[X] ...trapped in the capital, overseeing and in charge of the re-development of magic and enlightened martial traditions; your theoretical grounding as a sacrifice making you an invaluable expert.
[X] ...sent away from the capital on a mission, hunting down rumors of powers and forgotten knowledge, using your growing seer powers to help guide you.
TwistedJester
Tired Lurker King
- Location
- Hell
[X] ...sent away from the capital on a mission, hunting down rumors of powers and forgotten knowledge, using your growing seer powers to help guide you.
A brand new Dawn
- Pronouns
- They/Them
You stare over the railing of the Emprise, the same ship that took you to the capital, at the clear water swiftly coursing past beneath you. The Shallow Ocean is so called because, for almost all of its breadth, it's very true. When the water is at its clearest and the light hits it just right, you can see all the way to the ocean floor. Colorful reefs, darting fish, whole forests and jungles of various seaweed, and more are there, a constant visual assault on the senses. Islands mostly rose relatively sharply from the ocean floor, allowing for easier harbors than in places beyond the Shallow Ocean.
That isn't to say that travel is easy. Ridges and depths, currents and wind patterns, not to mention simple distance, all conspire to make travel anything from time-consuming to frustrating to dangerous. You've only ever been a passenger on any of these sea voyages, of course, and rarely had the best understanding of it, save for the actuarial odds and the calendar days it would take. Those are the numbers, not the experience, and numbers have always come easily to you. You keep looking as something a little larger darts into view, and then vanishes into the deep. It was tuna-sized, not that you are sure it was actually any variety of tuna.
So far, your trip has been easy. Although Captain Banu had always disdained the use of a shipmage (or, more likely, it hadn't ever been economically worth it), she's been happy to have your delegation on board.
Paris, the elementalist who had come with Councilor Omar, has turned out to be a tremendous help. Not only do they spend what time and energy they have shaping the wind to help speed the Emprise along, but their other elemental command is poison, which is perfect for keeping food store free of vermin.
It's probably not chance that the Regency Council wanted you to go hunting for new powers. You've already demonstrated a penchant for it. Three times over so far, you've pulled an unexpected superhuman power out of the hat. By now, they're ready to call it a skill.
They may not even be wrong. You've been practicing what you can of sharpening your divination powers, just in case some unconscious use of that has been to blame. It hasn't helped yet.
You've found a vast amount of natural beauty, heard a lot of wild rumors, paid a couple of coins to see a dead dragon (from a safe enough distance that you didn't have to smell it) in a rocky field in the middle of nowhere, and otherwise wasted a lot of time with little to show for it.
Well, you did get a lot of dragon parts, now stowed in the Emprise's hold. Apparently dragon parts have plenty of use in magic item creation, which is not a field you know. Zahira paid with Council money and seemed incredibly pleased with her haul. The farmer who sold you the parts cackled openly and immediately ran off to tell 'Viviendra' (apparently his daughter) that he was going to throw her 'a hell of a wedding'. The dragon didn't care one way or the other, and Samir got voluntold to do the actual butchering, preserving, and packing, which was exactly the way he preferred to engage with a large monster. All in all, everyone was satisfied with how it played out.
Apart from that, though, you've stopped at five islands without a lot of results, in most cases stopping at two or three places around it. You've met a couple of wily older folks who still have a trick under their belt, along with half a dozen wannabe heroes with less to work with than you had, all of whom haven't found anything genuinely superhuman yet.
Frankly, it's getting a little dull.
Banu comes up next to you. You make space on the railing for her to join you. It's not like there was any shortage, but the symbol is there. "You've changed, you know, since the last time you were on my ship."
"I didn't realize you were paying attention, then."
"A gaggle of armed weirdoes led by a bland-faced, quiet man? And who were clearly supposed to be dead by the burgundy tunics half of them wore? I don't get profit off of being stupid about my passengers." She gives you a quick smirk, to show there was no actual ill intent.
"And we're not a 'gaggle of armed weirdoes' any more?" It was a pretty apt characterization, you force yourself to admit internally.
"No, and it's not just changing who's with you. You're much more self-assured. It's a nice change. As you are now, I'm pretty sure I can rely on you, that you might actually help if we are attacked by a monster, spirit, or pirate. And I get a free shipmage out of it as long as you're chartering the Emprise."
Banu twists to look at the back--stern, right, Samir will be smug at you if you don't use more accurate language--of the vessel. Paris stands there, unmoving, an aura of intense concentration around them as they force the winds to blow as desired, forcing the Emprise more directly to her next destination. Paris can't maintain the magical flow all day, of course, so usually it's just an hour or at most two a day that they do that, but it's still enough to shave a day off a week's voyage, at least. Most of the time, anyway; luck or a good plan will still allow the ship to catch winds nearly-perfectly, even without magical assistance.
Paris is still a hard person to get a read on. In the tight confines of the ship, they mostly keep to themselves, so you still haven't gotten a good look at the person beneath the mask. They only push it aside a bit to eat, and a chin doesn't add much more to your understanding of the mage. They speak when spoken to, but so far that's always been comparatively brusque. It doesn't feel like they're trying to be difficult, so much as that they're someone who is just naturally distant.
Zahira and Samir join you, as well. Zahira is scowling, carrying a flake off a dragon scale in one hand and a large book in the other. Samir is wearing a broad, but not nice, grin. Banu excuses herself. Samir gives you a big grin. "Guess what Zahira just messed up?"
"My theory was fine! Talib was wrong. It just didn't work this time. We have lots more dragon scales." Zahira glares at Samir, who is not at all abashed by this.
She looks back at you, sobering up a bit. "More seriously, this was actually a useful experiment. I'm kind of going at this ass-backwards, trying to glean principles of tome magic I can use to make magical items instead of mastering spells and then putting them down. This wasn't a failure; it just wasn't a complete success. I did manage to shape a spell into the scale, which worked as it should have. I just... well, I sort of have an affinity for fire. So I worked with that, and then put a little too much energy flow through it and things sort of... melted."
