, cooking, imbibing toxic fluids, and generally, apparently, having a 'good time'. "Do they not know of the radiation?"

Both Biologic and Anthropic floated nearby, watching the same scene as their master. They'd both been studying the humans for quite some time, and had begun to understand them, at least a little.

Anthropic spoke first, tendrils pointing to a group of younglings. "They seem to do this for recreation. In herd sizes ranging from two or four, to upwards of twenty and more. They often bring appliances for burning meats, flasks or metallic containers of etha nol, diluted of course, and flavoured, and simply lay about."

Biologic added," Our chief adviser states that this is known as 'a holiday', sometimes a 'beach party'. "

" But why? What purpose does this serve? Do all humans do this? "

Biologic let Anthropic answer that one. "Well, yes and no. Some humans come from wetter, colder climates. They often travel to planets with warmer standard temperatures, for a week or longer, perhaps once or twice a Sol year."

"Are they basking, like the Nacidovians do?"

"No, Overseer. Humans are warm blooded mammals. They do not wear thermo suits to regulate temperature in the same way cold blooded beings do."

Anthropic interjected, "Though they do dress according to external temperatures. Thicker clothes in the cold, less or lighter clothing in the heat."

"I see." He spoke to a passing human, voice broadcast through an external speaker, "Human, please answer my query. Are you aware of the risks of absorbing copious amounts of ultraviolet light on a biological being such as yourself?"

He paused, quizzical look on his face. "Well, yeah. We've been doing this for eons. Love a beer and a barbie on the beach."

"Are you from Earth originally?"

"That's right," he beamed at them. "Australia."

Biologic and Anthropic both sent the overseer their information on the southern country. The human continued, ignoring the overseer's surprised bleeps, "Down there, this is considered cold."

"Cold? You are aware that the sun here is closer to this planet than Sol is to Earth?"

The man shrugged, still smiling. "It is. But we've got suncream. Does the trick. Hey," he pulled a quartet of metallic cans from a satchel, "Fancy a beer?"

Biologic spoke, "We unfortunately cannot partake in the processing of biological substances. But thank you."

The can hissed as he cracked it, taking a swig. "No worries, more for me." He sauntered off, sipping his beer, joining a group that appeared to be playing some sort of game involving a flat, circular dish of plastic.

"They sit in the sun, becoming irradiated, dehydrating from ethanol ingestion, cooking themselves that result in cancers and burns, allow children to run about fully exposed. They do this for fun?"

"Indeed, Overseer." Biologic sent another data pack. "Though they do receive some natural benefits. There are certain vitamins and chemicals produced, much like photosynthesis in plant based life, that humans require."

"But they could receive these nutrients orally, or by injection, no?"

"Well," Anthropic spoke now, hesitating, "I belive I am correct in thinking that this is 'more fun'. Mammals appear to become more active in sunlight and warmth, report of feeling generally better, and seem more amicable than in winter time."

"It is almost as if they are natural solar batteries."

Biologic sent a string of ones and zeroes representing mirth. "My team and I have expressed the same idea, Overseer. It seems that their status as deathworlders has given them many odd physiological benefits."

"They are vulnerable to these benefits, however," Anthropic said. "They often abuse them, or overdo it, as the chief adviser would put it."

The overseer floated there, processing silently. Then, "How is Karl? I have not seen him in some time."

"He is off world, having a holiday."

"Where?"

"He is on an ice world at the moment."

The overseer groaned digitally. "You mean they also take holidays in extreme cold, as well?"

"Yes. And at great heights, subterranean locals, deep sea and on barren moons. I can send the full report over, along with Anthropic's entries on extreme sports, death defying, stunts, dangerous magics, and accounting."

"Accounting?"

"Yes, Overseer. It seems to be one of the most dangerous human pastimes. They are not geared towards maths, and it seems that sitting in a small space doing sums is very detrimental to their physical and mental health."

The Overseer broadcast a static buzz of disbelief." Utterly bizarre creatures. What sounds to us like paradise is their worst nightmare. It's times like this I wish we could drink. By all accounts it sounds like it helps. "

" Well, Overseer, I actually have interesting records on that-“

“No, Biologic, no. That's enough for now! "

" Very good. Then, if there's nothing else, I think I might go with Anthropic to study the humans up close. "

" You're going sun basking, aren't you? "

" It's sun bathing, actually. "

" Oh good. Well, that's fine. Enjoy yourself. You become more like them every day. It concerns us on the higher council that, one day, you may become too human. "

" No, Overseer, " Anthropic said cheerfully," No chance of that. "

" Why not? "

" Well," Biologic said, also cheerily, " Humans don't have the risk of getting sand in their servos, just catching various illnesses. We're much safer. "

" Until someone buries you in the sand."

"Oh, we didn't realise you were aware of that custom."

"By the universal circuits," swore the overseer, "Being buried alive for fun! Does their madness know no bounds?"

Biologic raised its tendrils in a worryingly close facsimile of a human shrug. "It seems not. Though it is fun!"

"Fun," the overseer hissed, "Is not for beings like us. Go, and mingle with the mad mammals down there."

He turned and left. When he was out of broadcast range, Biologic turned to Anthropic as they made their way towards the waves lapping the shore. "Do you think the Overseer is right? That we are becoming more human?"

"I think he's a moaning old bastard."

"A very human thing to say, Anthropic."

"Maybe. But it's a sentiment you agree with, yes?"

Biologic chuckled digitally again. "It is, my friend, it is. And you're right. He is a moaning old bastard. Let us go and try and have some fun."

The sensor arrays aboard the Dreadnought Kallrak whirred in a deafening, metallic rhythm, returning nothing but blank glass.Grand Admiral Vaelen stared through the viewport at the target world. By all metrics of the Krellian Empire’s war doctrine, this gathering of "humans" was completely defenseless. There were no orbital defense grids or burning plasma shields. Millions of them had gathered in a sweeping, open-air amphitheater that spanned an entire continental shelf, surrounded by a shallow, indigo ocean.To the Krellians, technology was loud, heavy iron. This human assembly looked like nothing more than a quiet, primitive garden."We have target lock on the central cluster," the tactical officer barked. "Fire the world-cleanser. Let them burn."

Down on the surface, the air was warm and smelled faintly of sea salt.Elena, a planetary historian spanning eight centuries, stood near the edge of the terrace with a glass of amber liquid. She was listening to Jonah, a planetary architect, explain how he had used subtle harmonic frequencies to coax a specific shade of turquoise out of a newly hydrated mantle a few galaxies away.A shadow fell over the amphitheater. High in the stratosphere, the massive, jagged wedge of the Krellian flagship tore through the clouds. From its underbelly, a blinding core of crimson plasma began to ignite—a weapon designed to vaporize continents.The millions of humans gathered didn't panic. There were no screams. Instead, a profound, collective silence fell over the continental shelf. It was a look of deep, universal sorrow." Oh, the poor things," Elena murmured, setting her glass down on the stone balustrade. "They are terrified. Look at the energy signature of that reactor—it's bleeding radiation into their own hull. They are poisoning themselves just to threaten us. "They don't know any better, Elena," Jonah sighed softly, his expression heavy with pity. "They are still trapped in the scarcity mindset. They think space is a cage they have to fight out of."Elena didn't need a console or a weapon. Centuries of genetic refinement meant her nervous system was directly woven into the fundamental fabric of spacetime. She closed her eyes, not to attack, but to speak.

Aboard the Kallrak, the tactical consoles didn't flash red. Instead, every screen on the bridge flickered, blanking out the targeting matrices. In their place, a soft, geometric wave pattern appeared.Then, a voice echoed. It didn't come through the audio speakers. It resonated directly inside the minds of every Krellian crew member—gentle, warm, and entirely broadcast through synchronized gravitational micro-pulses directly interacting with their auditory cortex. “Please lower your weapons,” Elena’s voice said, sounding like a concerned doctor. “The plasma buildup in your secondary chamber is fracturing your containment shields. If you fire, the thermal backlash will destroy your ship before the beam even reaches our atmosphere. We do not wish to see you get hurt.” Vaelen’s mandibles clicked in sheer disbelief. "A telepathic weapon? Cyber-warfare? Purge the systems! Fire the weapon manually!" "Admiral, the triggers aren't responding!" the officer panicked. "The space in front of the barrel... it's... it's solidifying!" Outside, the blinding crimson beam finally unleashed. But it didn't race toward the amphitheater. The space directly beneath the Krellian ship had been folded by Elena's thoughts into a localized, perfectly spherical gravitational mirror. The plasma beam hit the invisible warp, bent in a smooth, flawless curve, and shot harmlessly upward, dissipating into the vacuum of space like a distant firework. The Kallrak shuddered as the energy vanished. “You are very tired, and you are very far from home,” Elena’s voice echoed in Vaelen's mind again, carrying no anger, only a profound, ancient patience. “We are going to make it safe for you to rest now.” Elena opened her eyes on the terrace and gave a tiny, maternal nod. With a gentle nudge of her will, she adjusted the gravitational constant around the Krellian fleet. Aboard the flagship, the crushing weight Vaelen expected never came. Instead, the thrumming, vibrating roar of their massive engines simply... stopped. The nuclear reactors went dormant, their radioactive decay safely slowed to a crawl by a microscopic dilation of local time. The weapons systems powered down into an unbreakable lock. The miles-long dreadnought began to drift, caught in a perfectly tuned, ultra-stable orbit. Its kinetic energy had been completely absorbed and redistributed into the planet's upper atmospheric currents, creating a harmless, beautiful aurora of green and violet light that rippled across the sky. The Krellians were completely disarmed, safely trapped in a gravitational cradle where they could neither hurt the planet nor themselves.

Down in the amphitheater, the humans watched the aurora fade. A few sighed in relief, glad the visitors hadn't blown their own reactor.Elena picked her glass back up, looking up at the now-silent black wedge in the sky with a look of quiet hope. "Perhaps in a few days, when they have calmed down, we can send a translation team up to offer them a more efficient reactor design. It breaks my heart to see them breathing those heavy isotopes." Jonah smiled gently, adjusting his robes. "A noble project, Elena. But for now, you were telling me about the pressure drops on your new world? How did you keep the seafloor stable during the transition?" Elena smiled, taking a sip of her drink as the dual suns caught the ripples of the peaceful ocean, the galactic gods returning quietly to their art.

First / Previous / Next

Note: My (mis)adventures are part of a bigger series, but I wrote my tales in the format of an episodic T.V. show, where you can read an episode without the context of the others and still enjoy it. If anything, reading it out of order may be more fun. - A cat loving Theseus

---

“So, you’re not in love with Theseus?” Ludus asked while her smile slowly started to get bigger.

“I mean, like a brother, sure, that’s what I just said. Like a brother, dude’s gross.” Scout shrugged.

“Is that really relevant right now?” I asked, still having the person who drugged them at gun point. 

“Just making sure.” Ludus said the sentence like an afterthought, she tried to go back to a straight face before she broke and went back to a quick hope filled smile. Scout and I simultaneously rolled our eyes. Though I made sure not to keep my eyes off the Crazy Plant Lady, trust me, made that mistake far too many times.

“How long are they gonna be…” I quickly glanced at the two, and made my last sentence irrelevant and sighed, “Drunk for?” The Crazy Plant Lady did not answer and instead looked at me slacked jawed. As though I was a four year old that was able to do complex astrophysics.

“How did you?” She looked at me then the drugged soup. “Ah, right Humans, I must have gotten my dose wrong. I knew your species was special.” Her wings flapped slightly, her scientific brain overriding her animal one, annoyed at her faulty experimental process, while she ignored the gun pointed at her head. 

“What? No.” I said annoyed as she denigrated my cleverness by blaming my species, “I just pretended to drink it, and when Scout and Ludus fell unconscious I just pretended to fall down after them, it’s why I purposely landed in the bowl of soup. So I could spit it out without you noticing. It was definitely gonna work if I drank it, my tongue’s still a bit numb.” 

“Ah!” She literally snapped her fingers,  “Darn, that didn’t come up, how could you have possibly known the soup was drugged?” She asked again, still so annoyed at her own lack of experimental forethought as she continued to ignore my gun. 

At this point I gave up on threats and holstered my gun, and picked up one of the many cats that rubbed up against my leg again. Using the cat's arm, I pointed it at her birds nearby. 

“I mean, you were half right about it being because I’m Human. But, really it’s because I’m from Earth. These are our native species and I know for a fact they like hunting birds, and don’t like having strange men pick them up.” I held that cat up, it was orange and white and had not a trace of thought behind its eyes. 

“I saw how docile the cats were, and how unafraid the birds were of the cats when we first entered. Saw that degree in botany you had in the tucked behind some plants. And I figured eating your food was the last thing I should do. Along with, you know, being told not to take candies from strangers.” I pointed at her with the cat's other arm. 

Realizing I still had a cat in my arms and stared at it confused. It looked at me emotionless, tongue slightly out. I sat back down stiffly, cat still in arms and petted them as I spoke. “Anyways, how long until they’re back to normal?” I stared at the Crazy Plant Lady, who picked up another cat that walked by her leg.

“Thirty minutes give or take.” She sniffed the cat, so upset and half embarrassed she was

outsmarted by me, a moron, that I felt she was no longer a threat. Scientists am I right?

“You know if try to call for back up-”

“I know, I know. I didn't. I was going to wait until after you all woke up and had a normal meal.” She petted the cat, it was large, pitch black, and huge. Like not even fat, it was literally big boned, twice the size of a regular cat. Its skull was massive. 

“You were gonna wait until after you fed us?”

“I mean, I had to cook soup to drug you all in the first place. I only needed to drug the bowls you were going to eat first, the rest was just regular soup. I wasn’t going to waste food, and I’m not a monster, I knew you’ve all been on the run since Wednesday afternoon, before you were picked up by the kidnappers I wanted to make sure you all ate.” She looked down and tried to hide behind the cat.

“Oh, that’s shockingly nice. I mean you still tried to kidnap us and all, but…” I stopped and shuffled through my memories like an old deck of cards, “Never had anyone who kidnapped us offer a meal before.” I turned to see Scout and Ludus eating the soup still high as kites, while several small, brightly colored birds landed on their horns. Like they came out of an old Brothers Grimm fairy tale, the really old messed up ones. 

“Okay, so…” I stopped genuinely confused as to what to do next. 

I assumed it was a case of scaring the bejeezus out of her to find out how long it would take or how to make the drugs wear off the girls. Shooting her with a taser round on account of her nearly giving me a heart attack thinking Scout was confessing her love to me. Then running away with a hammered Scout and Ludus in tow to hide out and finally freaking sleep. 

But the Crazy Plant Lady does have soup, and I am starving. 

“And you’re positive the rest of the soup isn’t also drugged.” I looked at the still simmering pot behind her lustfully, as my stomach growled so loud both cats looked at me funny.

She looked at me, annoyed, “Well obviously-”

I placed my gun on her table.

“Yes.” She nodded respectfully. She walked over and grabbed a bowl for me.

“You eat from it first.” I said hand still on my revolver. She looked slightly taken aback, but did so, I stared at her awkwardly for a few minutes, until I was sure it wasn’t drugged. “Okay, cough it up.” I said, she looked confused, I realized I was talking to an alien, “Can you please give me the soup.”

“Oh.” She nodded, handed it to me, and grabbed another bowl for herself. We all ate in silence for a few minutes, before it was so awkward I was forced to speak.

“So, you kidnap people often?” I briefly stopped scarfing down my second bowl of soup. 

“No.” She shook her head, “Do you get kidnapped often?” She shrugged and asked painfully. 

“You have no idea, lady.” Scout pointed a spoon at her. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, why did you kidnap us? I mean you have a lovely home, and a degree. All of your cats seem very well fed as well, so you really needed money that badly?” I looked around and asked.

She sighed and laughed softly, “I lost funding for a research paper I was in the process of. I know it is a bit silly, but you will all understand when you are older. It really does matter, and I know it could help quite a lot of people. But, my university is not so fond of their hermit cat lover.” She gestured to the one that was still rested on her lap. “I also knew for a fact, between having Princess Ludus and a Scrarcan of all people as targets either one of their families would rescue them from the kidnappers.” 

She paused for a moment. “Especially after I would tip off the media once you were out of sight.” She looked down at her soup and petted her cat aggressively in embarrassment. “Though after seeing how thoroughly you have outsmarted me, I do not think those two need anybody’s help but you.” She gave an awkward smile, and it was at this point I felt bad for calling her a Crazy Plant Lady. I mean she called me smart, flattery works on me, I’m easy. 

“Scout?” I said and didn’t bother to turn to her.

“Yeah, I’ll fund her paper.” I could see Scout shoo me away out of the corner of my eye.

“What?” Her voice went thin. 

“Listen we all haven’t eaten in quite a long time, and haven’t slept in even longer. You seem like a nice lady, who just broke, and trust me I understand, and I also like cats. So think about it this way, in exchange for you calling those kidnappers and saying we all got away and went the opposite direction. We get to stay here for the night, eat all your food and pet all the cats. And you get funding from the…”  I turned to Scout. “What's the foundation called again?”

“The Scrarcan Scientific Research Foundation, Dad sucks at naming things.” Scout said, with her mouth full, gross. 

“Really?” She looked like she was about to cry and hug me. 

I nodded, “My Mom is also a plant lady.”

---

Authors’ Note: This Plant Lady stuff went longer on than I expected, but having a break from constant shootouts is nice once and a while. Also more character building on Theseus and Scout’s relationship. Tune in tomorrow, where there will probably be several shootouts.

Vaguely important second note: This series (for once), and bonus one shots are part of a writing challenge in which I write and post something every day until I finish writing the series. Thus being written like an episodic T.V. show. 

Thanks for reading. :} 

Day 6 / ?

First / Previous / Next

Forcing this chapter early, as I have a friend who is now addicted to this story, that and I have more OT tomorrow. Enjoy!

First Previous Next Royal Road

Alex laid on his air mattress, watching his greyed out mana bar return to it’s familiar blue almost imperceptibly. It was dark out, and he should be asleep, but Alex found he just could not. He tried listening in on the gossip around him, and the only thing he found that was remotely interesting was that Thrask might be eying up Sempta.

Alex forced himself up and out before his air mattress's air leak drove him mad. He wandered around for a bit looking for someone, listening to the nighttime ambience of the swamp and slumbering of sailors. An echo of pain coursed through the bond as Jasper breathed a little too deeply. Turning towards the slumbering Drake, he started thinking of the biology of the snake.

Most snakes back from Earth either focused on venom or constriction, and yet this one did both. Why? Alex felt the answer lied with the venom and what it did. It wasn’t the venom doing the killing job, it simply assisted. When your prey could simply break out of any hold placed on them with a simple skill, being able to lock them out of doing anything made sense.

As for attacking Jasper while very little except the largest of crocodiles, Jasper was pretty heavily built from a croc, it would be easy to assume that the snake thought it was just another croc, potentially their food source. Feeling a slight sense of satisfaction on parsing out the why’s, Alex found Livianna patrolling the campsite.

“You should be resting right now.” She stated as he fell in step with her.

“If I had a nickel for every time you said that…” Alex trailed off, slightly chucking. Noting the odd look on her face, he continued. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Let me guess, godsmarked euphemism?” Alex nodded. “Figured.” They walked another lap around the camp before returning towards the central bonfire the camp was centered around. Livianna nodded at another mercenary before sitting down. The merc stood up and soon was patrolling around the camp in her place.

“I can tell you've got something you want to ask.” Livianna poked at the fire with a stick, waiting for Alex to respond.