Zahira pauses, and glances at Samir. His grin does not diminish. She continues. "It won't happen again, because I don't need to confirm that that works again. I know it does. It's a big first step. And remember: I control fire. Fires can't burn around me unless I let them, so there was no danger or anything. And I'm pretty sure no one will notice anything." You feel a certain mounting sense of dread as Zahira's excuses begin to outweigh the rest of the story. "There is a very small possibility that someone may notice a scorch mark, though. And Samir was going to tell the captain himself, but I said he could have my rum ration for a couple days if he didn't. And he said that was a good start."
She bats her eyes at you. "Long story short, you don't mind giving up your rum ration, too, right? It's for a good cause. I'm going to be able to learn a lot of really useful things if this keeps up."
You sigh. Even when there's not much going on, it does sometimes seem like your days keep busy.
While you're on this voyage, before you find the Genesis Spring that will lead you to some further issues, you have time to spend a little extra time with two of your companions on the voyage.
[] Zahira
[] Samir
[] Banu
[] Paris
- -
You are Dawn, and you feel like you're finally waking up after a long nightmare.
You are Dawn, first high priestess of the strongest spirit and likely first god of the revived Empire of the Shallow Ocean.
You are Dawn, neonate elementalist... but already one of the mightiest of your kind. Rivers pulse in in your veins with every heartbeat, and inferno crackles in your nerves with every gesture.
The nightmare was a long and hard one. In the face of your inevitable death, a black miracle struck down your old god and his angels, instead.
You were adrift. Luckily, despite your companions being mostly myopic, your nominal boss stepped up, putting his merchant-like tendency to consider advantages and costs to work. He found a path that positioned you where you needed to be, though not without some bumps along the way.
That's how you've gotten where you are now. Finally, you're where you're supposed to be. Azer's voice floats out of the crystal in your hands. You file away the details without really processing them. When things are in their proper place, everything works smoothly. Right now, that means you have to act as Azer's voice in all the Regency Council meetings.
The crystal is one of the finest new pieces created by new magical artisans here in the capital, though it was a fairly mundane piece before the Great Dying: it lets a specific, connected seer speak to and be heard by the one holding the crystal. At pre-arranged times, you and Azer talk. You thus control the only reliable, instant link between Azer and the others on the Emprise and you and everyone else in the capital.
In the past few weeks, things have gone... surprisingly well. Ant has forged some basic Contracts with you, including the honestly line she previously technically fully extended to Azer.
Ant hasn't been too wildly intractable. You just trained her like you would a pet dog. When she's doing things you like, she can come out of her prison, talk to people (under supervision) and even engage in a little light play.
As Ant had first said shortly after your meeting, a sports game could be enough to satisfy her, at least a little bit and in the short term. She's helped train Admiral General Hobi's men, serving as a target for them to practice formation fighting against a physically large and powerful single foe, and she did not give them anything worse than a nasty bruise in the process. She's also developed a clear fondness for the children who come to services, playing a weekly ball game against all comers. Inevitably, Ant 'loses' as some child who has been giving it their all manages to score a single point against the nascent goddess.
Plenty of parents were very dubious at first about letting their children compete against a giant, kraken-slaying spirit with unsettling teeth and a predilection towards violent sentiments, but Ant agreed to restrictive conditions that meant she wouldn't be able to try anything. You're no longer sure if they're still necessary, but you don't see any reason to check if you're wrong. Over time, exposure and the fact that she didn't do anything untoward warmed most parents to Ant.
That's not to say that everything has been perfect, however. Your subordinate priesthood is still mostly strangers you can barely attach a name and face to; they were taken from a few volunteers from among the former priests (and the next generation of what would have been groomed to be Tal-Roshath's sacrifices), none of whom you knew before the Great Dying, so you're still learning who you have under you now. So far, there haven't been any notably terrible matches, but you are keeping an eye out for that sort of disharmony. With Azer out of town, the closest thing you have to a friend is Kalju, and the silent spearman is still spending time with his new girlfriend. You haven't seen him save for a couple of times in the Temple, where he sat at the back and frowned at what you had to say in the day's teaching. He didn't stick around afterward, so you haven't had a chance to speak to him.
You're sure he'll get over whatever is bothering him. After all, he did agree to try to tame Ant, to make her into a more-benevolent goddess. You were only able to bend Ant's nature so far when creating a theology to ask for worshipers to follow, though. You had a few options on how to shape things, though. Your own elemental powers reflect somewhat through your Contacts, meaning that the ever-malleable Ant could start to show some strength as a fire or water god, should you choose. Regardless, though, Ant could not be immediately asked to be an entirely new being; your choice of key theological planks had to reflect something of her nature or the energy of worship would dissipate, not finding an appropriate receptacle to empower.
How have you shaped Ant's theology?
[] The seas roar and crash, but to a purpose: it is by harnessing their fury that we speed along and maintain our civilization.
[] Fire consumes, but it also tempers and purifies. We tame its might to push ourselves towards perfect.
[] The strongest rule, and use that rule to protect those with them, as is right and proper.
[] Write-in.
- -
Sorry about the delay, again. Things have been hectic and I've been sick. All of today's votes are independent. I'm hopeful that this split viewpoint will enable a different but interesting story here. It's only going to be Dawn and Azer for the moment, though; Dawn is the only companion who got everything she wanted in arc 1, after all.
That isn't to say that travel is easy. Ridges and depths, currents and wind patterns, not to mention simple distance, all conspire to make travel anything from time-consuming to frustrating to dangerous. You've only ever been a passenger on any of these sea voyages, of course, and rarely had the best understanding of it, save for the actuarial odds and the calendar days it would take. Those are the numbers, not the experience, and numbers have always come easily to you. You keep looking as something a little larger darts into view, and then vanishes into the deep. It was tuna-sized, not that you are sure it was actually any variety of tuna.
So far, your trip has been easy. Although Captain Banu had always disdained the use of a shipmage (or, more likely, it hadn't ever been economically worth it), she's been happy to have your delegation on board.
Paris, the elementalist who had come with Councilor Omar, has turned out to be a tremendous help. Not only do they spend what time and energy they have shaping the wind to help speed the Emprise along, but their other elemental command is poison, which is perfect for keeping food store free of vermin.
It's probably not chance that the Regency Council wanted you to go hunting for new powers. You've already demonstrated a penchant for it. Three times over so far, you've pulled an unexpected superhuman power out of the hat. By now, they're ready to call it a skill.