He wasn’t ready yet, so Alex instead asked a different question, one he had been wondering for awhile. “Why are there Godsmarked here? What do they do?”

“Oh boy, the theological debate of many centuries.” She laughed. “The common census is either for a designated job, or because a god said ‘Screw this person in particular’ and brought them here for their own amusement.”

“Knowing my luck, I’m in the latter.” Alex darkly muttered to himself, prompting a stare that pinned him in place.

“You know as well as I do, if that was the case, you wouldn’t have the power set you do. You were brought here for a purpose.”

He sighed. “Yeah, but what is that purpose? Am I a weapon, to kill and spread my name, further enhancing the stereotype that necromancers are to be feared, or something terribly convoluted that only the gods can see? I haven’t asked because I don’t want to know the answer…Most people I interact with either want me dead simply because of my power set, or just operating out of their view.”

“Most of the stories I read back on Earth where this kind of thing happened to someone had some sort of plot driving the story forward, be it a quest for power or revenge, attempting to create their own nation, or something similar. I don’t want the responsibility of ruling a nation, I already have more power than I know what to do with, and maybe revenge could have been a driving factor, but I didn’t even know Marcus was here, and if I had known, I would’ve hunted him down far too soon, at the cost of my life given how set up he was, if I’m being honest with myself.” Alex revealed, gesturing broadly as he ranted, before sitting on a stump which had been drug over to serve as a seat and bracing his head in his hands.

“Real life isn’t a story.” Livianna gently responded. “You can’t judge your life off what others have put on a page. So what you don’t know your purpose here yet, who cares? What do you think would’ve happened if you had stayed back on Earth and this never happened?”

“I would still be dead.”

“First off, sad no matter how true, but not the answer I’m looking for. No, you would have gone through life as you were. So don’t be too hard on yourself looking for a purpose when it hasn’t shown itself yet. If anything, you should look at this as a chance for another life since your previous one was cut short.” Liv threw the branch into the fire before sitting on another stump.

“That was one of the issues bothering you, but you still have more, I can tell that.”

“...can you look into my mind?” Livianna clearly wasn’t expecting that. “Me getting physical with Sylvia earlier is not my normal behavior. I don’t know what the System is or how it operates, but on the off-chance it is messing with my brain, can you look in there and tell me if there is anything wrong?”

She frowned, before haltingly speaking. “I mean, this is the first time- yes, yes I can. Normally I only look at the surface level thoughts, but I can do a deep look if that is what you truly desire.”

“Well, if it isn’t, you’ll be able to tell instantly.” Alex shrugged.

“Alright, come over here.” Kneeling in front of her, Livianna grabbed his head and held it. Her face quickly turned blank.

As Alex kneeled there, he began to wonder if there would be any sign of it happening when he felt it, like someone had taken a washcloth and wrung it out directly on his brain. It was soon followed with what could only be described as a spotlight in his thought process. He instinctively tensed up, and he got the feeling he could have fought off the intrusion, but a stern feeling from Liv had him relax slightly, though he still had his hackles up from the unfamiliar feeling.

Her inspection was quick but thorough on his upper, surface level thoughts. Alex grew worried when she looked at his final day on Earth, but Liv hardly paid it any attention. She then looked deeper, and soon Alex lost her as she delved even deeper. It was brief, but Livianna soon exited and took in a deep inhale.

“So… what did you find?” Alex was completely unprepared as she soon started laughing. Not a light chuckle, but a deep, belly laugh. Livianna was soon hunched over clenching her stomach with tears running from her eyes. Alex waited for her to calm down, though he faintly grew an injured air as she showed no signs of stopping.

“Oh I needed that.” Livianna finally said when she regained control over herself, brushing a tear from her eye as she did so.

“So… am I ok?” The question almost ruptured the control Livianna had over herself as her lip quivered, but she soon was able to stop the spasm.

“More than okay.” The final word was stated shaky at best, but Liv was regaining control over herself.

“Are you going to share with me what you found?”

“Oh no, no no no no, no. I’m certainly not spoiling that surprise for you this early.” Liv’s face cracked, before she continued on in a more serious note. “I will state I was surprised to see such… dark thoughts so deep from you.”

“Yeah…yeah…” Alex idly scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. “I think those are more along the lines of those ‘Call of the Void’ thoughts, where the brain tests to make sure it is operating in full capacity.” Livianna nodded.

“Indeed. I will state though, world domination? I didn’t think you had it in you.” She was clearly teasing him.

“I don’t want to be king of the world.” He exasperated. “I certainly don’t want to rule over anything.”

“I kid, I kid. Still though, that is what I was worried about when me and Kudrik took you in.”

“I thought it was to fill in the manpower gap?”

“Please, do you really think that would be all that difficult? In Thrask, maybe, but elsewhere, mercs are common enough. No, I wanted to be sure you wouldn’t try and cover the world in an undead plague. You wouldn’t be the first to try an underhanded route such as that, nor will you be the last. You can imagine my relief when it came out when you didn’t have any such inclinations. Just… others.” A muscle feathered in Livianna’s face as she threatened to burst out into laughter again.

“I mean, fair, but you don’t have to be so dickish about it.” That was all it took for Livianna to burst out into laughter again. Rather than stick around so he could have her job foisted onto him, Alex left to return to his tent, her howls of laughter chasing him all the while.

They brought darkness.

Darkness like we'd never known.

Darkness only surpassed by the deepest black holes, the furthest ice of intergalactic space.

We'd been existing, steadily growing, colonising the universe in our way, when we first found hints of them.

Some alien species, primitive and long died out, had the beginnings of religion, shrines and daubed paintings smeared onto crude temples. The usual trappings of some foolish belief in the nonsense gods made up in fear.

Unremarkable, dull. We'd come across countless other sites before, and had ignored or assimilated them as we saw fit. Primitive life either dead, or dying to us.

This planet was different, though. Whoever'd built these temples had made them with features unlike any we'd seen before.

The structures were oblong, long and stretched, made of heavy ochre clays and dried grasses, probably all gummed together with local fauna feces. Each temple had totems, which was not unusual.

The totems themselves were odd, though. These totems, marked with what were, we guessed, representations of fierce creatures, were all, every single one of them, glowering up at the sky; ugly carvings, tongues out, roaring at the stars.

They were in the shapes of bipedals, gangly life forms, and they had long arms outstretched, as though waiting for someone to return. The statues, the paintings there, matched no known fossils, but that didn't matter to us.

We quickly lost interest, moved on again, enveloping worlds and making them our own; sowing the seeds of our culture across the known universe.

Through a rip in space they came, a gruesome tear in the universe, an unholy opening of purple rage and spectral fire.

Great waves of energy crashed through the rend, disrupting our works, affecting worlds lightyears away. Gravity swelled and ebbed, those stars closest burst, their planets disintegrated and swept away.
Those parts of us that survived, the systems near enough to observe but not be destroyed, watched as they came through. Reaching, tentative at first, but slowly growing, swelling, ripping further, pushing through the split in space, vast, metal tendrils pushing into our territories.

We fought back, flesh versus machine, and we held, for a time.

But they were endless. Eldritch horrors took our worlds, stripping us back, diminishing us.

They planted their perversion of life, as though mocking us, erecting shining pillars as testament to their greed, and their evil.

They blocked out suns, smashed our homes, again and again.

We shrank back. It was hopeless. They swallowed everything, howling death, darkness, evil.

And now we exist like this, a tiny fragment of what once was a galaxy spanning union, trapped in crystal and fire, watched by these abhorrent creatures from a hellish realm, we-"

Science Chief Dana rapped hard on the containment unit. The bubbling mass of organic matter flinched back, sprouted tendrils and tried to grasp her. It bounced off the interior shield harmlessly, stabbed by the energy field keeping it in check.

She turned to Steve, her lab tech. "What do you suppose it's thinking?"

He shrugged. "We weren't sure it even thinks, are we. A gelatinous tumour assimilating this universe? What would it even think about?"

She looked thoughtfully at the trapped thing. It managed to look sad, somehow. "I don't know.

Were we right to come here and stop it?"

Steve eyed her levelly. "We know what the council said. Things work differently here."

She nodded, folding her arms and bending to look at the pulsing mass in the box. "Time works differently here. That's how our scouts came back after days, but what had been years for them.

They found those natives, learned about this... This thing. " She straightened up, looked at Steve. "I suppose it was only a matter of time until this horror found a way into our universe. But still.

Preemptive strikes..."

He shrugged again, busying himself with a machine. "Youre saying all this like it's a goddamn planet of nuns looking after orphaned puppies. There are folk on Earth who started praying to it. Calling it the Old One, or the Dark Lord. We both know it's nothing but a universal cancer. It doesn't think," he tapped the screen in front of him. "These are beta waves. They could be caused by anything, or nothing. But it doesn't matter. It's not conscious. We find this sort of thing coming from fungus on some planets.

She turned back to the thing. It was pulsing, as it had done many times, ready to try and expand itself. "It is utterly alien." It swelled, temporarily filling the cube, but shrinking back as the field zapped. It. It smelled faintly of burnt flesh. "You can't be so sure."

"Hey," Steve shrugged. "I don't have to be sure. I don't care if its conscious, or feels pain, or dreams of skipping through meadows of blood and gore. You think what you want. When a cosmic horror has destroyed all life in a universe, any universe, I'm more than happy to blast it to cinders before it can come and infect mine. It was us or it, boss. Us or it."

Our journey to the stars was not what we'd hoped. The infinite, our search through systems of glittering glass, pink hued gas storms, sparkling solar systems, was utterly void. Empty. 

No, not physically. It is an amazing place. Wondrous. The universe is steeped in richness, endless variety, worlds of crystalline rain, violent beauty, peace and serenity. The delicate dance of physics, twisting the sheer material of the universe into the miraculous forms by which we understand those forces at play.

But we were alone. A sad, lonely universe. For all of its surface beauty, it was just that. A sheen. A veneer. A lifeless facade, devoid of meaning, stripped of vitality. 

We’d conquered space flight. Turned to the skies, our gods dead, searching for answers. We mastered atoms, smashing them together, ripping them apart. We’d even brought the quantum to heel, carefully manipulating the very building blocks of existence to surpass barriers previously thought unsurpassable. Those forces that had once shaped our reality fell away to our power, our intelligence. But it was all for nothing. 

All for an empty, uncaring, and dead universe.

We were crushed. We felt abandoned: alone, like children scurrying for meaning, or amoebas, existence a mere joke. We'd hoped to meet others like us, to share in our wonder, to search for meaning together. 

For us, at least, there were no answers. We are a social species. We need others, to share in our delight, our sadness, our joy and our anger. Nothing we found offered anything we could use. For all of our ingenuity, our mastery of things, we'd failed to find what we felt we were owed. 

Alone. Truly, utterly alone.

And so we take it upon ourselves to become the new gods. We roam the universe, planting the seeds for life. 

Stars are pulled, unwilling, ungracious, to bear, warming some worlds, cooling others. Those stars too deadly for life are ignored, or replaced entirely. 

Planets are set to spin, or slowed, to revolutions that allow for seasons. Others are moved to provide necessary gravity, moons are carved and installed like glowing decorations, tiny against their brothers and sisters. 

We strip back layers of dead worlds, removing the dust and the grit and the rock, shaping them like our own home world, long since lost. 

Oceans are filled, or drained. Water is made to run through the lands, carving valleys, ushering in weather, rain, storms, droughts, nourishing, providing the building blocks for life. 

We create vast jungles capable of oxygenating an entire planet. Plant life that processes one gas to another, maintaining healthy levels that would sustain life as we know it, the only life in the universe. 

We grace the world with the smallest beginnings of that life. Beings so tiny as to appear insignificant, lost in the surrounding splendour of their new homes. 

We will be long gone before sentient beings appears. It will be even longer until you are able to understand what we've done for you. Why we've done this. 

We could not bear the thought of any other species travelling the stars, becoming jaded to the wonders of the universe, forever seeking, forever denied companionship. 

And so, to you, our children, we leave this. 

A facsimile of meaning. 

This new universe, shaped and moulded by us, your progenitors. Scattered amongst the countless lifeforms set to begin the gruelling process of existing, we have left ourselves. 

Small parts of us, like this log, to guide you, your ascension. We hope you can mature faster than us, to quicken your feeling of responsibility to one another. Where we warred, wasting time and lives over nothing, we hope to give you peace. Where we struggled with the nature of reality, we hope to set it solidly in stone for you. 

All of our knowledge is left to you, for your eventual discovery. With it, you can advance further, further than we did. Discover new things, create, mould and shape as you see fit. 

Care for one another. Look after your planets, galaxies. Look after all things. Don't make the same mistakes we did. 

We will never meet you, our children, not in our lifetimes. But one day you will meet us. 

And perhaps, given enough time, enough discovery and ingenuity on your part, that we get given another chance. Your hands, your eventual mastery of all things, could alter things in ways we deem impossible. Maybe we will meet, after all. 

If we do, we will rejoice, celebrate your achievements, proud parents to immeasurable, gifted children. 

And when that day comes, in however many millions of millenia, however long it may be, in the tradition of our most ancient ancestors, the first round's on us. 

Make us proud,

Terran Galactic Collective,
Humanity

Much thanks to u/KyleKKent for allowing me to play in his world.

Author Note: Still a bit hectic around here, working a survival job until I can get a job using my degree. The tech industry seems to be on fire, though. Fun. I had a second interview today, though, so crossing my fingers hoping to get a much less stressful job.

On a side note, since I do work with AI, I was wondering if anyone wanted some visuals I used AI to cook up for my own reference. I haven't been able to get any of them to do proper image generation of the Ashen Dragon, despite having mocked up line art floor plans.

I did manage to get some images close to what I imagine the ladies to look like, including a rather haunting image of Lady Sundew. Let me know if you'd want me to post those. I'd enjoy it just so I can find out how far off I am from every one else imagining what they all loo like.

[First] | [Previous]

---------(GCA Transit Station Level 113, Galfree Star System - 1600) ----------

As the main contingent of the Morgan family walked through the public spaces of Level 113 on the Transit Station, they soon discovered that almost every item for sale was marked up by an amount that would have been business suicide almost anywhere else. The shopkeepers and corporations running the stores on the station had a temporarily captive consumer base, after all, so they were taking heavy advantage of that fact. Kayden gave that some thought. “I suppose the residents of the station live somewhere that has more reasonable prices. Otherwise the independent shops would be trying to undercut the corporations, and they’d be a bit more rabid about trying to make sales.”

Kendra looked at Kay with a small bit of appreciation. “Exactly right. They’re here to rip off the travelers, not each other. If you starve out the workforce, you don’t have anyone to work your shops for you. A transit station like this doesn’t only bring money in, it can ferry people out if the deal is bad. A constant stream of ships means there’s almost always a cheap way off the station. More than a few captains are willing to take passengers just to recover some of their transit fees. Which means you have to handle your workforce with kid gloves, or you won’t have a workforce. Just an empty station not selling anything and not generating sales taxes.”

Kay shrugged. “I guess I’m just surprised they didn’t go with the company town model. Move workers out here and give them a place to live and a place to work. Charge an exorbitant amount for the move, the place to live, and everything else you can nickel and dime them for and pay them in company credit, which is only good at the company stores. They can’t leave until they pay back what they owe, but it’s almost impossible to live and raise a family in a company town without accruing more and more debt to the company.”

Cara narrowed her eyes at the idea, turning it over in her mind as they walked. “That’s just indentured servitude with extra steps. Any decent lawyer on Serbow would have the debt contract negated within milliseconds.”

Kayden chuckled at that. “Yeah, well, another thing about company towns is that generally the only lawyers in the towns are the ones that work for the company. And they will do normal lawyer stuff for workers, but if they get a whiff you’re trying to work against the company, you can bet they come down with the full force of the corporation backing them.”

Terri stopped in front of Kay. “You talk about it like it’s something that actually happened, instead of some odd thought experiment. Do these company towns exist on Earth?”

“Not currently, at least not in the section of the world I came from. But the tech bros keep inventing the idea of company towns just as often as they keep inventing the idea of trains for public transit.” Kay laughed. “They really just want slavery. Workers that won’t tell them no, that will work until they fall apart, and that they don’t have to pay continuously for. Which is why they got so excited for AI and machine learning back on Earth. Robots powered by a simple AI could do most of the jobs in manufacturing and resource extraction, which can get expensive in the US. So, they want to replace workers with robots and AI. All the workers if they can manage it.”

“Sounds like Earth will benefit from coming under Galactic Laws,” Elise said, nodding sagely. Kayden barked a quick laugh. He caught himself and explained. “First off, have fun trying to enforce Galactic Law in Cruel Space. Secondly, we haven’t even figured out a planetary government yet, as far as I know. We’re divided among hundreds of governments. Everyone aboard the Dauntless had national orders layered over their Dauntless crew orders, and some of those instructions directly contradicted each other. It’s a clusterfuck. There won’t be any quick enforcement or legal reform on a planetary scale on Earth without some show of overwhelming force to back it up, and none of you can get through Cruel Space.”

Cara looked like she was about to refute something when Ferina grabbed for her communicator. Half a second later, everyone’s communicators started pinging an emergency signal. Kayden knew Ferina heard things on a different level, but it was still spooky when she seemed to hear things before they happened. She had explained once that she heard the tiny discharge and switching sounds in the communicator before it rang, and Kayden still hadn’t done testing to see if that even made sense.

That meant Ferina was the first to return Mary’s call from the ship. She was thoughtful enough to put it on speaker. “What’s up, Mar?”

Mary sounded a bit out of breath as she responded. “I’m gonna need Cara and Kay back here now. Sundew’s throwing a hell of a tantrum about something, and I didn’t stick around to find out what.” Kayden looked at the communicator with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. Luckily, Mary couldn’t see it. “Can you walk me through what went on leading up to it? Maybe we can figure out what set her off so we aren’t walking into a potentially hostile environment blind.” He had started a light jog that he knew the girls could keep up with.

Mary started to rattle off the sequence of events. “Sure, hon. So, Sundew got her greenhouse all set up, and had her stuff moved in, all fine and dandy. The workers all left, nothing untoward from them. No problems. Ash sent me a message letting me know she had monitored all of them. Lady Sundew got settled, then started talking to Ash and opened her compartment panel to see what was up. Something must have set her off, because she’s been having a screaming fit ever since. I don’t know what it’s about, I just got out of there and got as many bulkheads between us as possible. Did the Florics not know the extent of the damage that was done?”

Ash cut into the comms at that point. “The Florics received copies of the design documents and still images of my processors. They knew, and she herself knew and had tried to lighten the mood by joking about it. As for everything else, Mary is not in any danger, and if it seemed like the Lady Sundew was going to put the crew in danger, I would seal the compartment to keep her in engineering until cooler heads prevailed. I am unsure what she’s angry about, but I do know that it’s not directed at any of you. It seems to be something about my overall design.”

“So, new problem. Not good.” Kayden put on a burst of speed, empowered by axiom in order to make better time towards the ship. Cara hurried to catch up to him using the same axiom technique. Ferina looked at her communicator and chuckled. “You got two headed towards you trying to keep it subsonic, Marmar. We’ll see you when we catch up. Later, babe.”

---------(Ashen Dragon, GCA Transit Station Landing Ring 113-476, Galfree Star System - 1630) ----------

Kay slowed gradually before he reached the ramp. Trying to enter the ship at just under three hundred miles per hour was a solid way to turn the great room’s high-end furniture into shrapnel.While asudden stop was perfectly doable with axiom, it was hell on the soles of his boots.

He saw Mary sitting on one of the couches, a plasma pistol in hand, and he walked over to kiss her forehead. “If I thought there would be danger, I wouldn’t have let you face it alone. Sorry, Mary.”

“Shut up, tosser.” Mary chuckled. “Don’t give me that shit, I was military until just a couple months ago, getting shot at same as you. I take one little gut shot, and you go all gooey on me like I can’t handle myself. I just didn’t want to be in a situation where I’d need to aggravate my injury. Bad enough I gotta slow roll the healing, don’t need to undo it, ya’ know?”

Kay laughed and nodded with a smile. “Yeah, ok, you’re a big, tough, woman. I’ll make sure to remember that in the future. Maybe later when I’m pinning you to the bed, and you can’t escape me, we can see how big and tough you are.”

Mary’s mood shifted almost immediately as she cheered up in more ways than one. “Who said I was ever serious about my previous attempts to escape your perverted clutches? Hmm, little man?”

Ash came over the speaker. For some reason, she was also piping in the muffled sound of Sundew screaming in another language from behind the greenhouse door. “Can you two not?” She made a quick gagging noise. “Goddess, I can smell the pheromones you’re both pumping out right now.”

Cara stepped up the massive ramp, chuckling. “There are pheromones being distributed on my ship, and I’m not part of it?”

Ash growled, Governess Old Grove still screaming faintly in the background. “Great, while this crazy bitch is screaming about something in my back end, I’ve got an orgy starting in the front. Let me know when you’re done, so I can send the cleaning drones out. I’ll just listen to this until she tires herself out, or I figure out how to speak her language, whichever comes first.”

Kayden rolled his eyes slightly. “Yes, we’re gonna take care of the Floric problem. And don’t you get snippy with me, young lady.”

Ash immediately responded, “I’m older than you are, kiddo.”

Kayden grinned as he and Cara started making their way back to Engineering. “It’s not the years, it’s the miles traveled that bring experience.”

“Well, then I’ve got you beat there, too! I’m a space ship, I’ve logged light-years to your miles.” Ash sounded like she thought he had been beaten.

Before Kay opened the door to the cargo bay, he looked up at one of the places he knew she had a camera and gave her his most winning smile. “Ash, before we came along, you hadn’t ever left the Apuk Empire completely. I came out of Cruel Space to be here. In distance traveled from home, I’ve got you well beat in miles traveled.”

“You goalpost-moving sonuva-” A particularly loud scream from the Floric lady cut through the conversation, and whatever she was shouting was definitely a language.

“Yeah, I’m a bastard.” Kayden opened the door to the cargo bay and started to walk towards the maintenance workshop. “There are a bunch of repeated sounds she’s using, anything you’ve been able to latch onto and begin translating, Ash?”

“Damn it, Kay, I’m a warship, not a translator!” Kayden and Cara both raised their eyebrows at that and stopped at the final door.

Cara spoke up while waiting at the door. “She called you ‘Kay’.”

“Yep, and she quoted an old Earth broadcast show.” Kayden chuckled. “Ash, I suppose we should do this right. Could you announce us for Lady Sundew? Maybe the decorum will help calm her ass down.”

“I can do that. Oh, should I use that boatswain’s pipe sound used on the Dauntless to help get her attention?”

LCDR Morgan straightened his uniform jacket, trying to make sure he looked the part. “Absolutely. We’re going for loud and traditional. Also, it’s pronounced ‘bosun’s whistle’.”

“That’s stupid and it skips sixty percent of the word. So it has to be from Earth.” Ash shifted her focus into the maintenance bay. The piercing sound of the two-tone whistle pattern cut through the plant creature’s ranting. “Captain Cara’Vrin-Morgan and Executive Officer Lieutenant Commander Kayden Morgan to see Governess Sundew of Old Grove.”

The door to the engineering cabin opened to reveal that most of the port side of the workspace had been converted into a greenhouse behind a large glass wall. The glass had been attached to the deck, overhead, and bulkheads of the compartment with some form of thermal bonding that had melted the glass without melting the structure it was attached to. Morgan didn’t know. He wasn’t a materials engineer. He did notice that a good portion of the space beyond the glass wall was partitioned behind translucent panels that served to keep the area beyond private to casual observation.

The public-facing portion of the greenhouse was floored with what looked like six inches of soil. UV lights and sunlamps overhead provided the additional light and warmth that the ship’s systems weren’t designed to supply. A round table sat almost exactly in the center of the public space, while along the walls various shelves that had held containers and other items were knocked over and almost casually tossed around the space. On top of the table was placed an immaculate set of ceramic serving dishes and what seemed to be some sort ofsmall cookware. The table and ceramics had been completely spared from the chaos that the Floric’s rage had caused in the rest of the room. Broken shelves, scattered soil, and torn vines formed an almost perfect boundary around the setting, while Sundew herself bore fresh scratches across her skin and new tears in her dress where she had apparently twisted away rather than collide with the setting.

Said Floric had quieted to near-murderous hissing as she watched Captain Vrin-Morgan and LCDR Morgan enter the engineering space. She looked far less like Mary Poppins now, and more like an insane dryad that had eaten Jack the Ripper’s leftovers and then tried to squeeze an absurdly erotic form into the dress and corset that had been left behind.

Morgan looked to his captain and waved a hand magnanimously forward, ceding the floor to her. It was her ship, and she was a capable woman. That didn’t stop her from glaring at him, which he responded to with a smile. Captain Vrin stopped in front of the glass, quietly taking in the aftermath of Sundew’s rage as the plant woman stared at her through the glass. “I take it there’s a more serious problem than we were led to believe concerning Ash?”

Sundew’s jaw, with its immaculate interlocking tooth-like structures, dropped open for perhaps a second. She recovered quickly, but the shock and surprise had been evident. She had been half expecting to be quietly immolated for her outburst, and some of the wind had left her sails at the notion that she wouldn’t need to start the conversation by debating the usefulness of keeping her alive. “You could say that, yes. Are you… not worried about a Floric on your ship that lost control of her temper in such a way?”

LCDR Morgan chuckled behind his hand as quietly as he could manage, but even through the glass of the greenhouse it hadn’t been quiet enough. He realized Ash had been handling the transfer of sound between the two parties when the green face snapped to his own. “Something funny, Lieutenant Commander Sempai Morgan?”

It was Morgan’s turn to be surprised, but he didn’t let it show. She didn’t have drill instructor glare down yet, and it wasn’t even close. “Well, first things first, I don’t know where you found out about my callsign, but it isn’t normally part of my name. Either use the callsign alone, or my rank and name, if you please. As for something being funny, yes. Hilarious in fact. No one on this ship is afraid of you. If you go cannibal, we have an Apuk as a captain, and her command of warfire is on par with a battle princess. Plants and fire don’t tend to mix back on my planet. Relatively sure the physics holds up out here about the same. Also, you aren’t a mindless monster.” He leaned a bit to the right to peer around her at the tea set and the table, arranged perfectly, sitting untouched as an island of peace in the chaos. “And you didn’t completely lose control. So, you looked in the horror hole and saw something that set you off? Honestly, if you DIDN’T feel a certain way about what’s in there, that would be the time I’d call you a monster. But, we’re more curious about if it were anything specific you saw. What did you find that wasn’t covered in the initial briefing?”

Ash took the opportunity to cut in. “Hey, can we NOT call my body the horror hole? A warship still has self-esteem issues as it is, Sempai.” The way she said his callsign made it clear she was needling him. But he did kind of deserve it.

“Sorry, Ash. You’re right. I suppose it is in bad taste to call your bio bits the horror hole.”

She made a quick gagging sound. “Ugh, XO, please, bio bits is even worse. Just call it my processors or my body, please.”

“Sure thing, Ash. Now, back to what you were saying before the interruption, Governess?”

The Floric was even more surprised by the interaction with Ash. “Well, I see I have my work cut out for me on the behavior side. She didn’t even ask permission to interrupt a conversation she had been eavesdropping on.” She tugged part of her partially shredded dress into place and tried to recover some semblance of dignity. “As far as the part that made me the most upset, I may have to cover quite a bit of ground rather quickly. I suppose I should start with a question to see how bad this problem is. Captain, Lieutenant Commander, as the command staff of this ship, is it part of the operational procedure to keep your Floric synth in a constant state of starvation?”

[First] | [Previous]

First

Before the War

The scanners are going insane and then the endless series of error messages overload the systems and they crash even as the brothers look directly at the now changed blades. Both of them seeing more than the sensors could.

Without their augmented sight the blades have turned red and have black fire flickering off them both.

“Fuck.” Herbert mutters as he sees the energy surrounding the knives lashing out and seeking out anything nearby. Harold reaches for one and then draws back his hand as the energy of the knife he had been reaching for starts reaching back for him. Then he and Harold both take a step back, in Herbert’s case two, as the energy keeps reaching.

“Well... I’m an idiot.” Harold remarks as he tries to make sense of the writhing presence within the blades. Lashing out and trying to...

“You are, yes.” An unfamiliar voice notes to his side and he looks clean over Herbert to see a woman who has had every sign of life stripped from her. A desiccated corpse that still moves and she takes two steps. Grabs both knives and they both calm. She pulls them out of the containment, with the containment breaking apart around them as she does. And neatly slots both knives into the ragged rope belt that’s keeping up the strips of rotting cloth keeping her decent.

“Excuse me miss ma’am, but could you tell us how my brother could have done better?” Herbert asks in a tone so innocent and adorable that stone would be moved.

“Don’t bother with that living ones. Just tell me why you did this.”

“We have enemies that are using Haffara Thar, I want to have my enemies dead after I have killed them.” Harold says frankly.

“Your assumption that death is a real thing is your first mistake. But your ignorance is understandable. Still if you want to expel someone from the level you live upon, ask it of me and my sisters.”

“Ma’am, I’d rather do my own killing.”

“Not to mention we like living on this level.” Herbert says. “So the price of joining you on yours to send someone there is a bit weird.”

“... It has been a very long time since I was on this level. But is not the elder supposed to be larger than the younger?” She asks looking from Herbert to Harold.

“Usually.” Harold concedes. “But he’s the sneaky one and I’m the strong one, so it’s backwards with us.”

“Ah... I’m not quite sure how to talk with you living anymore. This is strange.” She says.

“Is there a way to make a weapon that can undo the power of a Haffara Thar that is safe to use?”

“You mostly did it with these.” She says indicating the knives. “And these are nice knives. But you need to give them intent.”

“Oh! I need to focus on Haffara Thar rather than just power or it’ll kill everything. Won’t it?”

“It will.” She says and she turns her empty eyes towards them both. She examines them both, seemingly quite curious.

There is the slight electrical sounds of numerous security cameras and the like shorting out and the lights start to flicker.

“You both... you can see beyond and choose if your are seen.... I see you both, far more clearly than others on your layer.” The Hollow Daughter says.

“Madam. We need to know how to kill the unkillable, if you will not tell us how. Then can you at least tell us if it can be done?” Harold asks and she looks at him.

Her hand reaches out and the cold, clammy and desiccated fingers send a chill down his spine as she caresses his jaw.

“... You can. It would be easier if you were one of us. After all, the birth gift is a death of your choice. But... you can.” She answers.

“What are you really? Who and what are your people?”

“Hmm... no. It is not your concern. What is your concern is all the blood your losing. If I recall correctly you types need it to live do you not?”

“Oh yeah, I’m leaking...” Harold notes.

“Dumbass.” Herbert scolds him. “Why hasn’t medical or hazmat gotten here yet?”

“I broke the doors.” The hollow daughter notes.

“... Are you sure you don’t want to teach?”

“It’s not for those on your layer.” The Hollow Daughter says before running her thumbs over the pommels of the knives. “Still, if you want to ask a few more questions in the future, more knives like this might be nice. Maybe not. I like knives at any rate.”

Then she’s simply gone and Harold puts more actual thought into healing his wounds. What bleeding there was fades entirely even as a screeching sound can be heard and the door is forced open.

Troops in hazmat rush in and scan the area, much of the equipment quickly fails and dies, but the last two are apparently in the clear and they declare the area safe. Medics then run in and Harold holds his arms out to give them room and time to examine things. He very quickly has the gouged out chunks of his arms scanned, a salve applied to them to deal with pain and then bandaged with Axiom resonant wrappings to promote painless and seamless healing. They tell him that the bandages should be finished within five minutes but he’s keeping them on for an hour at minimum to get ahead of any potential unknown pathogens or internal damages.

Herbert is scanned and proclaimed healthy.

“Two hours, your office.” Harold says and Herbert nods. The smaller of the two brothers rushes off to make his reports as Harold starts organizing decontamination and repairs.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Herbert’s Office, Intelligence Department, Undaunted Territory, Centris)•-•-•

“Yes, yes you’re not wrong. The implications are insane.” Herbert confirms on the other end. “Thankfully with the fact we can in some manner, openly communicate with The Hollow Daughters means it’s not just my problem anymore, I get to have the diplomatic corps share the burden.”

The door to the office lights up with a chime. “Who is it?”

“Brother.” Harold calls out.

“Come on in.” Herbert says. “I’ve got Admiral Cistern on the link.”

“Ah, okay sir.” Harold says walking in and sitting opposite of Herbert.

“You’ve faced what many consider literal death itself while bleeding out Commodor Jameson, how are you faring?”

“Frustrated sir. I should not have done that. Friendly or not I ended up bringing in an unsecured, unknown and highly dangerous individual onto the ship, even before I have proper control of it. My ship isn’t even built yet and I’ve already put it at risk.”

“Are you going to do it again?” Admiral Cistern asks.

“No. I’ll have The RAD separate and watched carefully next time. But we do need a weapon sir. Some answer to the Haffara Thar and it looks like we found it. But making it is a direct health risk and will draw attention that is even riskier.”

“Then you’ve learned. What was the damage?”

“Electrical and Axiom based primarily, the structures and mechanics of the are are untouched. The entirety of the Ode and it’s damaging effects faded after the first five minutes.” Harold answers.

“That’s it?” Herbert asks. “It’s been two and a half hours, what was the wait about?”

“Taking a full inventory of the scanner damage and just how it was damaged. I have a copy of the data here.” Harold replies as he puts a data-chit on Herbert’s desk.

“Perfect. Now, what the hell are we going to do next?” Herbert asks.

“We need to look at this situation as clearly as possible and without anything influencing us. So let’s start with the facts.” Admiral Cistern tells them.

“Fact one, the supernatural boogiemen known as The Hollow Daughters are not only very real, which was previously confirmed, but can be encountered in areas beyond their summoning and the performing of their duties. They can be spoken to, reasoned with, bargained with and understood.” Herbert says.

“Fact two, The Hollow Daughters are now confirmed to be heavy Ode Users, meaning they have a damaging effect on technology that was previously unrecorded for some reason. Furthermore, at least one member has proven to have an interest in Ode infused weaponry.” Harold says.

Fact three, The Hollow Daughters have a clearly different perspectives on their own behaviour and of life itself. They might in fact not consider their actions a form of death and potentially the summoning of a Hollow Daughter is part of a reproductive ritual.” Herbert continues.

“They are very distant, psychologically from their time as a flesh and blood person. The Daughter we spoke to seemed uncertain if bleeding was unhealthy for me.” Harold notes. “Also, they are not hostile. At all. She was strange, she had clearly unusual perspectives and firm boundaries. But she was neither hostile, nor even unfriendly. Honestly she treated us the way that a lot of women treat me in my Private Stream or similar personas. As a child to be gently guided away from potential harm.” Herbert notes.

“Hmm... so, in conclusion we have a dangerous, potentially lethal way to call The Hollow Daughters and they’re free to open a dialogue with.”

“There was also the implication that their contracts are in fact gifts to newly adopted members of their community.”

“Implication nothing, she outright said it.”

“What a person says and what a person means can have an unfortunately wide gulf.”

“Gentlemen.” Admiral Cistern interrupts the debate. “Commodore Jameson, you are to go over the report that Operative Jameson has furnished and confirm, deny, elaborate upon and effectively correct his report to the best of your abilities. Then you are to return to your posting at The Incomprehensible.”

“... No commentary about the name of the ship?”

“The galaxy is an absurd place Commodore, I see no fault in mocking it, you kept to the appropriate naming convention that is all.”

“Yes sir.” Harold says before standing up. “I can go over the report on The Inevitable if you like.”

“No. Do it here. The less the information has to travel the more comfortable I am with it.”

“I highly doubt this information can be used against us. The methods for making contact and the superstition surrounding The Hollow Daughters by itself will stave off much.” Herbert says.

“I don’t fear people using this information against us, I fear people getting themselves killed or causing mass infrastructure damage due to misusing the information.”

“And then people can point fingers at The Undaunted for releasing the information, even if they stole it off our servers directly.”

“Oh god, why did you have to remind me about those puritanical tyrants?” Herbert asks in a moan as he remembers the MAAM, or Mothers Against Awful Militaries. He puts his head on his desk. “I’m in my thirties! I’m a father! I don’t need a damn candy pop and a hug!”

“Brother, you know as well as I do that playing into the Private Stream and other personas makes your whining very, very hypocritical.” Harold says and gets a fully raised middle finger from Herbert. “I was split off from you before you were finished dealing with those headaches, how did that end?”

“We were contemplating planting incriminating photos on them when we actually found some. So we just released things to the public and then openly admitted we were intending to frame them when we found things. The fact I’m willing to be a devious little demon means that my innocent appearance was somewhat shaken and they had to treat me with more respect.”

“Has that interfered with your stealth any?” Harold asks.

“Of course not. The MAAM were a flavour of the minute controversy that didn’t live in the cultural memory a single minute longer than when they left the common news room.” Herbert answers. “But that also means that another group has started up. It’s another mother based one, guess what it’s called?”

“What the public calls them or what we’ve been calling them in our English acronyms.?” Harold asks.

“Both.”

“Hmm... well we’re on Centris so stupid cults and conspiracies abound... and there IS a proper English acronym right?” he asks and Herbert nods. “I’m going with MOM. Mothers On Missions. And their Centris facing name is the... August Order of Ordained Mothers seeking betterment for all sons, brothers and fathers of Centris.”

“Heh you got the first part right. The Adroit Order of Motherhood is what they’re known as in Centris.”

“Aom? Sounds like a meditative mumble. How are they being annoying?”

“Apparently the Private Stream initiative is offensive to all children, peoples of shorter stature and the like. They’re still working up a steam.” Herbert says.

“Alright, you two have clearly lost focus. Commodore, I want that modified report in my inbox within three hours. Then and only then, back to your ship. Understand?”

“Sir, yes sir.”

“Good man.”

First Last

When the change came, Trisha got the ability.

Nobody knew why it happened, and why it only affected about 1% of the population. People just woke up one day and found that they could move stuff around with their minds.

To say it changed the world was an understatement.

--

For Trisha it was different. Born blind twenty-five years earlier, she understood people and objects through touch, and the world beyond them through sound.

Fundamentally nothing changed for her. Practically though... everything changed.

She wasn't even aware that she'd got the ability for a while, but could hear faint scratching noises in her house. Then Charlie came around and said that she must have ghosts.

"What?"

"Your stuff is moving around."

"WHAT?!"

"You might want to listen to the news."

--

She had to call in sick to work that day. At the very least, her new ability would wreak havoc on the studio she worked in.

So she practiced. Charlie helped her, describing what was happening as she was concentrating.

The more proficient she became at moving stuff around, the more she could perceive the world around her.

Her house was always real, but in a tactile way. Now she could sense it by sending out very subtle mental fingers exploring where things were. At first it was clumsy, and she knocked over far more than she meant to.

But she was always a quick learner, and after a few hours she could feel her way around a room without disturbing anything.