They may not even be wrong. You've been practicing what you can of sharpening your divination powers, just in case some unconscious use of that has been to blame. It hasn't helped yet.
You've found a vast amount of natural beauty, heard a lot of wild rumors, paid a couple of coins to see a dead dragon (from a safe enough distance that you didn't have to smell it) in a rocky field in the middle of nowhere, and otherwise wasted a lot of time with little to show for it.
Well, you did get a lot of dragon parts, now stowed in the Emprise's hold. Apparently dragon parts have plenty of use in magic item creation, which is not a field you know. Zahira paid with Council money and seemed incredibly pleased with her haul. The farmer who sold you the parts cackled openly and immediately ran off to tell 'Viviendra' (apparently his daughter) that he was going to throw her 'a hell of a wedding'. The dragon didn't care one way or the other, and Samir got voluntold to do the actual butchering, preserving, and packing, which was exactly the way he preferred to engage with a large monster. All in all, everyone was satisfied with how it played out.
Apart from that, though, you've stopped at five islands without a lot of results, in most cases stopping at two or three places around it. You've met a couple of wily older folks who still have a trick under their belt, along with half a dozen wannabe heroes with less to work with than you had, all of whom haven't found anything genuinely superhuman yet.
Frankly, it's getting a little dull.
Banu comes up next to you. You make space on the railing for her to join you. It's not like there was any shortage, but the symbol is there. "You've changed, you know, since the last time you were on my ship."
"I didn't realize you were paying attention, then."
"A gaggle of armed weirdoes led by a bland-faced, quiet man? And who were clearly supposed to be dead by the burgundy tunics half of them wore? I don't get profit off of being stupid about my passengers." She gives you a quick smirk, to show there was no actual ill intent.
"And we're not a 'gaggle of armed weirdoes' any more?" It was a pretty apt characterization, you force yourself to admit internally.
"No, and it's not just changing who's with you. You're much more self-assured. It's a nice change. As you are now, I'm pretty sure I can rely on you, that you might actually help if we are attacked by a monster, spirit, or pirate. And I get a free shipmage out of it as long as you're chartering the Emprise."
Banu twists to look at the back--stern, right, Samir will be smug at you if you don't use more accurate language--of the vessel. Paris stands there, unmoving, an aura of intense concentration around them as they force the winds to blow as desired, forcing the Emprise more directly to her next destination. Paris can't maintain the magical flow all day, of course, so usually it's just an hour or at most two a day that they do that, but it's still enough to shave a day off a week's voyage, at least. Most of the time, anyway; luck or a good plan will still allow the ship to catch winds nearly-perfectly, even without magical assistance.
Paris is still a hard person to get a read on. In the tight confines of the ship, they mostly keep to themselves, so you still haven't gotten a good look at the person beneath the mask. They only push it aside a bit to eat, and a chin doesn't add much more to your understanding of the mage. They speak when spoken to, but so far that's always been comparatively brusque. It doesn't feel like they're trying to be difficult, so much as that they're someone who is just naturally distant.
Zahira and Samir join you, as well. Zahira is scowling, carrying a flake off a dragon scale in one hand and a large book in the other. Samir is wearing a broad, but not nice, grin. Banu excuses herself. Samir gives you a big grin. "Guess what Zahira just messed up?"
"My theory was fine! Talib was wrong. It just didn't work this time. We have lots more dragon scales." Zahira glares at Samir, who is not at all abashed by this.
She looks back at you, sobering up a bit. "More seriously, this was actually a useful experiment. I'm kind of going at this ass-backwards, trying to glean principles of tome magic I can use to make magical items instead of mastering spells and then putting them down. This wasn't a failure; it just wasn't a complete success. I did manage to shape a spell into the scale, which worked as it should have. I just... well, I sort of have an affinity for fire. So I worked with that, and then put a little too much energy flow through it and things sort of... melted."
Zahira pauses, and glances at Samir. His grin does not diminish. She continues. "It won't happen again, because I don't need to confirm that that works again. I know it does. It's a big first step. And remember: I control fire. Fires can't burn around me unless I let them, so there was no danger or anything. And I'm pretty sure no one will notice anything." You feel a certain mounting sense of dread as Zahira's excuses begin to outweigh the rest of the story. "There is a very small possibility that someone may notice a scorch mark, though. And Samir was going to tell the captain himself, but I said he could have my rum ration for a couple days if he didn't. And he said that was a good start."
She bats her eyes at you. "Long story short, you don't mind giving up your rum ration, too, right? It's for a good cause. I'm going to be able to learn a lot of really useful things if this keeps up."
You sigh. Even when there's not much going on, it does sometimes seem like your days keep busy.
While you're on this voyage, before you find the Genesis Spring that will lead you to some further issues, you have time to spend a little extra time with two of your companions on the voyage.
[] Zahira
[] Samir
[] Banu
[] Paris
- -
You are Dawn, and you feel like you're finally waking up after a long nightmare.
You are Dawn, first high priestess of the strongest spirit and likely first god of the revived Empire of the Shallow Ocean.
You are Dawn, neonate elementalist... but already one of the mightiest of your kind. Rivers pulse in in your veins with every heartbeat, and inferno crackles in your nerves with every gesture.
The nightmare was a long and hard one. In the face of your inevitable death, a black miracle struck down your old god and his angels, instead.
You were adrift. Luckily, despite your companions being mostly myopic, your nominal boss stepped up, putting his merchant-like tendency to consider advantages and costs to work. He found a path that positioned you where you needed to be, though not without some bumps along the way.
That's how you've gotten where you are now. Finally, you're where you're supposed to be. Azer's voice floats out of the crystal in your hands. You file away the details without really processing them. When things are in their proper place, everything works smoothly. Right now, that means you have to act as Azer's voice in all the Regency Council meetings.
The crystal is one of the finest new pieces created by new magical artisans here in the capital, though it was a fairly mundane piece before the Great Dying: it lets a specific, connected seer speak to and be heard by the one holding the crystal. At pre-arranged times, you and Azer talk. You thus control the only reliable, instant link between Azer and the others on the Emprise and you and everyone else in the capital.