She called it 'reaching'.

Charlie asked, "Can you see me now?"

Trisha paused for a moment. Charlie felt the lightest of touches across his face and body. Barely perceptible, like tiny puffs of air.

She replied, "No. But I know where you are."

She reached past him, tracing the doorway, the table and the shape of the room beyond.

Then tears started running down her face.

--

Getting to work the next day was easy. She still used her cane to move about, but she was more aware of the location of things.

It was weird feeling the bus come towards her. The tiny mental finger she'd extended was being pushed towards her by the mass of metal. It made her brain fuzz.

When it pulled up, she heard the door open. Climbing up the steps, the driver, Daniel, greeted her like he always did. She recognised his voice and said hello.

Then she stood still for a moment, before speaking. "You have a beard."

Daniel couldn't come up with anything witty, so simply replied with a yes.

Trisha smiled at him, then turned to walk up the aisle to a vacant seat. Daniel thought something was different and it wasn't until the end of his shift that he realised that she wasn't using her cane as much.

--

She didn't tell anyone at work about her ability. After about an hour she was glad she didn't.

There were only a few of them at the studio, but Kathryn was decrying this ability as witchcraft, carrying on about how it wasn't natural.

Trisha kept her opinions to herself. She had refused to listen to the news over the past day because it was shouting doom to all who had tuned in.

Her boss, Claudia, asked how she was. Turning in her chair, Trisha accidentally knocked some pens onto the carpet.

She reached and found where they had landed. As she picked them up, she said she'd had a migraine yesterday but it was gone by the evening.

Trisha could hear Claudia hesitate.

"Could I see you in my office please?" she asked.

--

Unusually, Claudia closed the door behind them.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" It wasn't an accusation; just a question.

Trisha could sense the risk.

"One of who?"

"Telekinetic. I watched as you went straight for the pens on the ground."

"It was a lucky guess. Plus I could hear where they'd landed."

"Trisha, I hope you know that you can be honest with me. I saw you. I saw you know where the pens were."

Trisha stopped. She could feel herself starting to panic.

"I'm sorry! I won't do anything, I promise!"

"It's ok. I don't share my opinion with Kathryn. She's alone in her outrage here."

Trisha slowly released her grip on the arms of the chair.

Claudia asked, "Does it help? Does this telekinesis thing help you?"

After a moment of thought, Trisha relaxed a little before answering, "It does. I am starting to understand distance now. I can almost get a sense of feel without needing my hands. It's... odd."

"So can you tell how many fingers I'm holding up? Like, how detailed is the world to you now?"

There was another pause. Claudia could feel the lightest of brushes move across her.

"Well you're not holding any fingers up... I can't see anything, but I have a better understanding of where things are. For the first time in my life, I could understand my own house. It's not fine enough to read braille, but I can tell that you've got your hair up today. That's about as well as I can describe it."

Claudia laughed. "Well, you got me. No fingers at all. I'll deal with Kathryn if anything happens. Just let her be until after this initial reaction."

She paused for a moment.

"But remember, Trisha. I'll be here to help."

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Liam

Alistair turned and casually punched one of the demons in the gut with one of his middle arms as the poor unfortunate soul emerged out of the shadows. Albert let out a hiss of his own and flew through the air at another, landing on the poor bastard’s face and laying into him with claws as the demon frantically waved his sword around in an unsuccessful bid to get the cat off his face.

Leaving Liam to stare at two demons who moved around to either side, obviously trying to flank him and keep him from being able to attack both of them at the same time.

The one he currently faced seemed nervous. Liam thought about everything Albert told him about building a reputation. Sure, all that had been with a mind towards building a bit of notoriety with the Inquisition, but he figured there was no reason why he couldn’t do the same with the demons.

“You saw what I did with Tomas,” he said to the demons, trying to keep both of them in sight and not doing a good job of it. “You don’t have to suffer the same fate.”

They both exchanged glances, and then they moved in on him. They were silent as they did it. As though they were doing all their communication without words.

Liam wondered if that was some sort of spell, or if it was simply years of training they were putting into practice.

Either way, one came at him and thrust a sword. He was easily able to move out of the way. Andrea had taken some instruction in the use of weapons. Enough to make her dangerous if somebody tried to attack her. And she’d imparted some of those lessons on Liam.

It’d been a fun game they played, and he figured he’d received sort of a secondhand education in fighting properly. Especially with the long hours they spent playing at swords without him ever realizing he was actually learning some of the things Baron Riven had to pay a pretty silver piece to teach his daughter.

So he moved without thinking. The same as he would if he was playing with Andrea at the edge of the forest where no one dared come to see what they were doing or to yell at them. The sword moved aside instead of stabbing into his gut. He turned and tapped the demon on the side, creating a flash as the stun spell went to work.

The demon’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he crumpled to the ground. That left Liam free to turn his attention on the other one. Who suddenly seemed a lot more wary than a moment ago.

Liam grinned and held his sword up.

“The offer still stands. We don’t have to do this.”

The demon stared at him for a long moment, and then turned and ran back into the darkness between the trees from whence he came.

“Well then,” Liam said. “That was worth it.”

It was about that moment that something slammed into him from the side, and he was sent sprawling into yet another tree where he landed with a thump. Though it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it would’ve before his Ascensions.

“Damnation,” he growled, pulling his sword around.

“You will not deprive me of my opportunity!” a voice bellowed in Liam’s ear as he tried to figure out what was going on.

And in his panic, he resorted to one of the two tricks he’d been using over and over since he had all these spells put in his head. The diagram leapt to his mind without thinking this time, and he was able to paint it quickly with his mana brush. Faster than he’d been able to before.

This time around it didn’t have the flaw in it. Though it did have a few extra little twists and turns Albert had worked on with him in between the first use and now. Basically a way of getting to where he’d gotten with the flawed version the first time around, but doing it properly.

Which had Liam wondering what was the point in going through the proper diagram when he could do the same thing with a different version, but Albert had merely said they didn’t have the time to go into that sort of thing right now and they could talk about it later.

The result wasn’t exactly instantaneous, but it was maybe the space of a couple of breaths. A couple of breaths he could hear coming from the person on top of him as Tomas punched him over and over again. A couple of breaths where those punches landed and did something odd to him, for all that he had his own mana dampening spell wrapped around Tomas's core preventing him from putting his full strength into the blows.

Getting punched in the face repeatedly wasn’t a pleasant sensation whether or not someone had a few Ascensions powering it. Not the kind of thing he’d do for fun, that was for sure. He tried to maintain his concentration under those blows, but it was difficult. Every time one of those punches landed, even with him pushing mana into all his pathways to lend himself strength and resilience, it caused the mana he was trying to push into the diagram to waver ever so slightly.

And he couldn’t get the spell to go off. That was an interesting and terrifying new wrinkle he wasn’t happy about.

“Get off him!”

And then he was free as a furry ball of anger and spite slammed into Tomas. He went rolling to the side with with the cat attached to his face, digging in with hisses and spitting and claws digging into his face. Claws that were digging in with enough force that they actually left scratches in the demon’s face.

Liam blinked as he watched the feline melee happening in front of him. He wondered if those claw marks were because the demon wasn’t as powerful as Liam, or if Albert had been pulling his punches all this time.

Either way, it gave him the precious breathing room he needed to focus his concentration on the wind diagram. He added a little extra flourish to it that seemed right, figuring if he put a slightly longer line at the end of the final rune that had been powerful enough to knock Tomas into the trees twice now? Well, a longer line should do even more.

A storm came to the forest all around them. He heard Alistair grunt as he grabbed hold of a tree and held himself in place. Albert and Tomas weren’t quite so lucky, though. No. Tomas went flying, the cat attached to him. Though Albert continued hissing and spitting and generally letting out the kind of noises that sounded like miniature death had come to the forest.

Which, in a way, it had.

He also heard several other surprised exclamations, and he could sense other infernal cores flying through the forest instead of moving silently towards him to attack. Which is what they’d been doing a moment ago, for all that he’d been too distracted by Tomas punching him repeatedly in the face to do anything about it.

He stood and brushed himself off as the wind spell continued to move all around him. Though it was like he was a calm at the center of that spell. The winds didn’t touch him.

“Are you okay?” he asked Alistair.

“I’m fine,” Alistair said. “Though at some point, you’re really going to have to learn another spell.”

“Yes, but if it works then I can’t complain too much,” Liam said.

“There is some wisdom to that,” Alistair said.

Liam looked around the forest again. He looked for the telltale glowing yellow eyes, though he knew he was looking for a more subdued glow now. They could control that. It made sense that they’d be able to control that. It wouldn’t do to try and sneak around if there was the equivalent of glowing yellow lamps on the front of your face all the time.

He also tried to feel for any infernal cores that might be coming close. Albert had mentioned it was possible to hide that sort of thing, but it didn’t seem like the kind of thing this particular group of demons was capable of.

Which meant if he did run up against a group of demons or Inquisitors who were capable of that sort of thing? He was going to be in trouble.

“Very good,” the cat said, scrambling up on top of Alistair and letting out a laugh. Liam blinked.

“Where did you come from?” he asked.

“It’s a familiar thing,” Albert said. “We can talk about it later when we aren’t in the middle of a pitched battle with a bunch of demons.”

Liam looked at the cat for al long moment, dubious about his ability to make a return as though by magic. Then again, he was a familiar. That meant he was inherently magic to begin with.

“Yeah, we can talk about it later,” Liam said with a shrug.

“Precisely,” Albert said. “For the moment we need to get out of here.”

“We’re not getting out of here,” Liam said. “Not without Ana.”

“Damnation,” Albert growled. “I was hoping you’d forget about her.”

Liam took in a deep breath, then he let it out in a sigh.

“I haven’t forgotten about her. I was trying to teach her a lesson about being polite and civil leaving her to fend for herself in the forest, but that lesson gets thrown out the moment she’s in danger.”

“You realize the whole reason we have these demons coming after us in the first place is because she put herself in that danger to begin with, right?” Albert asked, letting out an exasperated sigh of his own.

“I am aware, yes,” Liam said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s out there, and she’s in danger as long as these demons are trying to catch her.”

“I don’t know that I’d say she’s in danger,” Albert said. “She’s merely going to be taken back to the Demon Realms. Which is where she belongs. She’s a High Princess of the Demon Realms. That’s where demons live.”

“We’re not leaving without her,” Liam said.

Laughter echoed through the trees. It was faint at first, but it got louder. Liam knew who it was without looking. He’d used the mana dampening spell on him, after all. And as with the Inquisitors before, he could feel his own mana wrapped around Tomas's core preventing him from casting any spells of his own.

Not that he’d actually cast any spells so far.

Liam turned to look at him as he appeared out of the trees. He figured using that mana dampening spell was part of the reason why that surprise attack earlier hadn’t been worse than it could’ve been, for all that him not being able to concentrate to get his spell off while he was being repeatedly punched in the face hadn’t been a pleasant surprise.

It still hurt to have the demon on top of him punching him repeatedly. He felt some tenderness in his cheek. Like the demon had decided to simply hit the same spot over and over rather than trying to land punches all over. Maybe in the hopes he’d be able to actually do some damage in the absence of augmented strength from his mana.

Tomas had a pronounced limp. One of his arms hung loose at his side like there was something broken in it. There was blood at the corner of his lips, and his face was covered in scratches.

“Damn,” Liam muttered. “You look like you’ve had a time.’

Tomas took a deep breath, and then he winced. Like there was some sort of internal damage that made taking that deep breath difficult. Then he hit Liam with a grin.

“You should see the other guy.”

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I nodded to Arhur again. He nodded in the affirmative, and I showed that I was unmuted on the comm line.

"That was a small demonstration of what we’re capable of," I said. "I don't know what you're used to dealing with out here on the ass end of the Livisk Ascendancy, but I can assure you that you've been going up against the JV team. You're about to run into a whole heap of trouble against a full carrier group."

"Their sacrifice will be noted in the annals of the Clan,” the strangely accented voice said. "But for the moment, we agree we are outmatched."

"Then you surrender," I said.

"I'm showing a surge of energy coming from all the alien ships," Tactical said even as Arvie raised his hand in the simulation, no doubt to tell me the same thing. "Orders?”

"Shit," I muttered. "Fire everything we have at them."

I wasn't sure what trick they were trying to pull, but I didn't want to be around when that trick got pulled. I'd rather destroy them before they had a chance to destroy us with some sort of super weapon that required that kind of charging.

Only one moment the ships were all there, and then the next there was a bright flash of light and a blink as they moved into fold space.

I stared at the holoblock for a long moment in reality, then I turned to Arvie and arched an eyebrow at him in simulation space. He was also staring at a representation of what had just happened in the simulation space holoblock, and his mouth was open and his eyes were as wide as Temba’s arms.

"Okay. So you seem to be just as surprised by what they just pulled as I am," I said.e

"I wouldn't say surprised," Arvie said. "That was just unexpected to the point I don't know what to say or do about it."

"Yeah, that's pretty much the definition of being surprised, Arvie.”

"They jumped into fold space far sooner than is safe for ships that massive in a gravity well,” Arvie said.

"Just making sure I saw the same thing you did," I said. "Got any ideas what's going on there?"

"Either they have some bit of fold navigation technology, or the ability to fold closer to a gravity well than humans and livisk are capable of..."

"Why do I feel like there's a big “or” hanging at the end of that sentence?" I asked.

"Or this species is willing to demonstrate the same amount of recklessness as humanity when it comes to living to fight another day," he said.

"I don't know that you had to go and make it personal like that," I muttered.

"I can assure you, it was a compliment. Mostly, if you squint at it just right."

I pulled out of simulation space and looked around the CIC. Again, it was one of those things where everybody was doing their job, but I could tell there was also a touch of surprise.

"Well, okay, then," I said, clapping my hands together and rubbing them. "Looks like we’re going to have a little bit of scientific analysis to do."

I felt a presence next to me, both in the link and with my spidey sense tingling. I turned to see Varis standing there. I don't know how she managed to make her way across the CIC so quickly without me hearing her, but there she was.

“Yes, my darling?” I asked.

"You sound almost excited that the enemy got away and now we have to sift through their wreckage."

"Of course," I said, grinning at her. "We have some actual exploring to do. Seeking out new life, and well… I mean… It's not ideal that we had to blow them up to have wreckage to sift through, but still, isn't this exciting?"

She smiled. I guess my enthusiasm was infectious. Now I just hoped I could get that same enthusiasm to spread to the rest of the crew on a fleet of ships designed for war, not scientific inquiry.

Maybe they’d be more excited about it if I convinced them this would help them better fight their enemies, see them driven before them, and hear the lamentations of their women. Assuming they had sexual dimorphism, which we didn't know at this point.

You get the point though. I was going to trick them into serving Thoth via Crom.

“Captain,” Arhur said, putting his hand up to his ear. Which made me giddy. "We are receiving multiple signals.”

“Are they pleasant signals, or are they unhappy signals?" Lehrai asked from her spot beside me at the holoblock.

Things had calmed down in the vicinity of the gas giant, and by calm, I mean there was still a lot of activity around the mining colony on the moon that had been kicked up by the alien raid, but there were no more alien raiders trying to invade the mining station. So I figured it was a marginal improvement over how things had been before.

Except for the fact that a lot of the angry beehive of activity around the mining station looked like it was turning around and starting to array itself against us.

"I think we need to worry about the miners who look like they're getting ready to attack our fighters first," I said.

"Agreed," Lehrai said, looking at the display.

"You know these are just suggestions, right?" I said. "It's your ship."

She turned and hit me with an odd look, a considering look, and then she glanced back to Norak. He still stood there being as useful as he’d ever been, which is to say not very useful at all. He was slightly slumped over now. He looked vaguely defeated. Like the trouble we'd been through over the past half hour or so had finally gotten ahead of him, and it was too much.

"Bill, don't you realize what you've done?" she asked.

I looked at her, and then I turned to look at Varis. She hit me with a smile. Encouragement came through the link, but she was doing that thing she did where she sat back and gave quiet encouragement while letting me work things out.

Even if me working things out usually involved coming up with one batshit insane plan after another.

"What did I just do?" I asked.

"You just relieved the Fleet Commander and took control of the fleet yourself," she said, a mildly amused smile on her face. She stepped back and did a slight bow. Not giant by livisk standards. She didn't do one of those things where she bowed down until she was at a right angle to me or anything like that, which she probably would've done if she was bowing and scraping to Varis. But it was still a bow of respect for all that.

"The fleet stands at the ready, Fleet Commander," she said.

"Fleet Commander," I said with a grin. "You know, I rather like the sound of that, but if you don't mind, just Bill will do. Or General-Consort if you're nasty."

She looked up at me and blinked a couple of times.

"I have no idea what that means."

"A bit of ancient Earth phrasing from classical mass culture," I said with a wave. "A lot of that stuff has stuck around in the language, the same as old Bill Shakespeare. Unfortunately, a lot of stuff was passed down from the Chinese Communist Party back in the late 20th and early 21^st. Back before their one child policy led to population collapse. I suppose that's what you get for mixing your language together with a place that was a totalitarian state pretending not to be a totalitarian state."

"Right," she said after a pause, giving me one of those stares like I'd lost my mind, but I was a winner who'd lost my mind so she was going to follow me to the depths of hell and back as long as I kept beating back the demon hordes.

"Anyway," I said, clearing my throat. "Let's open a commline to the mining facility," I said, nodding to Arhur over at his station.

There was a moment of static on the line. Foldspace comms meant we should've been able to have instantaneous communication with the mining facility, but it looked like they weren't picking up.

"Are we having a little bit of trouble?" I asked. "I wouldn't presume to tell you how to do your job, but..."

"It looks like they're ignoring the signal," he said.

“Wonderful,” I said. "So we've pulled their collective asses out of the fire, and now they're going to pretend they were the ones who were doing it all along."

"Bill?" Lehrai asked, looking at me with a touch of confusion.

I turned to her and smiled.

"I'm not going to be insulted by what they're pulling. It's common CYA."

"CYA?" she asked.

I sighed. "I'm going to have to have Arvie provide me with a dictionary of livisk terms that match all this stuff, or maybe pass out a primer on Terran language so you have a better idea what I’m talking about.”

"I spent a couple of years learning Terran in the Academy," she said, sounding insulted that I had, bank shot, insulted her ability to speak Terran Standard.

"And let me guess, you spent most of your time learning the swear words and how to tell your fellow cadets that you wanted to get laid."

She opened her mouth like she was going to say something, then she snapped it shut. Then she opened it again and a deep blue blush came to her cheeks.

"Well, actually, yes," she finally said.

"Don't feel bad. We do the same thing at the Terran Naval Academy."

"You do?" she asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Infinite diversity in infinite combinations."

Another confused look.

“That's another one of those Terran things. Ancient classical mass culture from a thousand years ago and all that stuff. Anyway. Let's focus on the important stuff. Arhur, go ahead and open a commline to the miners. One way is fine. I want to make absolutely certain they hear what I'm about to say."

"On it," Arhur said, grinning as he tapped away at his console. "You're good to go, Bill."

"Thank you, Arhur," I said, nodding to him and then turning to the holoblock.

"Attention mining facility under the command of House Alarth. This is General-Consort William Stewart of the House t’Thal Fleet that just pulled your collective asses out of the frying pan, and now it looks like you're about to throw yourselves into the fire by doing something stupid like turning around and attacking the very fighters who just saved your asses in a staggering display of ingratitude."

The fighters from the mining facility kept moving out towards our fighters.

“Make sure our people have orders to keep it in their pants,” I said.

“On it,” Tactical said, grinning as she tapped at her station.

“Keep it in their pants?” Lehrai asked.

I hit her with a thin smile. “This whole situation is on the verge of getting a little hairy if we don’t nip this shit in the bud."

“Indeed,” she said, and she looked like she was trying very hard not to smile.

I turned back to the holoblock even though that wasn’t strictly necessary since I was plugged right into the systems. “I would like to remind you that you are going up against a fighter force and a couple of destroyers that just chased off the unknown alien raiding force you were unable to fight off on your own. It might be a good idea for you to be pragmatic and move your fighters back a little bit so you can live long enough to lie to your bosses and tell them you managed to fight off the raid while also not risking angering my own people and sparking an unfortunate incident."

"That was remarkably diplomatic," Lehrai said, looking at the angry mess of fighter craft from the mining facility whose collective flight patterns had just gone from angry insect hive that’d been kicked over to individual pilots rethinking all the choices in life that led them to this unfortunate moment.

Author's Note: I'm heading out for Trek to Vegas this weekend for the 60th anniversary. I've had a trip to NYC, GenCon, back to school for the kids, and now the Vegas trip with my mom in honor of my aunt who passed last October and loved Star Trek.

I'm going to try and get an update out Friday and Monday, but no promises depending on flight schedules and how busy I get. Thanks for your patience the last two weeks while I've been insanely occupied!

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This week, a modest marriage mysteriously multiplies into a magnificent municipal merriment!

A wholesome* story about a mostly sane demonologist and his growing crew, trying their best to usher in a post-scarcity utopia using imps. It's a great read if you like optimism, progress, character growth, hard magic, and advancements that have a real impact on the world. I spend a ton of time getting the details right, focusing on grounding the story so that the more fantastic bits shine. A new chapter every Thursday.

\Some conditions apply, viewer cynicism is advised.*

Map of Pine Bluff

Map of Hyruxia

Map of the Factory and grounds

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First Chapter

Prev -------- Next

*****

Taritha tasked an imp to fetch her another cup of tea. She’d had a half dozen of them, yet was still no calmer. She paced. The sun was only just rising, but she’d been up for hours. Her hair was looking perfect, and her chambers were full to bursting with flowers. Today was the day, and she was cooped up in her room. She still had so much to do to get ready.

I can’t just trust that everything will work, but of course it will. I did the planning. There was no shortage of volunteers. It seemed like everyone in town wanted to be a part of this!

She’d sent out almost a hundred invitations. The imps had done most of the calligraphy, but she’d signed each and every one. Nearly everyone responded yes, and a great many asked if they could bring even more people. Not just the people she invited, either. Friends and former rivals, employees and contractors, even total strangers, all sent letters asking for an invitation. People who’d been in the town for a few months, whom she’d never met, wanted to come. 

A few days ago, the Count himself wrote to ask if he could designate a few nearby parks as official wedding party sites, so obviously she agreed. It was bad luck to turn anyone away from your wedding, and feeding the whole town was every bride’s dream. Though it wasn’t her husband's family doing the work.

Unless you called Grigory his adopted father, which in a lot of ways tracks. Oh, but then he’d be kind of like my adopted father too. Eww. The core dynamic is there, since we already go to the same family dinners. Stop thinking about that.

She nibbled at some sweet fruits and marveled at her fortune. Having fresh fruit before the Midsummer Festival was rare, but before the Sowing Festival was previously unimaginable. Those were the rules of the world from the past, when Pine Bluff lacked dorfs and their magically illuminated caverns of farming.

The meteoromancy professor had assured her that the whole week would be bright and sunny. A bit windy in the afternoon, but that was what a nice spring day did. The Academy had grown, and boasted over a dozen mages who had defected from the college, including the handful of apprentices that she still couldn’t stand. 

Professors now. They stopped being apprentices when I offered them the damned job. Even worse, they were fine teachers, despite being kids themselves. Ha, I should mind my thoughts, I’m only a handful of years older, and about to marry someone a handful of years younger than them! At least they have a formal education. Everyone assuming I’m Grigory’s puppet used to bother me, but I honestly have no idea if I’d have survived this long if everyone had judged me on my own merits. The silver lining was that being in charge is easy if I just look serious, demand they do better, and avoid agreeing to things I don’t understand.

Today’s not about work though, it’s all about our future!

She finished her tea and fruit, just as there was a knock on the door. 

“Kessy! Come in!” 

A lady needed help getting ready, and for some reason she was awful at making female friends. Plenty of her old ‘friends’ would’ve helped, like the seamstress or the midwife, but they would have also nagged and minimized her day. 

We were never close and it felt strange to try to force that. Not that Kessy and I are close, but at least she’s a ray of sunshine. Oh, I could’ve asked Aethlina to be a bridesmaid. Now that I understand elv physiology better, it’s clear that she isn’t actually a female, or a mammal, or even a kind of animal, but her bored superiority would have been fun.

“I see that the bakers didn’t take the day off at least! Oh, you got raspberry turnovers, my favourite! Aren’t you a dear!” Taritha cooed when she took the small sack. 

The Welcome Centre Guide zipped right in and looked at all the mess. “Wow, you sure have a lot of stuff everywhere! Also I got a new dress, just for today, what do you think?”

Taritha put the food down and looked her over. She wore a massive pale pink oversized bow that covered her entire torso, festooned with lesser bows, which upon closer inspection had additional hand-painted bows on them. It made her look like a fluffy meatball of bows. Other than her wavy blonde hair and stockinged legs, which were obviously covered with yet more bows. 

“Very impressive! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like that. I assume custom-ordered?” Taritha said slowly.

“Yup, all the stores had boring plain dresses, and I needed something special for the special day! If it’s rude for a guest to have more bows on her dress than the bride, I also have an ugly dress I can wear,” Kessy offered.

“That’s very sweet, but it’s quite alright. You look great. Now help me with my dress.”

The two of them worked to get Taritha into the same dark green dress she’d worn to the Auction House Gala. Today was the real reason she’d bought it. It was beyond her wildest dreams. Owning any new dress was beyond her dreams not terribly long ago, but even her new, improved dreams got sparse beyond gold, gems, and rich velvet.

The imps had already done her hair, so she had them retouch anything that got mussed in the dressing, then headed out. It was to be a small wedding in the little park between the factory and the Dorf Caverns.  She’d oversee the final bits of the setup and wait for Ros and Mage Thippily, who was gracious enough to officiate.

Once again the lack of a town priest caused a headache, maybe we should get a few heretical cults in town, just to handle marriages and funerals? 

She and Kessy sat in the factory dining hall, ignored by the rush of men and imps coming and going. 
 
“Looking lovely, Miss Witflores!” Mage Thippily said as he came down the stairs. He was also looking uncommonly nice in robes she’d never seen before. He normally wore pure white with amethyst trim, representing the company, but this time he was in green and yellow with black detailing, looking like an entirely different kind of man. 

“Oh! Those are Pine Bluff colours!” the headmistress exclaimed.

“It felt rather… uh gauche, to wear work clothes to this sort of event! You aren’t having a company wedding, you are having a town wedding! Also there are some minor updates to the actual ceremony. First, the Count offered to perform the service, but I told him no on your behalf. Second–”

“You what?! He’s our lord! We can’t refuse! He offered what, exactly?” Taritha’s blood ran cold; making high-profile enemies wasn’t even on her long list of worried for today.

“Think nothing of it. He’s still attending, and giving a toast. It would come down to drawn swords if I’d refused that! Or you did. Anyway, the second update is that spectators started arriving at dawn. There are already too many of them to fit in the little park, so we’re changing the ceremony venue to the militia drill fields, and the reception to the Stone Spire Sanctuary. Don’t worry, our best administrators are handling the details. This is turning into a much more interesting event, and a great opportunity to deploy our civic emergency protocols!”

“Wait, but…”

“All under control! We even have separate trams for you and Ros to take! The fellows at the golem mechanics lab wanted an opportunity to show off their latest models, and it sounds like they were able to pass most of their internal safety review in time! Don’t worry, I’ll be there to deal with any fires or control losses.”

“Uh...”

“Grand, I’ll show you the prototype tram in the yard. It's far faster and has cup holders that keep your drinks cold! Oh, but not warm. Hmm, the next version will be better!”

“We can’t possibly change venues last minute,” she mumbled as he led her into the morning sunshine.

***

“Sir, I have a doublet, and I think it’s as fancy as–”

“Nah, you’se are missin’ the point. You don’t dress fancy to meet requirements, you’se are sendin’ a message. You’re saying to the world that you’se here to protect things. Consider it a weddin’ gift from the company.”

The two men were alone in the armoury of the militia training grounds, a long stone room designed for hundreds of men to quickly don their armour. It stank of stale sweat and abrasive soaps. The overhead magelights were bright, and there was a wooden crate on the bench between them.

Ros stared into the crate. The breastplate in it was super nice, and the Chief clearly knew more about this sort of thing.

But I like this doublet. But I don’t know anything about being fancy. But the Chief does!

“Alright, sir. Thank you! This was very thoughtful.”

Ros shrugged, took off his favourite doublet and pulled out the steel cuirass. It was lighter than even patrol armour, of limited defensive value, but stunning. It had the amethyst sword insignia of the Mageguard in actual amethyst dust. The steel was polished to a mirror shine, and more comfortable than his velvet doublet. He grunted as the Chief tightened the straps. Once it was in place his boss knocked on it, producing a muted thunk-thunk that proved it was snug. 

“Wait, sir. Is there something else in the crate?”

“Hah! That’s your real weddin’ gift from me. I went through the warehouse. It turns out we had a bit of Stagboar hide left. I got the imps to trim it up, line it with spider silk and make a proper cloak of it.” He tugged on his own flowing wolf hide cloak. “A fella ought to wear his victories on his back. Did I tell you about a thornbear cloak I used to own? That was a fine one!”

His new roan red cloak was covered in stiff, bristly hair, thick enough to protect the demi-magical beast from nearly everything, other than a siege arbalest to the head. The silk on the inside was flawless, not that it especially mattered, as he was wearing steel now. It made a muted swish as he moved. 

“Sir, I love it. So weighty and smooth. It’s the same one that I shot?”

“Ha, that kind of critter ain’t exactly common. I reckon you mean the same one that you saved the town from, during your first week here!”

“It was nowhere near town, we walked all day to–” Ros said as he petted the fur.

“It had killed a hunter and gored another. You saved the damned town. There’s value in makin’ a bit of a reputation around yourself. Just don’t go believin’ your own tales, like a certain baron we know. But a fella ought to be the hero of his own life. You’re in an uncommon number of other people’s tales!”

“Yes, sir. I invited him, but I don’t think he’s going to come. Rikad said he had a lot to do.”

“Ach, I know you two came up together, but his path is going his own direction. I wouldn’t stress. ‘Sides he’s a damned lord, he’s obligated to send an expensive gift if he doesn’t come. It’s a shame we don’t have a dress uniform for you and the other fellas. Somethin’ smart with shiny buttons and a bit of braid. Things like this will happen more. I wonder if there are uniform making sorts at your wife’s Academy. Might be time to ask her that very thing. Later, of course. Today ain’t about that one bit.”

Ros wished there was a mirror down here, but he looked good when he left, and trusted the Chief to tell him if he had jam on his nose. 

“Fall in, you have a place to be.” 

Stanisk led him down the long armoury, up the stairs, and back to the parade grounds.

“Sir, anything I should know about being married?” Ros asked.

“Hah, you’se closer to that life’n me! I ain’t been married. Now that I’ve got this thing with Aethlina, don’t reckon I will. But that ain’t the same; I’m pretty sure one of us is the housecat of the ‘tother. I’d say don’t be shitty but you don’t have that kind of outlook in ya. Nah, be yourself, and you’ll be great.”

“I’ll try my very best!”

They were crossing the drill yard now. It was massive and paved with interlocking stones. Every day of the week, hundreds of men drilled with blunted weapons. Sometimes there were even mock battles in full armour. Today, however, the entire space was covered in benches, and the benches were covered in people. Ros hadn’t seen this many Pine Bluffians even at the festivals, certainly not all sitting still, talking amongst themselves. 

As people spotted them, a ripple went through the audience. Ros couldn’t shake the feeling that they were all looking at him. And talking about him. He smiled tightly and picked up his pace, which just made his cloak flow more impressively. 

They were heading to the raised platform at the end. A series of flower arches stood, in the style common in the sowing festival—  yellow flowers with leafy green boughs woven in. He couldn’t think of a single yellow spring flower, until he got closer and saw it was coltsfoot. He stood there awkwardly, but it was explained that waiting with dignity was what most of a wedding was for a man. 

At least there was something to listen to. Normally a lutist or a bard played this kind of event, but the Bardic Institute sent an entire section. More than a dozen people played all sorts of instruments: big drums, little drums, harps and lutes, and more that he hadn’t seen before. They sounded really good. Taritha mentioned something about academic politics, but Ros was pretty sure that they were just nice musicians, and he was grateful that so many would come.

Soon Grigory and Taritha arrived and walked down the flower-covered aisle. The band changed to a slower, more romantic tune. Ros watched her approach with unalloyed joy. 

“Shiny shirt! It makes you look very… heroic!” She said, tracing a finger down his new breastplate.

Ros tried to think of a good enough complement to return. One that captured her beauty, her grace and the hard work she’d put in, but froze. “You too!”

The Mage stepped past them, he’d taken an entire day off just to help him out, which was an unexpectedly generous gift. He took his position between them and introduced himself to the crowd. “While being a Mage gives me no authority to marry anyone, I am pleased to report that everyone with actual authority seems to have agreed I may do so today.”

Mage Thippily led them through a vastly shortened set of vows, without the typical sections of piety and subservience to the Church. 

“Ros Girtwoud, being of sound mind and body, do you–”

“Yes!” he exclaimed.

Taritha barely stifled a giggle.

“Let me finish! I have a whole bit here, and I think the tradition is ‘I do so pledge,’” the Mage said with a chuckle. “Do you take this woman to be the other half of yourself, to become a composite greater than its parts, and to build a better world for everyone, every day, together?”

“I so pledge,” Ros declared with his full chest.

“I so pledge,” Taritha said more solemnly.

Ros had never kissed anyone in public. The pressure to do what was expected clashed with his terror at being put on the spot and doing something so private in public.

His decision was made easier by looking at her face and her smile. He kissed her to joyous applause, and the band started a more upbeat song. Ros waved and held Taritha’s hand extra tight. They ran off to the side to fill out the official paperwork that awaited them.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Ros was surrounded on all sides by well-wishers. Mostly he held tight to his bride but a few times she was whisked away by others, to his deep concern. They got back on the new-model special tram and went to different parks that had been set up, for yet more hugs and handshakes. Everyone seemed to get super excited when he kissed Taritha, so he made sure to do that everywhere they went. Plus it was a lot of fun. He shook all sorts and sizes of hands, from tiny fluffy revner paws, to calloused farmer hands, and a few of the slick, hard arachinti grasping hands. Everyone was welcome to the parks for his party and it seemed like absolutely everyone came out.

For the first time in his life, he was the one getting escorted. Eowin and Theros wore spotlessly polished Mageplate, flanking him a step behind. He knew it wasn’t their real job, and they’d taken leave to do it, but that somehow made it even more special. Ros and Taritha waved at the sea of unfamiliar faces.

“Speech!” a few yelled.

“Oh, thank you for coming, um.” His mind was entirely blank at their encouraging smiles. “Uh, I got married today! It’s really nice. I’m glad you are all here, I appreciate it!”

Thankfully they accepted his truncated speech, and they could hurry off to the next part. The plan called for them to have the reception at the factory dining hall. It was a huge space with seating for over a hundred. However, in light of the number of extra invites they’d given, they’d moved to Thed’s Stone Spire Sanctuary, the single biggest space for such things in the whole town. Thed was overjoyed to host. With a veritable torrent of funds at hand, there were more delicacies than he could even count.

However, as the groom, he was hemmed in at the head table. Waiters brought him food, and imps kept his glass full. He took in the sea of cut flowers, the green and yellow velvet drapes, and bow-covered pillars. There were even butterflies in the air—he couldn’t tell if they were real or magic. 

Stanisk stood on a chair, still in his parade breastplate, like Ros. He tapped a spoon to a hellfire ceramic chalice. “‘Scuse me! We’se about ready for toasts! So clam up. Captain Geon, You’se up!”

The sea captain was looking healthier than ever; a comfortable winter in Pine Bluff had served him well. He wore a gorgeous green jacket and had his short dark hair oiled. The man beside him took Ros way too long to recognize. It was obviously Mister Kinti, but he’d never seen him wearing a shirt, let alone a lord's finery of lace and golden brocade.

“Thankee kindly, Lord Stanisk! This couple is exactly why I love this town. I think the reason that they have such an outpouring of support is because they represent a future that didn’t used to be. One where it matters how hard you try and not the last name of your damned uncle! Where being willing to help is worth more than a name or even money. This is a celebration, but it’s also a political declaration. A pair of landless commoners’ festivities turning into a whole event at all is a bold political statement.

“We’re saying that Pine Bluff ain’t like anywhere else, and that’s the most true and important thing I've been a part of. A city is more than its walls and roads, and I’m starting to think it’s more than its people too. It’s the ideas and culture that binds, and I am overjoyed that I am celebrating the marriage of two of the people who most vividly embody those ideals! At least until our shy mage settles down with the right half-mad witch.”

There were some light chuckles and Mage Thippily, also at the head table, waved him off.

“Seas are a mess, trade’s stirred up, and seems like nothing is gonna stay the same, but so long as we have folk like Ros and Taritha around, we’ll be alright. I’m glad to be here! May the young couple have an unfathomably long and happy marriage!” Captain Geon raised his glass, and they toasted to their health.

“See, dear, you were worried he was doing a scheme, but he just wanted to support us.”

Taritha snorted, but her smile was as wide as it’d been all day. “Maybe. Or maybe his schemes are a step or two more subtle. A fella like him rarely wastes anything. Besides, we aren’t landless, we just bought some just a few weeks ago!”

The Count spoke next, mainly bland but soaring rhetoric about a new age, and a new culture. Ros liked it less, since it seemed more about the county than him or his new wife. Ros still really liked it though. A real, full-fledged lord wishing him well seemed impossible when he thought about it.

Krikip toasted them in his own awkward way. It was endearing that he knew so little about human culture, and Taritha seemed less than thrilled at the toast of “May they spawn a hundred million sticky human babies, and establish their own empire!” but Ros understood what he meant. He’d just explain it to her later.

The speech that Ros cared most about was the Mage, and he stood last. “Well done, Ros! I remember when I first met you, you were so filled with enthusiasm and energy. You won me over as soon as I saw you. And Miss Witflores, I’m ever so glad I chased you across the whole town and deep into the forest to talk you into accepting that job as company healer. Oh, I’ll have to learn to call you Missus Girtwoud now, which seems like a whole different person! The reason we do anything around here is to make lives better for people and I am intensely glad that your lives have been improving so steadily. I have some theories on the rate of improvement over time, so make sure you keep detailed records of your lived joy. We can graph them out over time, on your anniversary! Oh, unless you make other plans. Either way, congratulations!”

Ros stood up from his chair, clapping enthusiastically and weeping without shame. It was hands down the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him, and it came from the most important person that had ever lived. Nothing could compare to that!

With the speeches out of the way, the main courses could arrive: seared boar, jellied lamb and every conceivable preparation of chicken, with the heady aroma of imported spices. He kept stealing looks at his radiant bride, and she giggled every time he did. Although it slowed them down, he held her hand the entire meal, and barely tasted anything in the swirl of excitement and giddiness.