In the past few weeks, things have gone... surprisingly well. Ant has forged some basic Contracts with you, including the honestly line she previously technically fully extended to Azer.
Ant hasn't been too wildly intractable. You just trained her like you would a pet dog. When she's doing things you like, she can come out of her prison, talk to people (under supervision) and even engage in a little light play.
As Ant had first said shortly after your meeting, a sports game could be enough to satisfy her, at least a little bit and in the short term. She's helped train Admiral General Hobi's men, serving as a target for them to practice formation fighting against a physically large and powerful single foe, and she did not give them anything worse than a nasty bruise in the process. She's also developed a clear fondness for the children who come to services, playing a weekly ball game against all comers. Inevitably, Ant 'loses' as some child who has been giving it their all manages to score a single point against the nascent goddess.
Plenty of parents were very dubious at first about letting their children compete against a giant, kraken-slaying spirit with unsettling teeth and a predilection towards violent sentiments, but Ant agreed to restrictive conditions that meant she wouldn't be able to try anything. You're no longer sure if they're still necessary, but you don't see any reason to check if you're wrong. Over time, exposure and the fact that she didn't do anything untoward warmed most parents to Ant.
That's not to say that everything has been perfect, however. Your subordinate priesthood is still mostly strangers you can barely attach a name and face to; they were taken from a few volunteers from among the former priests (and the next generation of what would have been groomed to be Tal-Roshath's sacrifices), none of whom you knew before the Great Dying, so you're still learning who you have under you now. So far, there haven't been any notably terrible matches, but you are keeping an eye out for that sort of disharmony. With Azer out of town, the closest thing you have to a friend is Kalju, and the silent spearman is still spending time with his new girlfriend. You haven't seen him save for a couple of times in the Temple, where he sat at the back and frowned at what you had to say in the day's teaching. He didn't stick around afterward, so you haven't had a chance to speak to him.
You're sure he'll get over whatever is bothering him. After all, he did agree to try to tame Ant, to make her into a more-benevolent goddess. You were only able to bend Ant's nature so far when creating a theology to ask for worshipers to follow, though. You had a few options on how to shape things, though. Your own elemental powers reflect somewhat through your Contacts, meaning that the ever-malleable Ant could start to show some strength as a fire or water god, should you choose. Regardless, though, Ant could not be immediately asked to be an entirely new being; your choice of key theological planks had to reflect something of her nature or the energy of worship would dissipate, not finding an appropriate receptacle to empower.
How have you shaped Ant's theology?
[] The seas roar and crash, but to a purpose: it is by harnessing their fury that we speed along and maintain our civilization.
[] Fire consumes, but it also tempers and purifies. We tame its might to push ourselves towards perfect.
[] The strongest rule, and use that rule to protect those with them, as is right and proper.
[] Write-in.
- -
Sorry about the delay, again. Things have been hectic and I've been sick. All of today's votes are independent. I'm hopeful that this split viewpoint will enable a different but interesting story here. It's only going to be Dawn and Azer for the moment, though; Dawn is the only companion who got everything she wanted in arc 1, after all.
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- Location
- PA
...*thinks*
[X]We stand between the relentless waves of life's trials, and the searing loss of our best and brightest. Are we to be the ashes of what's left, to be washed away? Or can you find the strength to stand against them?
...Trying to figure out some metaphor that merges the idea of standing between fire and water and using strength to survive, that three-way link between Ant's theme of struggle and fire and water that I proposed before, and extend a theology out of it. What I've got so far-
Sea-daily trials, the sort of troubles that are each individually small, but can add up over time in effect.
Fire-big trial, this stands for and represents major events, like natural disasters, or all the heroes and gods immeadiately dying. Stuff like that.
Strength-Used to stand against both Sea and Flame, the Endurance to deal with the day to day, the Might to survive the great fires that might appear once a generation, and rebuild.
Anyone have a better idea on how to build off this?
[X]We stand between the relentless waves of life's trials, and the searing loss of our best and brightest. Are we to be the ashes of what's left, to be washed away? Or can you find the strength to stand against them?
...Trying to figure out some metaphor that merges the idea of standing between fire and water and using strength to survive, that three-way link between Ant's theme of struggle and fire and water that I proposed before, and extend a theology out of it. What I've got so far-
Sea-daily trials, the sort of troubles that are each individually small, but can add up over time in effect.
Fire-big trial, this stands for and represents major events, like natural disasters, or all the heroes and gods immeadiately dying. Stuff like that.
Strength-Used to stand against both Sea and Flame, the Endurance to deal with the day to day, the Might to survive the great fires that might appear once a generation, and rebuild.
Anyone have a better idea on how to build off this?
TwistedJester
Tired Lurker King
- Location
- Hell
[X] Zahira
[X] Samir
[X] The seas roar and crash, but to a purpose: it is by harnessing their fury that we speed along and maintain our civilization.
[X] Samir
[X] The seas roar and crash, but to a purpose: it is by harnessing their fury that we speed along and maintain our civilization.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Doubled preposition.
Including the what?
[x] Zahira
[x] Banu
Abstaining on the Ant vote.
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Not sure I get what you're saying? Do you think Kalju is going to turn on Azer and Dawn?
[X] Zahira
[X] Samir
[X] The seas roar and crash, but to a purpose: it is by harnessing their fury that we speed along and maintain our civilization.
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Teloch
ಠ_ಠ
- Location
- The middle of nowhere
In short form: yes.
In long form:
- he already voiced his protest against the protag's methods
- his allegiance now lies with his new girlfriend and not our group
- since his new passion wittingly or not follows the opposite political camp, he will be by the other side of barricades when the poop hits the fan. And believe me, it will.
- protag pledged his support for Adara (or whatever her name is), thus why conflict with the rest of the council and as an extent with Kalju is highly possible.
- the very type of training that protag is undergoing is 100% extinguishment tactic against strong solitary enemies. If I was a writer, I would feel tempted to set these two characters against each other and to add some drama sauce.
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[X] Zahira
[X] Paris
[X] The seas roar and crash, but to a purpose: it is by harnessing their fury that we speed along and maintain our civilization.