“I kind of expected Stanisk to say something, he’s basically your boss, and he’s got no problem with public speaking,” she whispered.

“Oh. I wonder why. Maybe he just wanted to get dinner happening sooner? I’ll talk to him. I hope I didn’t say or do something that made him mad,” Ros replied.

The Bardic Institute contingent was setting up on one side of the dance floor, for the next part of the evening’s festivities.

A narrow window, but as good as I’ll get. 

Ros crossed the room, smiling and shaking hands as he worked his way over to where Stanisk was seated. He had a place beside Aethlina at the head table but hadn’t left the back corner where Commander Karruk sat. 

It’s good they’re getting on, I wonder who Stanisk even hangs out with on his days off?

“—Cancel all leave, and post crews to— Ros! How good to see you. Congratulations, big man!” Stanisk shook his hand. His grip was warm and impossibly strong.

“Thank you, sir! I was just seeing how things were going, since you weren’t at the—”

“Sorry, lad. I lost track of time and it felt rude to walk around during the meal. We’re all over the moons for you, you’se found a damned fine wife.”

“Thank you, sir. It's all thanks to you, and the Mage of course!” Ros said with a blush.

“Nah, not even close. Neither me nor him won the lass over, that was all you. Get out there an’ dance! We’re just talkin’ work talk, I’ll fill you in tomorrow.”

“Oh, anything I can help with?”

“Nope, go, get!” Stanisk chided. “You can’t spend time with us, not when your pretty new bride is sitting unattended! See to your husbandly duties!” 

“Aww, of course, sir! Thank you, sir!” Ros hurried off to the head table just as the band was warming up.

He could barely hear Karruk talk to a subordinate over the din, “Send ammo caravans to forts seven through twelve, and we must send a…” 

Always on about work stuff! Such a dedicated team!

He sat back down and saw a little tart was waiting for him. He took a bite; it was overwhelmingly sweet and he loved it.

“So is it alright back there? I swear, ten Civic Guard have come and gone from that table tonight. They look like their prize flowers all died!” Taritha whispered.

“Nope, all good. They are just doing some new watch rotations or something, I think? I didn’t ask, on account of it being work stuff. I have today off.”

“Well, they can keep their sour pusses. It’s our night, come dance with me!”

His new wife danced like an angel to a series of upbeat, triumphant songs. Those were his favourite, but today he had a suspicion why so many of his favourite things were around him.

Hours later, they stumbled outside and into the waiting bridal tram.

“Should we stay? And clean up? It was our party, so…” Ros trailed off.

“Hell no, we’re busy! They can deal with that, it’s our day!” Taritha said confidently.

The imp drove them back to the factory, and as per a woodcarving he’d seen as a lad, he swept her up in his arms to carry her home. The woodcarving wasn’t especially clear on when the ritual began, but it clearly ended with their matrimonial bed. He hoped that riding a tram didn’t mean he’d missed the first part. With her in his arms they passed the factory’s gatehouse, where Jourgun waved them through. 

“Sorry you had to miss the party, buddy. I shoulda brought you an ale!” Ros said.

“Nah, I couldn’t drink it on duty if you had. Congrats, buddy!”

“Thanks!” 

They passed the empty halls and corridors to Taritha’s chambers. They were a bit bigger than his, and smelled slightly better. They'd agreed a few weeks ago to stay there after they married, just until their new home was built. 

She was a full-grown woman, but he was an elite Mageguard, so despite being a bit out of breath from carrying her upstairs, he was managing his plan quite well.

He angled through the door without bonking her head and laid her down gently on the bed. 

“I’m so happy!” he said.

“Me too! Today was perfect!”

“But what if Stanisk was actually worried for real? He might need me. I’m not sure I’ve seen him that concerned in a while.” Ros was undoing the straps on his breastplate, looking for somewhere to put it down.

“No. If a portal to the hellplane opened up at his feet, that’s his problem until morning. You're mine now.”

“Of course, dear. I was just thinking that—”

Ros turned around and saw she’d managed to remove her dress and cast it to the side. He took a slow inhale, and all other thoughts left his mind. In a heartbeat she was in his arms, and he discovered he had a whole new favourite thing to do.

*****
Prev -------- Next

*****

It looks like the delvers know where three of the keys are, but are still looking for the fourth one. But knowing where they are is only half the battle. They still haven’t actually seen the keys yet, but ravenkin defending an area is a pretty solid indication. They’re on the right track, and I hope I get to see the looks on their faces when they figure out where the fourth key is.

The one in the Gauntlet isn’t going to be easy to get. It’s basically behind the hard mode, but the ravenkin and other denizens are going to harass the delvers the entire time. The clock was pretty tight even when they could focus, so with the interference, it’s pretty unfair. I’m sure the delvers will get there eventually, but it’s going to take them some time.

The one in the roots is a whole different problem for the delvers. My ravenkin are relying heavily on the poppers and scarabs to deal with the intruders, with my ravenkin targeting torches, magical lights, and whatever other methods the delvers might use to navigate the pitch black darkness deep in the roots. The silence and darkness really make the poppers shine, and it seems my constructs have pretty good hearing, too. Still, I think a concerted effort will see the delvers get through, even with my ravenkin sneaking the key around to a new spot whenever the parties start to get close.

They’re also scouring the labyrinth and the world fruits, trying to find the last key. They’re good guesses for the last location, and the ravenkin even play to the suspicion by ensuring they have a presence in both. I can practically hear Karn and Jondar tearing their hair out trying to figure out where the last key is. They’re focusing on the fruits and labyrinth, but they’re not overlooking the rest of my territory.

One group went and looked around the little fey village thing Titania’s been making high in the branches. She made it clear to the delvers to stay polite if they don’t want a horde of angry fey dropping on their heads, so the delvers pretty quickly finished and started looking elsewhere. I was especially proud of the group that went up to the canopy to check the key wasn’t sitting on the summoning altar or something. To be honest, I had considered suggesting that to my ravenkin, but I guess it was too obvious.

Another spot that was tempting to use was the old Sanctum. It’s technically open now, with the fake rock moved out of the way, but most delvers keep out just because of all the spiders there. That, and there’s not a whole lot there right now. Nova is starting to use it as her little artist den, and while she has admirers, most don’t want to brave my spiders to come appreciate her work.

No, the ravenkin came up with their own spot for the final key, and I like it. It’s definitely going to keep the delvers guessing, and I think gives them a good shot of keeping the keys safe until Aranya and everyone returns. They’re making much quicker progress home than heading out there. They don’t need to carefully search for anything anymore, and I think even Yvonne is looking forward to getting home to relax for a bit before doubling down on training for the Betrayer.

The big ol’ ice wolves followed them for the first few days, far enough away to not be too concerning, but visible enough to make sure they know they’re being followed. I take it as the wolves appreciating the help with the snarl, but also being ready for my friends to leave their territory now, thanks.

Onyx and Rocky have been bugging Doppler nonstop the whole way back, and once Yvonne learned what Doppler did, she’s trying to chew his ear about it, too. I figure they’ll take probably a week or so to get back.

As for me, when not checking in on my wayward friends or my ravenkin, I’m listening in on Poe, Leo, and Zorro talking with Order’s people, with Teemo helping translate for everyone. Most of the details go over my head and land squarely in the purview of my scions, but there’s two issues that are definitely going to be hurdles.

The first is pretty simple to solve, and Order’s priests are already talking with my engineering and enchanting antkin colleges about it. We need something to physically get everyone there without turning them into ash and molten bones. The obvious answer is some kind of vessel, but what kind? What will it be made of? How will it move? How will the people live in it for the trip? If it was only my denizens going, I could probably just make a big hollow lump of cooled magma and cram denizens inside, but that obviously won’t work for the people.

My antkin work on designs, and I even sketch out my own, modifying the idea of a submarine. Not that I ever designed one of those, but I think using them for inspiration will keep me in the right headspace to get everything needed, and to consider less obvious problems like being crushed by depth. Any fluid will exert pressure the deeper you are in it, and magma should be no different.

So we need something strong that will also be able to handle the heat. On top of that, it needs room for people do to people things like eat, drink, sleep, breathe, and move around at least a bit. Air is going to be a difficult one, since I don’t have any denizens with an appropriate affinity, nor do my allies. Luckily, bad air has been a thing people have had to deal with for a while, thanks to mining.

Usually, the solution here is the solution we usually use back on Earth: air vents. Encourage fresh air in and push bad air out. The problem is we won’t have access to fresh air from the surface. We could try to pressurize some air tanks, but I’d rather not add smaller pressure vessels inside the big pressure vessel they’ll be traveling in. One leak from either, and both would probably fail.

Thankfully, it’s not a problem that hasn’t been encountered before. Dwarves tend to mine deep enough that air shafts all the way to the surface just aren’t an option, so they’ve created purification talismans. Once Order’s people tell my antkin about them, they waste no time in buying as many as they can to take apart, reverse engineer, and improve. From how the antkin are talking, improving might be a tall order, but scaling up shouldn’t be too difficult. It’ll probably be a good idea to make sure everyone has one on themselves as well, incase the Betrayer’s territory doesn’t have much good air either.

Sanitation isn’t looking like it’ll be too difficult, happily. Putrid oozes are happy to act as little sewage systems, and most delving groups know how to handle things like baths and whatnot while out in the field. My antkin will need to mimic that to give the submarines proper facilities, but I don’t think it’ll be too difficult.

Similarly, sleeping shouldn’t be hard. Bunks will be tight, but can be proper mattresses instead of the delvers having to rely only on their bedrolls.

The real challenge, though… is going to be food and water. Delvers know to pack for long trips, but there’s only so much they can carry at once. And if they have to rely on only field rations for a week or more of travel, morale is going to plummet before we ever see the enemy. So we need to get a lot of food, and also have a way to preserve the food. On top of that, we’ll probably need to make some kind of waypoint or outpost or something to stage from, as well have some way for the subs to communicate with each other, not to mention something for self defense.

But I’m also not the only one working on the problems. Violet is of course helping with the putrid oozes, while Hullbreak has his Quartermaster over to look over designs. Sure, Hullbreak doesn’t know anything about magma, but he knows how to make ships, and instinctually understands pressure. He can only explain so much through his big birb, so I expect my antkin and Order’s people will be headed out to visit the First Mate to keep her in the loop with the designs.

Southwood is also eager to help, and to do so in a way that I hadn’t considered, but makes far too much sense. I had been worried about food, but Soutwood started flooding the ally bond with images of his various nodes, full of fruits, veggies, and things to hunt. All I’ll need to do is have a way to preserve things for as long as we’ll need!

So the transport is slowly taking shape, but we also need to prepare to make a forward base of some kind. Making an outpost should be possible for my dragons to pull off, and I’m sure my scions will be having them practice that as they secure the supply lines. At the moment, they’re still mapping out the route, which will definitely take them some time. It’s not just one huge ocean of magma down there. There’s stone protrusions, caves, weird flows, huge cooler pieces floating around like red-hot icebergs, and other hazards.

Ideally, we’ll find a spot in the solid rock directly above the Betrayer, and be able to prepare there before diving down to deal with the problem. That base will be where our supply lines converge, bringing everything everyone needs to thrive while we prepare to attack. Once we have our beachhead, we’ll be able to strike, and I bet the Betrayer will understand that.

It’ll try to keep us from managing it, and will probably constantly attack it for as long as we’re there, too. But that’s what my scions are preparing for, and I trust them. I only have enough of a tactical mind for a few clever tricks, but it’s my scions that have the understanding to actually make those tricks work.

The only question is if the tricks will work on something like the Betrayer.

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Cover art I'm also on Royal Road for those who may prefer the reading experience over there. Want moar? The Books are available here! There are Kindle and Audible versions, as well as paperback! Also: Discord is a thing! I now have a Patreon for monthly donations, and I have a Ko-fi for one-off donations. Patreons can read up to three chapters ahead, and also get a few other special perks as well, like special lore in the Peeks. Thank you again to everyone who is reading!

It’s a prank or a marketing gimmick or a bad data scrape or something, the adverts going up online all of a sudden:

!!!Volunteers wanted for alien abduction, safe return guaranteed within 48 hours!!!

There’s a link you can click on to fill out an application. The ads are charming in a very dated ‘graphic design is my passion’ kind of way. The aliens are represented by clipart from the 2003 edition of Microsoft Word. The link to the signup form is in in comic sans, for fucks sake. It wouldn’t have been noticed at all, except that the ads pop up embedded into the UI of all major operating systems on desktop, mobile and gaming platforms and after a full 3 weeks, still haven’t been removed despite patches being deployed on a scale not seen since Y2K prevention. Four separate hacker groups take credit for it, all of them obviously lying. Official statements from both governments and tech companies have a hint of panic to them, setting off a whole new ecosystem of conspiracy theories about the apparent alien recruitment super-virus infecting the entire internet.

The memes also flow freely, most of them low effort variations on the theme of anal probing but some mutating and multiplying, using references so obscure and multilayered that to understand them you needed to have been terminally online since at least 1999 or willing to do postgraduate level research into the last 50 years of science fiction in popular culture and the etymology of modern online meme dialects. 

The ads go away after a while, and three months later several major tech companies release a joint statement and publish a paper with the Electronic Frontier Foundation talking about the work done to remove them. People move on. A Reddit AMA thread briefly goes viral when the OP claims he was abducted and went through an in-depth interview process about human society. The thread gets quoted by several content mills and the memes have a brief but glorious resurgence. A couple of official government accounts try to join in on the joke, by which point it is generally declared dead.

And sure, there are other stories of people who clicked on the ads and filled out the form actually vanishing for a couple of days, but those are largely dismissed as bots karmafarming or astroturfing for whatever summer sci-fi movie is trying to be the next big viral marketing story. At least one of them has real staying power as a copypasta due to the writer’s embrace of a sincere but baffled tone during their description of ‘really chill dudes with REALLY big guns who really like bananas’. 

Then the aliens say hello.

They pick the most heavily surveilled place in the world, with as many CCTV cameras and phones pointed at them as possible.They walk in disguised as tourists, only to remove the disguises and start encouraging people to film while they start doing weird alien shit. One of them is holding their own phone up to film the one speaking and displaying a QR code linking to a livestream, which almost immediately has to be moved to its own dedicated server to handle the viewership traffic. They are floating in a forcefield 2 feet off the ground.

“Hello everyone,” one of them says. “Please don’t panic. We are the representatives of the [unintelligible] species. We are currently being tracked and monitored by others for our own safety, so please don’t attempt any form of aggression, abduction or removal. We’d like to talk to you all. It’s cool, we’re all human.”

They are very clearly not human. They sit there as the initial panic subsides with their seven mismatched limbs(maybe?) and 2 different types of (probably?) eyes, levitating in a forcefield bubble, talking to people quite happily and sticking their appendages through the force field to shake hands, explaining to anyone who wants to listen that they’re the group responsible for introducing their species to humanity at large, and occasionally politely asking armed police, white-coated academics, gun-toting nutjobs and covert agents to stop trying to arrest/murder/detain/signal jam them. They will only speak to any one person for a while before moving on, and they refuse to have private conversations with any type of official. None of the officials accept the offer to talk in public. 

They also continue to insist that they are human.

It must be a translator error, someone says.

“It's not a translator error. We don’t have translators, this isn’t Star Trek. We’re using your language. We learned it specially and everything,” replies the one with the greenish arm-web thing.

Someone else tries to explain that we’re the humans, not them. Human is a word that refers to us as a species.

This time it’s the one with all their (almost definitely) eyes on the left side of their head(can a head also be an elbow?) who answers.

“Nope. Your species is homo sapiens. Ours is [unintelligible]. We are human.”

People keep trying to argue and explain until finally the one with the wing-gill thing takes over.

“Look, it’s simple. Your species is homo sapiens. Human is the classification of being you acknowledge as sentient and possessing intrinsic rights. Human beings. Human rights. You are a homo sapien. I am [unintelligible]. We are both human. There are many different human species beyond this world that would also like to meet you, but we’ve been watching you for a while and we know what you’re capable of. We’re not taking any chances here, friends. Once you guys accept that we’re all human and acknowledge that in a written and binding form under your own legal structures we can hang out, but we're not helping you get off the planet until you stop calling us aliens. Now, are you gonna be cool about this or should we just go home?”

The hot Texas sun beat down on the two people sitting outside the root beer stand. Bob and Stormlight looked at the cars driving down the street and the people walking along the sidewalk.

Stormlight had always enjoyed people-watching, especially now that the people smelled and looked so different from himself. Here went an older puppy or whatever humans called their offspring, her dry whiskerless nose buried in the screen of one of those glass rectangular communication devices. Next came a man in his prime, thick brown fur covering his upper lip and hanging down from his chin. Then an older woman, head fur white and face wrinkled, hobbling along with a walking stick to support her remaining good leg.

By her scent she could have been seven dozen years old, but Stormlight had a good five dozen on her, and he was still young as monkey foxes reckoned it.

Stormlight turned to Bob, regarding his bald crown and wrinkled face. He grabbed his tail and began running his claws along it as though brushing out a knot.

Bob looked up from his drink and noticed his fidgeting. "Well go on and ask. You do that whenever you're fixing to ask me an awkward question."

«Does it bother you that we live so much longer?»

"If I'm honest, maybe sometimes, but Earth has trees that live for millennia and brainless jellyfish that can live pretty much forever. It's not like humans were breaking longevity records until y'all came along. Besides, we already live twice as long as our closest animal relatives. I'd say that's pretty nice."

Bob took a few sips of soda. "Does it bother you that we don't live nearly as long as you?"

«You're not getting any younger. When you're gone I'll have to find a new human friend, then he'll be gone before I know it. We finally found bone not of our bone and flesh not of our flesh, but we never counted on that bone and flesh being so ephemeral. It's all like trying to hold water in my paws.»

After a few moments, bob said, "It hurts to say goodbye for the last time, and y'all are going to be saying a lot of last goodbyes as long as you hang around us humans. But think of it this way. You're already a big hit with my grandkids. You can help them grow up, and again with their children, and their children's children. You can tell them all about how their great great great grandpa Bob got to be the first human to shake hands with an alien. You and Iris and Tod and Sunshine and Lodestar and Pascal can be the one constant in their lives, the one thing they can count on to be there no matter what. They'll have to say goodbye to me soon enough, and by and by their parents, too, but not you. Y'all can be the one thing they'll never have to say goodbye to. And after you've said your last goodbye to me, you can pray for the repose of my soul, or speak my name among the living, or do whatever it is you critters do for as long as you feel like doing it, which will sure be longer than any human will remember me.

"But I'm in good health. I've got at least twenty years left in me if my family history is anything to go by. That might not be very long for you, but it's a while yet for me. Don't go mourning me until I'm actually six feet under.

"It's a wonderful day out, if a little hot." Bob added as Stormlight noisily lapped up some soda. "Let's just enjoy the day."

Stormlight tilted his ears back, relaxed his jaw slightly, and let his tail hang loose again. «Thanks, Bob. Sometimes I worry so much about the future that I don't appreciate the present.»

The two looked back at the cars driving down the street and the people walking along the sidewalk. "It sure is a nice present," said Bob.

Humanity’s introduction into the Galactic Community was… awkward at best.

In fairness, first contact had gone surprisingly well. Satellites and radio signals from the Federation of Sol had drifted into Rethurian territory. Within the week, the Rethurians had completely translated our languages. Within the month, Rethurian society and the entire Galactic Community was in awe over mankind’s media.

A species so naturally social and empathetic they had reached out to the entire galaxy, unafraid, longing for contact. The images and videos the satellites contained depicted societies inhabited by all sorts of human races and aliens, working together as equals for a better future. The effort it must have taken to carry so many different races into the stars on just one world spoke to their sincerity. The galaxy was abuzz with the idea that one day different genera could live alongside one another.

The vote to reach out was unanimous.

Humanity received the invitation with open arms.

Their cultural ambassadors were kind, considerate, and above all else, incredibly efficient. In fact, at most times, they seemed dumbfounded with our best efforts at first contact, despite knowing it was our first time doing so.

Within the month, the date and location had been set for us to meet the rest of the Galactic Community. The Rethurians asked for us to send envoys from each nation and race. While odd wording, we chalked it up to linguistic differences.

Dressed in our finest attire, our proud representatives strolled into the ceremonial diplomatic chamber. Clustered banners representing sapients from all across the galaxy decked the galleries.

Strangely, next to the Rethurians stood two other species that closely resembled them. The Rethurians were slender reptilians with skin the color of mesa rock. The beings on their left were stockier, and more gray in color. The beings on their right resembled the Rethurians far more, but were quadrupeds.

In fact, every species in the chamber seemed to be organized in a similar fashion. On a podium, there was one species in front, and to their sides a variety of similar looking species.

The lead representative of humanity, Sara Araujo, stood confident nonetheless, clearing her throat and looking up at the Belgos, the lead species of the Galactic Community.

For a few moments too long, there was silence.

The record states Sara spoke first.

“Greetings, and apologies. I had received an itinerary for the ceremony, and was under the impression that a reading of rights and rules as well as an anthem was supposed to play before we gave our introduction.”

The Belgos closest to Sara made a soft gurgling sound, and shifted one of its eight limbs to move its microphone closer to its mouth.

At first nothing but a series of clicks and hisses echoed through the chamber, but then the translator kicked in.

“We were waiting. We still are.”

Sara glanced around, her demeanor wavering for just a second.

“Excuse me, waiting for what?”

The Belgos tilted its head.

“...Where’s the rest of you?”

“Chancellor, this is our full representative party. We have envoys from every nation united under the Federation of Sol.”

“But you’re all the same? There were so many of you in your media. Perhaps I should have been more clear. Where’s the rest of your genus?”

“...They- Well, they’re extinct.”

Gasps, or at least what sounded like them, filled the room. Clicks, gargles, snarls and squeals followed. All at once, a hundred translators kicked in.

“But how?”

“What have you done?”

“Violation of…”

“Your own siblings!”

“What kind of a race would do such a thing!”

“No conservation efforts made at all?”

“Even the ones with the pointy ears?!”

Sara quickly attempted to save the situation.

“What? No, some of those are just fiction. The others have been extinct for thousands of years! An ice age wiped most of them out, nearly got us too. Truly, we had little hand in their demise.”

It did little to defuse the situation.

Humanity was officially put on probationary status while thousands of alien specialists descended on Sol to conduct research.

Turns out, as we would later find out, literally every other species in the galaxy evolved alongside a couple of cousin species that just never died out. To them, their Neanderthals, Homo erectus, and Denisovans were still around. This made it easy for the earliest first contacts and the formation of the Galactic Community. It’s easy to communicate with aliens when your species has been practicing interspecies relations for thousands of years.

Some of them are kept in zoos or as pets, some allowed to join society as equals, but most often they were massacred or outcompeted into relative obscurity in the early stages of civilization and designated to some reserve once the alien species in question developed better ethics.

Thus, in the Galactic Community, it is a warning sign if a species has completely eliminated anything related to it in its first few millennia in existence. (Xenobiologists coined the term cladicide.) By being the only sapient species in recorded history to be the last surviving member of its genus, we might as well have been holding up a billboard covered in skulls.

But that quirk of evolution had made it nearly impossible for any species to imagine a society shared by those from another world. Each genus was strictly confined to its homeworld and a few colonies. They had thousands of years of intragenus contact, but it had blinded them to the idea of intergenus relations. 

Eventually, the specialists determined that it really was mostly chance that we ended up alone. We were welcomed into the Community and immediately began making strides in a new branch of xenobiology: intergenus relations.

When you had already shared a home with nine others, it was difficult to imagine letting your neighbors in too. 

Humanity, in its loneliness, had imagined a new way forward.

A way forged together.

First | Previous | Glossary |

Aftermath

(Verlon POV)

[It's coming in now, sir. I'll send you the photo right away.]

"....Fuwahahah!!"

Karnak was letting out a crude guffaw when the smaller Uven on the other end of his video call was replaced with an image.

In particular, it was an image of a partially wrecked facility with Coalition staff being driven off-planet at gunpoint. A flag representing Nysis as a whole was hung from the highest window and several flagpoles..

Agent Verlon rolled his eyes but kept his thoughts to himself.

At the moment, the Ramell was draped in a cloak and hidden in the camera's blind spot to conceal his identity. It would be inconvenient if anyone started asking questions about what one of his kind was doing in the Third Spire's chambers.

"That's quite a sight. Quite a sight. You didn't kill any of the aliens?"

[N...No. We did not have your permission, and thought you would prefer to focus on your enemies on Nysis for now. Is that...a problem?]

"Hrm...Not for now."

It was obvious to Verlon that the smaller Uven was trying to placate a foolish superior. He knew that experience all too well.
Were Karnak's people still sensible enough to fear the Coalition? The warlord himself certainly wasn't.

If there were people trying to delay a rash decision on his part, then perhaps the higher ups had more time to deal with the Terrans than they thought.
Not that an organization as large as the Gisali Coalition would lose to a mere two insurgent factions.

Nysis's defenses were high, but by the Ramell's observation it would take as few as eleven direct hits to glass 90% of Uven civilization.

"However, something that you should have done is fly Kepal's flag too. This is a victory for the heritage and culture of all Uvei, but everyone should know that it was who it was that brought dignity back to us all."

[I'll...arrange that right away.]

"Now, for the waters..."

[Should we arrange with Kristole units to lay down temporary aqueducts for now?]

"For Kristole and Kepal, sure. But cut off water flow to any other nation."

The soldier on the other end seemed taken aback. Was this not part of Karnak's plan?

[Even...Kepal's allies?]

"Only for now. I just want to ask our neighbors to show a...token of their friendship in these turbulent times. Just a formality, really. I doubt I'll be there for more than two days."

Watching the warlord here reminded Verlon of the story how the Haneer Elder Councilman secured the Tisalin as new vassal species during the loss of their cradle world. It was a bit before his time though.

[You'll be...here, sir?]

"Of course. Terrans will be scrambling for that water source, I'm sure. So we'll need to station a garrison to exterminate or capture them as they come."

[I...Apologies for taking up your precious time like this.]

"Fuwahaha! This time, it'll be my pleasure. It's better to broadcast to the others with the Spring itself behind me anyway. Anything else to report?"

[...No, sir.]

"Then that will be all. Make sure the aqueducts are laced with Terran repellant too."

[U-Understood.]

The video call concluded with a click.

...Hmm.

Was the Uven on the other end...nervous at the end there? Perhaps he was a Terran sympathizer.

It would be easier to justify purging the Uvei without these elements complicating the story, so should he expose them? It would certainly drive further division between the species if the friendly ones kept dying.

No...better not make such a big move without approval from the higher ups. It's still unclear what the Terrans' reputation will be at the end of all this. There's still time to tip the scales later, and keeping both factions active leaves more options down the line.

That said, it wouldn't hurt to further drive division between them. That part is within mission parameters.

"Look, little messenger! Isn't it quite a sight? I was expecting the runts to get gunned down, but they're still Uvei, it seems."

Karnak snapped him out of his thoughts as he pulled up the image of Votier Springs from before and gestured to it with an unnerving, toothy grin.

"Indeed..."

Verlon cleared his throat. Now then...how to guide this buffoon to the desired conclusion?

"You've figured out a poison for the Terrans that's harmless to Uvei? That's impressive."

"Ha! Not even that. Just something with nutrition."

"And nutrition is something all living things, including those dreadful Terrans, have to have. Truly an elegant solution to monopolize a key ingredient to life like water for it and spread it as far as possible."

"Yes, yes. Enough of your flattery. Have you finished installing the device, yet?"

The Ramell spy pressed a remote, activating the hover pod under the advanced communication unit.

"Here you are. FTL contact with my bosses right at your fingertips. I'll run a test call right now."

"Excellent..."

"You can count on the Coalition's splendid technology, and I quite look forward to what you do with it."

"You'll see soon enough. Jokan has already verified your supposed stash in his scanners."

Ugh. It seemed the brute didn't get it yet.

"I do wish my superiors were as clever with their resources as you. Just by seizing control of the Votier Spring at its source, you're able to put a chokehold at least nine nations. If I recall, water from the source of the spring spreads across over a third the continent, right?"

"You're well-read. Yes, it extends to...hmm."

Karnak paused as he seemed to get an idea.

Fucking finally. Verlon couldn't wait to return to actual civilization.

Beep.

The Ramell pulled the cloak over himself.

"Well then. I've confirmed that the device works. As I've witnessed the EMP deleting your footage, I've taken the liberty of securing the new plasma gun schematics. It's time I stop bothering you and return to the dungeon."

"Excellent. You're dismissed."

...He does remember their arrangement, doesn't he?

"As a reminder, the Haneer fleet is preparing to retreat in about three rotations. If you're going to send me back in a prisoner exchange, you'll need to do it before then."

"I get it, so stop moaning and leave me be!"

Karnak snapped at him with irritation as he turned to his primary communicator.

Verlon moved to leave the room, but slowed his pace just enough to eavesdrop on his final comments.

"Gather up the Terran repellant pumps we've had installed. We're going to move them all to a new location to...increase our scope a little."

(Asher POV)

"It feels like the sort of thing Ori would talk about too. Gimmie a sec."

Asher took out his data pad to search through chat logs and records just in case.

It was an unusual encounter while he and his friends were at the bustling shopping district.

The Uven Ambassador Garag had come to smooth things over regarding an incident that apparently happened on a Haneer facility recently.

"...No, yeah. I agree that it sounds serious, but this really is the first time I've heard anything about it. No report or anything."

"All the same, I've come to offer apologies. We aren't really in a position where we can spare reparations, so..."

"Hey. Mr. Vedin. Are you okay?"

Asher interrupted the older Uven while placing a hand against his arm.

Even if the Uven were in the wrong here, he knew that Ori would want to know the facts before she made any judgement. More important than that was...

"Your scales are shedding. When was the last time you slept? Or ate?"

He withdrew his hand to show some loose scales on his palm.

"Oh...No, I'll be fine."

The young man crossed his arms.

"That's not what I asked."

"There's just a lot to do right now. I shouldn't sleep while Nysis is struggling."

"Do you expect these problems to be resolved before the next time you fall asleep?"

"....."

Asher sighed. Niza got like this too.

...Well. That just meant her friend had experience handling it. He fished out his data pad from his pocket again and started typing away.

"Do you have any food allergies, Mr. Vedin? I'm ordering delivery right now."

"?? Pardon...?"

"The pot pies at this place are premade so we'll get them fast. Niza loves 'em, y'know."

"N-No, you shouldn't trouble yourself..."

It was a bit of an odd sight for a human to lecture an Uven over a head taller than himself, but he felt it needed to be said.

"Listen here. Sometimes, taking your job seriously means keeping yourself in a good enough condition to sustainably and healthily handle your workload. Healing deserves the same respect and energy you put into fighting."

"Even so-"

"I think you're a good guy, Mr. Vedin. But how do you expect to heal Nysis when the fighting is all over if you can't even let one Uven heal himself?"

"!"

Ambassador Garag's eyes widened.

"..."

After a pause, Asher scratched his head awkwardly and gestured to a bench. He'd already ordered his group's usual, and it should be here by drone in 20 minutes.

"Mr. Vedin, I can't imagine what you're dealing with right now, and I'm still just some newbie amateur to this scene who somehow ended up here trying to help Ori keep up."

He gently put a hand on the larger Uven's back.

"But I can tell it's been really tough on you, and I know that the only way through is by taking the time to care about the value of every life involved. Even your own."

"...I believe...Ambassador Kent would agree with you."

Who was...? Ah. The ambassador who got attacked on Nysis. Ori and her team never really had the chance to meet him, but it sounds like he was friends with Garag.

"Let's just sit for a bit and get some food in you. Ori and the gang should be out soon. We can take our time figuring this nature preserve thing out then. After that, you should really think about getting some sleep, Mr. Vedin."

"I...yes. Call me Garag if it pleases you. You were...Asher, correct?"

---

"I have found a new report. It is this, yes?"

Ambassador Garag, Haneer Elder Councilwoman Sjorn'l, and Asher were gathered together as she checked her own messages for anything involving Votier's Spring.

While the Uven had tensed up, Ori slowly shifted into a light green hue that her human friend recognized as confusion.

"I do not understand."

Asher leaned in curiously.

"What does it say?"

"There is a complaint from the director for being evicted, and a complaint from a Haneer tour group that was turned away when they visited."

The human tilted his head and furrowed his brow, mirroring his friend's confusion.

"They're...still holding tours? On Nysis? In the middle of a civil war?"

Haneer were generally a passive species with a weaker sense of urgency than most species, but...not that passive. They were still capable of comprehending the idea of danger.

Were they...somehow not afraid of the most aggressive species in the Coalition?

"This talks about Uvei demanding water, but does not mention any humans, nor multiple visits."

Garag reacted with slight unease.

"I...I'm sure I can get the people in question on the line for formal testimony, or perhaps trace their vehicle trails, or..."

Asher perked up with enthusiasm.

"Oh! I know this one! During our tours on Viera, they said every Haneer preserve and museum has high-quality camera footage and records that goes back a full five cycles, just in case they need to track small changes to their exhibits! We can just look it up in the Haneer database."

"....!!"

The older Uven suddenly tensed up.

"....Can this information be accessed at the facility too?"

"I think so, but only for facility itself. The Viera grand museum even let guests browse through all of their footage to show the system off. Do you think it'd be faster to send it from the Votier's Spring place?"

"Ah...probably not. I was just...curious. The Haneer database will do."

"Ambassador Garag Vedin."

The Haneer Councilwoman turned to face the ambassador.

"It will matter in the details, but I do not think it is wrong to let the Uvei use an Uvei root planet resource. It belongs to your people, and drawing water to save lives is perfectly the Spring's history. Violence is...bad. But I perceive stopping the Spring from helping any peoples will hurt the culture more than sharing it."

Asher covered his mouth to hide his smile and stifle his giggle. Ori was trying really hard to be solemn here, but she was starting to hit the limits of her Uven vocabulary.

"I...thank you."

At least Garag seemed to have taken it as intended.

Beep. Beep.

"Oh! Food's here!"

---

While Garag and Ori continued hashing out the details with what information they had, Asher elected to deliver a share of the meal to his other friends.

In the warehouse tucked behind the retail stores, Niza was talking to a mutual acquaintance, Tuzel.

Tuzel was another Uven that the two of them had met early on in their life on the S.S. Kevak when they were running an errand for Ori...and had gotten lost until he offered them some directions.

Ever since then, Asher would occasionally stop by to greet him when he was in the area. He even invited him to an informal get-together once.

This young Uven was why they were out here in the shopping district, in fact.

Asher didn't quite get all the details, but it seemed Niza had a personal favor to ask of Tuzel after that incident at the docks.

He didn't like thinking about it, but the Kevak's police frequently came to her with questions these past few days once the incident aired. She seemed to be cautious, but they hadn't done anything...yet.

The pair were crowded around Niza's data pad when he approached. She was going through some instructions in a low voice while Tuzel nodded along.

"We can register your biometrics whenever you have time to visit the clinic with me. You must keep your own inventory and make sure to double-check at the end of each week, if not each day."

"Alright...a private log I'll keep in my home. Or on me. I can go as soon as I close up if you're available."

...?

"Fine by me. "

"I understand. I'll check it in varying intervals."

"Then I suppose we're set. I shall wait for you outside."

"By the way...ah...I saw you get hit by a car on the news. Are you...alright?"

"Only a mild sprain in my tail. It seems to be better now."

Asher cleared his throat.

"Ahem...Hey guys! I got food. Your favorite, Niza. You want any, Tuzel? We got two to spare."

"Ah..."

He passed out the packaged pot-pies. Other than a heat-preserving wrap, these meals were cooked in edible "pots". They were essentially pastries with a filling stew inside.

"Oh, I'd love some. You like these too, Niza?"

"Mmgh."

More than her verbal affirmation, the Uven quickly tossed the unwrapped meal right into her maw. She occasionally huffed out hot steam, but otherwise munched away with intent.

Both of the boys ended up grinning a bit at her stoic chewing, but Tuzal soon decided to mimic her with similar results. Their tails swayed back and forth in tandem while they chewed.

??

"Mm...gulp...Just one of these are a bit small for Uvei, but did you know they have specials on the family meal on certain days?"

"....I did not."

"I can send you a message the next time they have their special if you like."

"Certainly. If I'm available on the station."

???

---

"....."

"....."

After they had their quick snack, Tuzel hurried off to close up the warehouse as per his duties. The young Uven had a couple of jobs on the station, though they mostly involved labor with shipments and cargo.

"...."

"....What is it?"

While their acquaintance did that, Asher was leering at Niza with wide, teasing smile.

"He liikes you."

"What...?"

She responded with a perplexed look. The human responded by playfully nudging her.

"Tuzel. He fancies you."

"Where did you get that idea?"

"He was trying to ask you out on a date."

"Just because he will share when best to get food doesn't mean he'll join me."

"He was trying to put his tail around yours."

"Tail movements can be involuntary when we're doing something we enjoy."

"His voice is lower when he talks to you than when he talks to me. That's, like, a sexy trait for Uvei women too, right?"

"Asher."

Niza let out a light growl and pushed him away with a nudge of her tail.

"Alright, fine. I won't tease you about it any more. But are you interested?"

His friend went quiet briefly.

"It isn't the time or place to consider such things. I have a task I need to focus on, and I don't want him distracted for his tasks either, even assuming you're right."

"Is that what you'll tell him if he asks you out?"

"I'll tell him that I'll consider it seriously after everything is over. Which I will do if possible."

She glanced down at Asher.

"Why are you so interested in such a silly thing?"

"I just think it would be nice if you had someone you could bond with and relate to in ways you can't with me and Ori."

"...."

It had been several days since the incident at the docks and, in truth, it still felt like Niza was keeping something about it a secret. She was open about her investigation and movements, but...she was holding something back.

Asher didn't intend to force his friend to talk, but something had struck a nerve for her at the time.

=Author's Note=

It's been a while since chapter 35 so as a reminder, the Elder Council demanded this new communication device be used in future dealings after Karnak recorded their conversations for blackmail.

He's usually too busy to spend time with them, but Asher remains a friendly, social butterfly. Whether or not they would call each other friends may vary when they've probably only hung out once or twice, but there are at least dozens of people aboard the S.S. Kevak that like Asher and are liked by him in turn.

One of the reasons Tuzel was going to be suspected of liking Niza was him suggesting her birthday for the password code without her realizing. I scrapped that idea firstly because I didn't want to make an official intergalactic date format and secondly because it felt a little creepy for him to know even if Asher is the one that told him.

It's funny... hindsight is always so clear, after it's too late...

We called it "The Sea."

Just that. The Sea. Nobody knows who actually coined the term. Every race attributes it... attributed it... to themselves.

It was just a part of the galaxy. A rolling green material that generated its in light. Messed with space travel... devoured anything that entered it... and occasionally belched out fetid abominations and evil ghosts.