[X] Paris
[X] The seas roar and crash, but to a purpose: it is by harnessing their fury that we speed along and maintain our civilization.
- Location
- PA
[X] Banu
[X] Samir
She sails under the Admiral, who perfers Adhara, might as well learn who she is. I'm a little torn but I am kind of starting to tire of Zahira for the moment.
[X] The seas roar and crash, but to a purpose: it is by harnessing their fury that we speed along and maintain our civilization.
[X] Samir
She sails under the Admiral, who perfers Adhara, might as well learn who she is. I'm a little torn but I am kind of starting to tire of Zahira for the moment.
[X] The seas roar and crash, but to a purpose: it is by harnessing their fury that we speed along and maintain our civilization.
Teloch
ಠ_ಠ
- Location
- The middle of nowhere
When a fandom finds its waifu, there's no going back...
InterstellarHobo
Cosmic Vagrant
- Location
- No Fixed Planetary System
Teloch, I don't think it's at all certain that Kalju is going to split.
1: He does seem to disagree with Dawn specifically, but it seems like his beef with us is mostly past.
2: "His allegiance now lies with his new girlfriend and not our group" is at most a half truth. His allegiance is split, for sure, but
3: Kalju is an idealist. The Regency Council has a severe lack of ideals. In fact... "Kalju's eyes aren't resting on Lady Adara just because she's speaking, but because he's really listening to what she's saying." Odds are good that if shit hits the fan and we side with Lady Adara, it will be Dawn upset with us, not Kalju.
1: He does seem to disagree with Dawn specifically, but it seems like his beef with us is mostly past.
2: "His allegiance now lies with his new girlfriend and not our group" is at most a half truth. His allegiance is split, for sure, but
3: Kalju is an idealist. The Regency Council has a severe lack of ideals. In fact... "Kalju's eyes aren't resting on Lady Adara just because she's speaking, but because he's really listening to what she's saying." Odds are good that if shit hits the fan and we side with Lady Adara, it will be Dawn upset with us, not Kalju.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
I want you to know I very much appreciate this sort of feedback. People who take the time to tell me that there's something specific that's not working for them is one of the most useful types of reaction I can get when writing.
Can't guarantee how I'll act based on it, but I take it very seriously.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Status: I haven't forgotten this, haven't lost interest. I just have three months that are disproportionately busy for my job: March, May, and June. April usually isn't so bad. The next update is partially written, but after too many ten hour shifts I just don't have energy for creative endeavors, despite my efforts.
So I'm going to schedule the next update for Saturday, March 30th. We'll be back to weekly-or-so updates during April, and I'll let you know how May and June look as we get there.
So I'm going to schedule the next update for Saturday, March 30th. We'll be back to weekly-or-so updates during April, and I'll let you know how May and June look as we get there.
A potato at sea
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Azer
"I don't actually care much if I get your rum." You shrug. Samir shrugs. He takes a swig of it.
"Why did you ask for it, then?"
"Because it was fun to see Zahira squirm about promising something she couldn't really." Samir is on the bowsprit, perched in unlikely fashion on the wooden beam. Or spar. Or something. You're still learning the terminology. Despite the rising and falling of the Emprise with every swell of the sea, he seems completely at home here, with both legs dangling off one side of it. A rum ration, even if doubled or tripled, wouldn't be enough to affect his balance, so you're not concerned about him going overboard.
Still, he does hand it back for you. You take a swallow. "Was that you getting back at her for making you carve up that dragon?"
He bares his teeth briefly in a fierce grin. "Possibly. I didn't hear you volunteer to help me, either, though, boss..."
You hold up your hands in mock defense. "I had important things to try to foresee!"
"Fat lot of good it's done us so far." Samir's tone is light. "Still, we've steered clear of danger, so I guess you're not a complete mess of a seer." He twists around, belly to the wood, so he can stare at some silvery fish that caught his eye and is keeping pace with the ship, probably using the ship's wake to hitch a ride. After a moment, he continues in a more normal tone, "The other part was that I don't want her to start treating me like someone she can take for granted. I know you have some sort of understanding with her. Gods only know why. But that doesn't make her the boss. You're the one I can trust."
You shrug again, more sheepishly this time. "No, seriously," Samir says. He taps the side of his head while still staring face-down at the sea below. "It's like you've got some sort of little scales in your head, constantly weighing up advantages, not just for you but for all of us. I like that. But try to turn that to getting me rich, yeah?"
"Just rich? No other goals there?"
"Well, I mean, if you find a way to knock the wind out of Dawn's and Zahira's and Kalju's and Ariel's and Omar's and Paris' and Banu's sails, I'd be up for that, too. It would be hilarious." He rattles off the series of names instantly, without seeming to have to think about it, rank them mentally, or having had prepared it ahead of time. He then sits back up, pulling himself into a lotus position without ever shifting off the round spar, somehow balancing as if he were nailed in place. "But I know you're not really up for that. You're too 'respectable'." He emphasizes the last word with heavy finger quotes. He's not going to let you miss his take on this. "But, hell, I don't have to care about them, do I? So no skin off my teeth if you play things up and play whatever games and favor-trading with them. Or pin Zahira down and--"
"No." You pinch your nose as you cut him off. You know that tone in his voice, and interject before he can get too far into that line. If you don't look at him, you won't be able to see his idiot grin.
"Well, can I have some more of the rum, then?" You hand it back without looking at him. In theory, rum rations aren't supposed to be fungible like this; it leads to a sort of tiny black market and ends with someone too drunk to function, or worse. Being a paying passenger has its upside here in not having to care about that.
When you get the cup back, it turns out Samir has had pretty much exactly half of it over his turns. "I actually volunteered for a shift as a lookout." That gets your attention and you look at him in momentary surprise. He rolls his eyes. "It's boring not doing anything, boss. Plus, I might actually find something. Since we've been picking up news everywhere we stop and steering for places on the map we haven't heard from, there's always a chance that there's going to be something really wild for why we haven't heard from them. But the point is I did volunteer, and it's now, so I'm going to have to go to that." He lightly hops onto the deck proper and heads to his duty station.
- -
Not much later, at the scheduled time, you find Zahira in her cabin. It isn't much of a cabin so much as it is a tiny closet demarcated by thin wooden panels to provide an illusion of privacy. You had a notably more actually-private talk with Samir a few minutes ago. In a ship like this, all privacy is basically an illusion, just due to how tightly packed everyone is, but people learn to respect it so they can have their own respected in turn. The porthole is letting in sunlight. Zahira has a book perched on her knees, illuminated by the beam.
She tucks a stray lock behind her ear as she sees you. "Ready for divination practice, Azer?"
You wedge yourself technically in her cabin, to keep out of the main passage. "And you not even a seer."
Zahira snorts at that, but as she often does, she still defends herself from anything that might be considered a criticism. "Yes, well, I've got a stronger theoretical understanding. And I went and started reading up on this while you were instead trying to learn how to stab people spookily. And even if I hadn't, it's helpful to have a partner to practice with. So I think we'll be okay."
She pulls a ratty deck out, one smelling slightly of lemons and salt. Doubtless she borrowed it from the crew. "Standard tests here. Identify the card while you can't see it. We'll do some with it face down and some with me looking at it."
This goes on for a while. As it happens, as long as you're not thinking too hard about it, you can get it right almost all of the time, whether Zahira is looking at it or not.
This continues as Zahira ramps up complexity, demanding you identify the comparative difference of two, call out what the top card will be before she shuffles it, or sort by suit while still face-down, or other such methods.
Annoyingly, you can't really feel the magic working. It just sort of happens by itself. Learning to really master that, and to tell for sure when it is your divination magic activating, would be a huge development, one that could have massive use.
Your mind wanders briefly, as minds often do when presenting a task to focus on for a long period. A half-formed imagination comes, of a future where you do have such a mastery, one where you have a nice happy ending as a respected and wise elder, settled down with someone... your gaze flickers across Zahira.
--him!" the young woman cries out. She knows she's never going to see him again and she's helpless to--
You shake your head, a violent enough motion that it carries to your shoulders. Zahira, in the midst of shuffling the deck again, pauses to observe. "What was that?"
"I think I saw your past by accident." That feels accurate. "Sorry?"
Zahira's look briefly turns into the glare of someone whose privacy has been violated, but softens after a moment. "I don't like to talk about my past."
"I know." She arches an eyebrow when you say that, so you push on. "The night of the ball thing? You asked about my family, but felt locked up if I tried to do the same or just be at all be closer to you."
That elicits a long but not harsh hiss from Zahira, one that feels more frustrated than angry. "Yes," she finally agrees. "You were right about that." Her eyes find yours. "What did you see?"
"You were losing someone. He was being taken away, I think. I didn't get any other details."
"My elder brother." Despite her harsh tone, she seems to be genuinely trying to open up. "I was a child. And you're not him." Her eyes go down to the decking for a moment before coming back up to meet yours. "You're not, and I'm not a child any longer, either. I should..." She trails off, her eyes focusing on nothing in the middle distance for a moment.
It's at that point that you hear a shout on the deck, which is repeated by others as they hear it, until you can make out the words. "Man overboard!"
That gets everyone on deck. It has to. Shallow or not, being abandoned in the open ocean is one of the worst fates any sailor can be consigned to, and only the very most terrible sort of crew wouldn't rescue anyone at all, no questions asked, just in case some other day it were them. That doesn't mean that pirates won't be hung or similar fates, but those are generally considered more humane.
By the time you're again at the ship's railing, things are already in motion. The Emprise has adjusted course for the shape in the water, and Paris is at the stern, with the helmsman, ensuring the winds blow as needed to push you towards the rescuee. There is an island on the horizon, now, one you couldn't see earlier, but the Emprise is not currently aimed directly at it with someone in the water to save.
It's only once you get close that it becomes clear that this isn't a person. The size is about right, and it's paddling along the surface with an awkward motion that looks much like a swimmer from a distance, but murmurs among the crew turn into certainty as it gets within easy view and can be seen between swells of the ocean.
Not only is it not human, it's not anything else you're familiar with. It's not a sea creature, nor a recognized common monster type, nor any type of spirit you know, nor any of the lesser possibilities. It's a lumpy shape, one that puts you vaguely in mind of a potato. At some point, it saw the Emprise, too, and it turned to meet you, as well.
The Emprise tries to pull away, but a schooner takes time to adjust course. The thing rides a surge of wake and latches onto the side of the Emprise. People murmur and give ground, and you are roughly encouraged forward.
There are some downsides to being the closest thing to a hero that's available.
Zahira and Paris line up behind you, as do some of the crew, those who have something weapon-like on hand.
The potato thing heaves to the railing, smashing part of it, and falls heavily to the deck. Half a dozen misplaced and mismatched eyes, which do nothing to decrease its potato-like qualities, blink and scan the deck. It has five limbs, none of which are quite right. They don't have the same number of elbows, one is just a muscular tentacle with no bones, one is tipped with something like a raptor's talons, and at least one has a hoof on the end. You watch it warily. Your first impulse is that this is nothing friendly, but you give it a chance, just in case.
It has no such compunction. It gives an awful shriek, from some source you're not sure of, and the eagle-talon limb hooks onto something it tries to throw at your head. Fortunately, the misbegotten thing grabbed a coil of rope, which flops to the deck uselessly and none of it flew more than a meter. It lurches awkwardly, locomoting by the simple expedient of pushing with whatever limb is behind it at that point, attempting a charge at you.
You draw your sword and step into its reach. Whether it would have been a worthy opponent when it was doing well, it certainly isn't now. By its pace, which was that of a human doing a dog paddle and how far from land you found it, it had been swimming for many hours, if not actual days. It is exhausted, but also apparently too mindless to interact with you in any fashion that isn't mindless aggression.
Techniques drilled into you by Nokomis rise. It's not a human opponent, but awareness is still awareness. It twists, trying to flail at you with the boneless tentacle, but your sword arm falls outside of its perception, and you gouge deep before it notices you were quicker to strike than it was. The flesh is yielding and light. It separates, and what was intended to be a cut ends up a deep hack, sinking more than halfway through before it hits a dense enough core of gristle to stop.