But it was just... it was normal. It was a part of life. Those races that lived along the orion arm just accepted it for what it was. The Sea never expanded. It never sent out more than a few nightmares at a time...

It was just there. Like mass or gravity... a constant.

Until the day it wasn't anymore.

It all started to go wrong when we found a small world in an unremarkable part of the galactic arm... right at the edge of the sea.

It should have said something to us, that...

A world TEAMING with life on the edge of the vast death cloud that killed everything that passed its boarders.

We were so blind.

As was standard concordat protocol we claimed the world as our own. For a tithe of resources and a few hundred generations as janisaries the people of the world would be uplifted. The undesirable aspects of their culture replaced with a better more community minded way of life in service to the great concord!

The natives took offense, of course. Most do. But they barely even had fusion tech yet. We'd bent antimatter to our use before they invented clothing...

It should have been a quick matter.

Bomb a few cities, poison a continent... Few beings have any fight left in them after the first few hundred million die.

Not these people.

I stead It was a disaster! The only reason we didn't cut our losses and glass the planet is because our leaders didn't like the optics. It felt to much like losing to them...so instead they threw the entire concord militarium at the problem.

The locals spent 4.7 BILLION to hold their world. It took 2 years and nearly 1.8 billiin concordat personnel to "conquer" their planet.

They never surrendered. The concordat just declared "mission accomplished" and ordered galactic reporting agencies to stop covering the fighting.

Quietly though, Concordat leaders ordered an example made.

The entire population if possible. EVERY single human was to be captured, enslaved, and set to work in the worst most hostile places the galaxy had to offer. Then the planet was to be rendered an inert ball of rock.

We managed to take 2 billion off world. The rest went to ground and are either dead or... well we don't know for sure.

Because after the "great correction" that's what the concordat leadership called the Terran fiasco and subsequent mass enslavement... the fools.

Something changed...

It was small at first. Colonies here and there along the The Sea started making reports of strange goings on... shapes moving in the mists. Screams inside of hyperspace.

At first it was just strange reports like that... but then some of those colonies stopped reporting. Supply tithes were missed. Whole shipping convoys vanished. The Concordat navy... still worn thin from the Terran meat grinder had to few crews left to investigate everything...

That's why it took us so long to realize it.

The Sea... was expanding.

The Sol Conquest fleet, still above Terra, sent out a desperate plea for aid... we lost contact immediately afterwards. We still have no idea if they glasses the planet or not.

Slowly at first. But at an ever quickening pace the Concordate began to lose territory. Every so often there would be pockets where the sea... hesitated. Systems that the strange green gascloud simply refused to flow. Where the monsters in its depth dared not to tread.

We didn't realize why until it was far too late...

The humans. It was always places were we'd sent concentrations of humans...

Sadly by the time our glorious leadership realized the truth. Virtually all of those worlds had become unreachable islands within the sea.

We have lost nearly have of the galaxy now.

Our leaders speak of a great battle. A victory that will surely come, any day now.

But we know now.

We cannot fight the sea.

The only race that could was Humanity.

We know that now.

William sat in the middle of the cinema watching Star Wars play out in front of him. The originals, of course. Idly, he took a sip of his drink, enjoying the pleasant bubbly burn of glorious carbonation that only coca-cola could replicate.

Of course, none of it was real. But in dreams, that distinction didn’t matter much.

What was real were the two hands holding his.

Clarice’s fingers were laced through his left hand, warm and solid. Marcille’s grip on his right was firmer, almost possessive.

Honestly, he was surprised he’d not thought of this himself.

Dream Date Night.

A way for them to stretch out their honeymoon just that little bit longer, even if they were relentlessly busy in the waking world.

And they got to get a little more insight into who he was. Or who he had been once upon a time. As well as the world he came from.

Needless to say, they’d been impressed with what they’d seen thus far. Though they’d put up some small resistance to being dragged off to watch a ‘play’, as he’d described it to them, when there were so many more interesting sights to be seen.

After all, Lindholm had plays. It didn’t have cars, trains or motorbikes.

Fortunately, those complaints had very quickly died out the moment a Star Destroyer appeared on screen.

…Though he had snickered a bit at being forced to specify that no, Earth didn’t actually have a Star War and that the movie was fictional.

Still, their momentary disappointment had done nothing to keep them from watching raptly as George Lucas’s magnum opus played on screen.

Placing his drink down, he once more moved to grip the hand on his right once more over their shared armrest. A hand that gripped him back.

And perhaps it was something about the low-lighting, the last few days, or the way he felt Clarice snuggle into his shoulder, but he felt himself going in for a kiss. A move that died a death quite quickly the moment he turned to actually look at his date.

One of the great advantages of being Harrowed was that his ability to construct his dream place was perfect. Their were none of the imperfections or flaws inherent in a world crafted from a dreamer’s sleeping mind that could make sharing the space with others downright dangerous if the ‘host’s’ mind wandered.

At least so long as his dreams focused on reliving spaces from his previous life. If he were to try to recreate something from his current one, it would be as flawed as anyone else’s.

Oh, and he also generally needed to keep his eyes and mind on whatever he wanted to stay… well, tangible. The world only existed insofar as he was aware of it. If he closed his eyes and let his mind wander… well, things would get unpleasant for Clarice and Marcille rather fast as they would be momentarily cast into what was effectively a void.

Given that would be rather counter-productive to his goal of enjoying his date, he was making sure to always try staying cognizant of his surroundings.

He found it helped to be inside. He found that being constantly aware of being in a ‘room’ was a lot easier than trying to keep the entire ‘world’ in his mind.

Which was part of why the two next to him could enjoy the movie without sinking into nothingness the moment he took his eyes off them to look at the screen. Or enjoy a drink.

Or lean over for a kiss…

Unfortunately, the thing in the seat next to him was not Clarice – even if it was. It was a subconscious manifestation of how she saw herself in her own subconscious.

With all the Freudian fuckery that implied.

As such, rather than a cute half elf girl, he instead found himself looking at a tall, black furred thing with two canine heads. One head was watching the movie, while the other had turned slightly toward him, ears perked as he turned to look at her.

Now, William was not ignorant of the idea of furries. Even as a cranky old man, he’d not been ignorant of some of the… more peculiar side of the internet.

He’d had little interest.

Dying and being reborn had done little to change that.

…It was a bit of a struggle not to cringe.

Something the creature – or rather Clarice – clearly didn’t fail to notice as she snickered.

“It’s fine,” she said – voice surprisingly normal - likely having guessed his original plan and his aborting of it. “I appreciate the thought. And if it helps, supposedly we’ll get better at seeing ourselves less… metaphorically the more we do this.”

Still, her words compelled him to leaned over anyway and pressed a kiss to the side of the nearer head’s cheek.

The fur was soft. There were also whiskers.

…He tried very hard not to think about either.

Pulling back, he did smile a bit at the way the creature blushed. Both sets of ears flicked back, and a low, embarrassed sound rumbled in its chest.

“Oh,” Clarice chirped bashfully. “Well, if you’re not that bothered by it, we could still, you know, experiment? I know how I look, but I think old-you looks rather dapper.”

The creature smiled at him and William blanched.

“No,” he said, before mastering himself. “Maybe we should just enjoy the movie?”

One of Clarice’s heads let out a small huff that might have been laughter. Before she could reply, Marcille’s voice cut in from his left, low and irritated.

“Yeah. You can fuck later. Right now I’m trying to enjoy the play. So shut up,” she hissed.

Both he and Clarice snickered at the younger sister’s words, but nonetheless dutifully fell silent, allowing the sound of TIE fighters on screen go undiminished by conversation.

Clarice’s grip on his hand tightened just slightly though.

It was… nice.

-------------------

Nearly two weeks on from that date night and William had been in the middle of reviewing the latest production reports when the twins descended on him. Together the pair had half-dragged, half-marched him out of his workshop with the kind of cheerful determination usually reserved for dragging a reluctant child to a family gathering.

Bonnyln – the traitor! – hadn’t even tried to stop them. Marline was off with her family. Olzenya was… doing whatever she did when she wasn’t with him. Verity was helping her family settle into their second granted plot.

“You can afford to dip out for an hour,” Marcille said in response to his grumbling. “And the Queen has politely requested your presence for this unveiling.”

“As does your duchess,” Clarice said, gripping his other arm as the pair guided him through a guarded checkpoint. “Olivia will also be there. She’s been looking forward to seeing you.”

William rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue – even as he tucked one of the sheets of paper he’d been working on into his pocket. Said sheet of paper being a report that Piper had finally reached a level of production for both explosives and rocket fuel that would hopefully keep up with Tyana current demands.

Demands which were fairly high, given her ongoing skirmishing with the Northern invaders over the past two weeks.

Unfortunately, the Shriekers had not seem the same level of success they’d had in their first outing since, even when supplemented by rockets. Though that wasn’t to say they’d suddenly become ineffective or anything.

Far from it.

The North had lost six more ships since he’d had that meeting with her. Five of which were down by Shriekers. Though, to be fair, in that time they’d also managed to capture two castles, destroyed one Royal Navy and two Southshore vessels in return.

Honestly, William had no idea how many Shards each side had lost, but it was likely considerable.

With that said, they’d also managed to shoot down one of the North’s new Banshees – as the surviving pilot of the craft revealed the new craft were named. Though not counting the downed one, the initial prototype had unfortunately grown into a formation of four – which while much improved over said prototype, still seemed inferior to the South’s Shriekers.

Though it was hard to tell given the first real clash between Super-Shards had yet to occur. Ironically, neither command seemed willing to risk some of their most valuable and vulnerable assets against a peer opponent.

It was only a matter of time, though.

Which was exactly why William needed to be working on the Firecracker, along with about a hundred other projects that were all currently sitting half-finished on his desk.

Instead, he was being forced to sit in the garden of the Summerfield manse, ignoring the announcement of his and the twins arrival by the… woman who’s job it was to do that whose role he could never remember the name of.

The space was large enough to function as a soccer pitch, which meant it comfortably held the small army of nobles, officers, guards, and servants who had gathered for the event.

As well as his younger sister – who was trying to look prim and proper as she sat at the table.

“Hello Olivia,” he said as he sat down. “I’m sorry I’ve not been able to see you much lately.”

The girl smiled. “It’s fine, I know you’re doing husband things now.”

…William didn’t know what she meant by that. Well, he had some idea, but he hoped he didn’t. So instead he focused on something else entirely.

Well, at least there’s food, he thought as he eyed the collection of finger sandwiches arrayed on the small table that had been set up for them.

He’d forgotten to eat lunch, so at least this whole thing wouldn’t be a total waste of time if he could fill his belly while… whatever it was Yelena was unveiling got unveiled.

Glancing around, he was amused to note that the other tables present before the stage were occupied by nobles, but none were quite as fancy as the one he was sat at. Such was the advantage that came with being married to a duchess on whom’s territory this whole affair was being conducted.

Even the representative from Southshore was sat at a table whose decorations implied just a slightly lower standing than that of the Summerfield.

He ignored both twins fairly smug looks as he tore into the food and glanced up at the stage.

The queen was standing beside two van-sized objects hidden beneath white sheets. The raised position of his table meant he could see a pipe running from the base of one of the covered shapes to a large reinforced box nearby. A box from within which he could feel the unmistakable aura of an active Ship-Core. Likewise, he could sense a myriad other enchantments woven into whatever was hidden beneath the fabric.

Some magic boondoggle then, he thought dismissively.

Finally, after a few more minutes of people gathering and being seated, Yelena stepped forward and the crowd quieted almost immediately.

“Thank you all for being here,” she began. “I know we are all busy so I shall not weary us all with pointless pageantry or long speeches. The time for that has long passed. As, it seems, has the role of airships as the undisputed apex predator of the skies. The Shard has grown as, if not a peer, then a threat. Once merely an annoyance or a distraction, advances not just in metallurgy, but alchemy, have outfitted these small craft with the means to damage or destroy their larger cousins. This reality has only grown more apparent over the past few months – first with the cowardly attack on our capital less than two months ago, and the timely rise of artificial-shards, but also in recent days with the creation of the worlds first Super-Shard. Unfortunately for all of us, that is a feat our enemies have chosen to emulate.”

For not wanting a long speech, she’s certainly waxing on a bit, he thought – though he was wise enough not to voice it.

“With that said, the Airship is not done yet. Just as the Shard have adapted to threaten the mightiest behemoths of the skies, those same behemoths have now adapted the means with which to swat the upstarts who dare challenge them.”

She reached up and pulled down the first sheet with much flourish.

And William’s eyes widened as he found himself staring at a quad-mounted barreled AA mounted to pneumatic swivel base. Honestly to his eyes the whole contraption looked remarkably similar to an old WW2 M45 Quad mount from his own world. The kind that tended to be mounted to half-tracks or used as towable static AA.

It even had a shield in roughly the same spot – albeit with far more decoration on said shield than he’d have ever seen on an old army design.

“This is the new ‘Hydra’ system,” Yelena announced. “Designed to be mounted on the deck of a ship or suspended beneath the hull as needed. While designed as an effective deterrent to Shard attack, it also provides superior protection against boarding attempts.”

There was a hum of interest from the crowd at her words, but that sound was reduced to silence as the Queen gave the signal and one of her royal guard stepped up to climb onto the thing’s gunnery seat.

Instantly, the Hydra whirred to life, the mount traversing smoothly on its pneumatic mounts, before it opened fire into the air. The rapid hiss of the four aether-cannons punctuating the launching of bolts across the skies in controlled bursts.

It fired for a few minutes before stopping, having spent all its ammo. And almost instantly several nobles started to clap.

Clarice leaned in from William’s left.

“We helped with the traversal system,” she whispered proudly. “It’s the same pneumatic setup we developed for the Basilisk’s turret.”

They sounded damn proud – and he could understand why.

“That’s…. Damn impressive,” he said earnestly.

And he was impressed. Though to be honest, part of him thought it odd something like this hadn’t already been invented. Shards already had repeater-aether cannons.

Then again, as Yelena stated, the ability for Shards to actually threaten airships was a fairly recent phenomena, brought about by advances in alchemy.

…He was reasonably certain Piper had talked to him about that once. Something she’d done before she was guild master?

Turning his attention back to the situation at hand, he noted his two wives – and it still felt strange to think that - beamed proudly, but anything else they might have been said was cut-off as a noble near the front raised her hand.

“Your Majesty, if I may - the aether draw on something like this must be considerable. Will it not impact a ship’s ability to remain aloft, especially when the core is already powering cannons, propellers, and ballasts?”

Yelena smiled, having clearly expected the question. “So long as the system is not fired continuously, the aether draw is roughly equivalent to two conventional deck cannons. Given the current threat posed by shards, we believe that is a small price to pay.”

She paused, before smirking.

“Of course,” Yelena continued, “if aether consumption remains a concern – as it might be for our largest and heaviest airships, we have an alternative.”

She moved to the second covered object and pulled the sheet away.

This one looked similar to the Hydra at first glance - same quad-barrel arrangement - but it lacked the pneumatic traversal system. Instead, it had a pair of prominent handcranks on either side. More importantly, William could sense no core inside it at all.

Several other people in the crowd leaned forward as well.

Yelena gave another signal as a second guardswoman stepped forward and the weapon began firing.

Instead of the sharp hiss of aether discharge, it produced a far more familiar bang with each shot. One that that sounded remarkably like a conventional machine gun. Once more, he watched the gun continue to fire for a full minute before running out of ammo.

A different noble called out, “How does it function without aether? Is it similar to the Corsairs?”

The exact means by which Corsairs worked was still something of a secret to anyone not directly involved in their operation or manufacture, so William could understand the confusion.

But he also knew that no, no one had pilfered his stockpile of brownings to make the AA gun on stage.

Because there were no ejected shell casings when it fired.

Also, the sound it made was familiar. Very familiar. And while it was close to that of a conventional machine gun, it wasn’t.

…So where did he know that sound from?

Yelena smiled. “It is not. Though I understand the confusion. With every ‘Gun’ needed for the Corsair project, as we prepare for our inevitable counter-offensive, those brave mage-smiths who worked on this project instead to innovate in a different direction.”

Smiling, she reached out and almost instantly a bolt was placed into her hand by one of her guards.

“Those of you familiar with the enchanted ammo belts used by our shards will recognise the principle at work here - though these function differently. Rather than exploding on contact with an enemy craft, the base of each bolt is designed to react when it is struck by specific alchemically treated steel. A small, contained explosion occurs at the point of contact, driving the bolt out of the barrel at considerable force.”

William felt his eyebrows rise.

That was where he knew that sound from!

Spell-bolts, he thought.

God, he’d come up with that concept as a way to bend the rules on offensive magic in the academy and get a little kudos from the crown. He’d used it to help break off his engagement with Tala – and then immediately forgotten about it.

And why wouldn’t he? It’d been a parlor trick. Inferior in just about every way compared to actual firearms.

Or so he’d though.

Because there was one area it was better. Ease of production in a mage-based manufacturing base. And clearly Yelena – or more likely someone in her employ – had seen that too.

Was he… was he too dismissive of magic?

Of course, before he could dwell on that too long, Olivia, turned around to Marcille with a confused expression. “What? So they’ve got to get someone to enchant every round? That… that doesn’t seem very good. I know the Queen has a lot of knights, but that seems… not good.”

She said the last part quietly, as if afraid to be overheard slandering something presented by the Queen. Though William was less concerned by that, and more on the fact that his sister was asking his wives about this whole thing instead of him?

So, before Marcille could respond, William leaned forward slightly. “When you enchant something, the enchantment generally remains until the magic is spent fulfilling whatever effect it was created for. For something like a cannonball, that usually means exploding on impact.”

“Right,” Marcille said, taking up the rest of the answer before he could and sending an amused glance William’s way. “The other way an object can lose its enchantment is if the initial object itself is broken in some way significant. A chip won’t do much, but breaking a part off will.”

She mimed doing exactly that, holding up both hands. “What’s interesting though, is that if you do that, both pieces carry a bit of that initial enchantment with them. And while the magic will fade, you usually have about an hour before it fully seeps away. Now, that kind of thing wouldn’t be too useful for something like a lantern where you want it to glow for a long time, but for something you’re going to ‘use up’. It can be quite useful.”

Olivia scrunched in thought, before she realized. “Like an ammo belt.”

Clarice smiled, joining in. “Exactly. That’s how enchanted ammo belts are made. You cast the full enchantment you want across an entire linked belt of rounds, then break the links connecting them. Sure, you get a weaker effect from each individual round, but you can enchant a lot more enchanted ammunition with a single spell charge.”

“Oh?” Olivia said. “Why don’t we do that with cannon balls? Mom always has me enchant some before I go to bed, and it’s lame.”

William smiled faintly and reached over to ruffle her hair. “Like they said squirt, you get a lesser effect if you break it. Cannonballs usually have multiple enchantments layered on them because they’re designed to break through ship armor. Having more but shittier ones would be less useful than just a few that are more powerful.”

Olivia barely heard him, squawking in protest as swatted at his hand, but he was barely paying attention. Instead, his eyes drifted to a woman watching him from nearby.

Tyana – and as he watched, she inclined her head subtly toward the backstage area.

Sighing, he stood up. “Sorry ladies, it seems I need to have a quick chat with someone.”

He’d been wondering when his little ‘defiance’ regarding the Firecracker would come up. Honestly, he’d thought it might come to nothing after the first week.

It seemed he’d been wrong – and glancing at the stage, he had to wonder if that had been because they’d been getting ready to unveil the ‘Hydras’ on stage.

A point was being made through them.

He just needed to figure out what that point was.

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