Some other limb tries to hook around from behind, but you're within its grip, and it doesn't know how to fight. Something shin-like clobbers your back, but it's only enough to make you grunt and shift your footing, not hurt. A second time, and a third, your blade strikes at the creature before it ceases resisting. You're not sure if it's actually dead, or just fatally wounded and too ripped apart to continue to fight. Either way, you swallow your gorge and push at it with your foot, and it slides across the deck. You push it back into the ocean through the section of railing it broke, and try not to think about whatever viscera-equivalent you're currently covered in.
Still, the brief fight earns cheers and general good-natured ribbing from the crew, none of whom you know particularly well. You are, at least, the man of the hour. The mages are the subject of general ribbing for not getting to pitch in before you slew it. Zahira punches back, but you don't listen too hard to the exchanges; Zahira and the general rough nature of sailors trying to verbally skewer each other isn't something you want to listen to too hard. Excitement finally dies down a bit, and the usual routine of the ship, plus cleaning and wood repair, take hold again.
It's only then that the captain comes up to you. You see the look in her eyes matches yours. Not everyone else paid attention. "It came from the island ahead, didn't it?" you ask her. Your voice is a quiet murmur, low enough that practiced sailors don't hear it.
Captain Banu nods. "It was paddling directly away from it. Did you want to turn away?"
You mull that for a quiet moment. "No," you finally say. "Take precautions, but let's still plan to put into port." Unfortunately, you still need to. Not only are you out trying to network with the parts of the Shallow Empire you've lost contact with since the Great Dying, but you're out looking for powers that can be woven back into the authority structure, and this either qualifies, or else it is a threat to it. You can't justify not investigating.
- -
The island is Soyus, according to charts. It's not one you recall knowing about prior to the Great Dying, so that doesn't help much. Captain Banu's charts take you to what is supposed to be the sole settlement on the island. Oddly, though, as soon as you can see anything, you can see that the town has a thrown-together palisade walling it off from the rest of the island, meaning that there's something out there that they are trying to keep out, and that it's a recent development.
The town sees you about the time you see them, of course, so there's no surprise that by the time the Emprise approaches the only docking space that will fit her (the others being taken by coastal vehicles that thrive in shallower depths), there's a waiting crew to meet you.
It consists of a man in a very worn mantle that once was authority, flanked by four young people armed with spears, plus someone holding what looks like papers and note-strings. That would be an assistant. The armed ones willingly take mooring lines and otherwise assist in pulling the ship up. This is, of course, always a mildly prickly situation: without the seer network, you don't know what you're going to find, and they don't know who you are, either.
You still wear your sword and shield. You always do. However, they're on your hips, and you've managed to clean up after the scuffle at sea. You, as technically the leader of this expedition, set down the gangplank first once it's set up. The man in the mantle steps up to greet you as you come down. He's beginning to press up against middle age, though he has the physique of someone trying hard to deny that but unable to keep all his hair. As courtesy demands, you stop at the bottom, but before you actually step off it. "I am Azer. Permission to disembark?"
"Granted," he says, with a gracious incline of his head. "I am Camdon, the boyar here." You take the ceremonial last step off, then freeze as he asks, "So Duilio heard our plea, then?"
Duilio is a name that rings a bell: he was one of the governors whom Omar had called out as a potential ambitious sort. Your crash course in such things, whatever could be fit among your other duties before you left the capital, isn't enough to place more than that he probably is almost as far from here as the capital is, perhaps three-quarters the travel time in most weather conditions. "I am from the Regency Council, which is overseeing the capital in the name of Prince Ketut," you say, evenly.
"My apologies, sir," Camdon says, looking uncertain. He clearly isn't familiar with either 'Regency Council' or 'Prince Ketut'. "When the troubles started, we sent out word for anyone who could help us, and... I had heard the name of Duilio..."
You wave away his attempt to be properly apologetic before he can really get into it. You're not exactly bothered by the fact that he tried to find help where he could. The part you're not certain about, you ask about. "Sorry, troubles?" Doubtless it ties into the armed guard, the palisade, and possibly the strange potato-creature you fought earlier, but details wouldn't hurt.
The boyar looks at you, at the ship, and at the world around him for a moment, as he tries to process a visitor who wasn't called here and doesn't know what's going on. "Let's go to my office and I'll explain everything."
You nod, gesturing for Zahira and Samir to follow you as you do.
- -
The story ends up requiring a great deal of backstory, as Camdon has to back up and explain things more than he expected to. Eventually, though, you put it in order. Soyus, it turns out, was a prison island, for a goddess of birth and fruit trees. The goddess had been on the outs in whatever strange social dance gods maintained, which was why Shin-Quela had exiled her here. Then, at the same day as every other death occurred, this goddess also died, her body slipping into a freshwater pool that had sat further around the island, only a little ways inland from another beach. The locals had seen her demise, but had lacked any ability to retrieve her, so they had left her while they tried to contact the outside world, without success at first.
Then, monsters showed up.
Various misshapen creatures, mostly not particularly threatening but all aggressive and violent, begin crawling out of the pool. The town had thrown up the palisade and put its people under arms to defend themselves. The problem, however, was that there didn't seem to be an end to the creatures. Each was unique, and no matter how unthreatening they usually were, there were many of them, and no way to be sure that there weren't a functionally endless amount of them to come. Hence, sending for aid.
Just when you put the story together, one of the guards knocks on the door and calls Boyar Camdon away, a strange look on his face as he does. That leaves you a chance to quickly and privately consult with your companions as you are left alone. Samir looks a little annoyed, which probably isn't too surprising when this is a potentially dangerous situation, but he's definitely not going to be a problem. Zahira, on the other hand, leans across the table and locks her eyes on yours, and there's a shine in them. "Azer. I think the god's corpse was still magic. And I think it may have brewed up... I dunno, some sort of natural potion! Not one I've ever heard of, but some sort of... genesis spring, that's creating new creatures out of the water. We probably just found exactly the sort of strange new power we were trying to find."
Samir elbows her. "Yeah, you got a potion that you can't move, brewing up new creatures that no one wants, out in the middle of nowhere. Fantastic find!"
Zahira glowers at him. "I can learn from it," she points out, defensively.
Before Samir can find something else to poke her with, the boyar opens the door. He has the same strange look as the messenger. "There's another ship..." he tells you.
- -
There is, indeed, another ship, one perhaps a little smaller than Emprise, that came out of another quarter and is approaching the dock. As when you came in, the boyar and his attendants go to wait and greet the newcomers, offering for you to come along, as well.
As the new ship comes in, you see a man on the foredeck. He is surrounded by a faint haze, which you eventually realize is a cloud of minor spirits, just buzzing around him. You've never seen the like. He takes a step, and stands on the railing. That earns him murmurs from people on the dock, both your people and the locals, which only intensify as he steps off it.
He doesn't drop into the water, as you expected. Instead, the spirits around him rush to buzz under his feet, solidifying into a path of softly glowing light he strides down as he walks in your direction, both hands clasped behind his back and a superior grin on his face. Of course, he is just walking, not flying like a bird, so the walking pace still takes a few minutes, which lessens the effect somewhat. His ship puts to anchor out in the harbor, no one else disembarking as no one else can make the trip by air this way.
His footholds disappear as he steps off them, and new ones appear as he steps forward. You start trying to calculate how many spirits he has with him, and how much each of them can hold or otherwise do. Zahira, next to you, has another insight, though. She slips an arm around your waist, looking like she's whispering some sweet nothing as she instead hisses, "That's not ordinary Contract magic."
You frown, and glance at him again. She's right, you realize: normal Contract powers don't involve the spirits themselves acting. They grant powers. Other times the spirit may do its own action, but it's not one where they can read the human's mind, so the communication has to be verbal. Here, they're placing themselves perfectly for his steps as he's taking them, and his pace isn't quite uniform enough for them to just be guessing or following a routine.
That means he's in direct mental connection, at a faster-than-verbal pace, with these spirits, and they're obeying him.
Technically, that isn't supposed to be possible. You frown.
The man draws near, still arrogantly floating in the air, held aloft by his spirit allies. "I am Alberich, here on command of Governor Duilio and in answer to your summons. May I have permission to disembark?"
"Granted." Camdon seems a little overawed by Alberich's entrance, which was doubtless the point. Alberich steps down from his platform to join you on the base earth, and you realize he's not particularly tall.
He tries to look down his nose at you, regardless. "Are you a local, then?" That's provocation. It's clearly and obviously an attempt to provoke you: you're right next to your own ship.
"Azer, from the Regency Council," you say, instead, not letting any expression onto your face.
"Ah, yes, we had heard about you," Alberich says with a large grin. The little spirits buzz around his head. From up close, you can see that they look something like slightly humanoid dragonflies in size and build, flitting around him with a manic energy. Here and there, you see them crawl into or out of the bottom of his tunic or a pack he has across his back. "Well, you can wait here. I'll consult with the boyar here, and then integrate your powers into my plan to secure this magical spring."
Despite the warm, sunny day, the tension drops the temperature until everyone present feels a chill. The boyar shuffles back and away a few steps, trying very hard to look like that had nothing to do with Alberich just declaring that he was in charge and you were expected to be subordinate to him. This is probably the first time it's come up between the Governor and the Regency Council. It's certainly the first that you've heard about, since you weren't even aware that Duilio was active like this. That means that your reaction here is likely to determine something about how the two de facto powers rising after the Great Dying interact with each other, especially since Alberich just cut out the potential that you could just work amicably together and let politicians and bureaucrats work out the details to make things smooth.
"You probably should listen to the boyar," you say, cutting off Zahira, who was probably going to be less helpful. "You do need to get caught up, since you came so late."
Alberich forces a bark of a laugh, slapping your upper arm in a companionable way that fools no one, and turns his attention to the boyar.
"So... you have a plan, then, boss?" Samir follows them with his eyes as they head back to the boyar's office, just in case you're about to tell him to put an arrow in one or both of them.
"Yes..." Your mind whirls.
[ ] Plan to jump the gun. Sail around the island and land closer to the spring, then fight your way in and claim it yourself.
[ ] Plan to work together. Force Alberich to treat you as an equal and cooperate to get to the spring and keep the town safe.
[ ] Plan to stay in town. Let Alberich do the dangerous part he already said he planned to, while you stay safer and be more visible to the locals.
Dawn
If your work weren't so satisfying, it would be terrible. You've spent your days dealing with everything from hasing out theology with Ant and the little priesthood you've developed around her all the way through to simple administrative details, like what sort of color scheme is appropriate for the rows of pews.
There can be no question that Ant is the strongest spirit anyone in the capital or the rest of the lands the Regency Council oversees, as well as an important part of the new power structure. The exact line between a great spirit and a god has always been very blurry and given to political calls, so no one (save the tiny remaining sliver of her minor priests who survived, the same way Zahira did) complained when you proposed that the temple of Shin-Quela, the old queen of the gods, would be repurposed into Ant's temple. After all, just like with Shin-Quela, Ant is the iron fist within the velvet glove that explains to the rest of the Empire exactly what benefit there is to staying loyal. This is the god who could get turned against someone or against their enemies, so make the wise choice.
Your office is somewhat spartan. You like it that way. You don't need luxury to do paperwork or to think, and there's an overly plush and gilded library you can turn to if you do need to meet with someone who thinks that sort of needless decadence is a sign of power.
You're in that office when a knock comes at the door. It swings open without waiting for you. It's Plai. Plai has become your second in command: she was an under-priest of Bel-Kirandu when the Great Dying came, and actually watched the hearth god topple over dead. Her value as an experienced priestess is that she has relevant experience, allowing you to create this new order with a minimum of avoidable mistakes.
Plai has made no bones about her ambition. She's hitched her star to yours because you're a path for her to get ahead. As such, she's served as a general-purpose tool, who makes things work without bothering you unnecessarily, because doing so helps her, too.
You're both pretty okay with this.
"Yes, Plai?"
She dumps a series of papers and note-strings onto the roughly-defined chunk of your desk that serves as an inbox. "Mail," she says. "I went through it and weeded out the useless and fawning things. They're on the bottom. Most important thing is from the Admiral General."
It is on top, of course. You pick it up. The seal's been broken, which is how she knows what it is. You scan it. Your eyebrows arch in surprise, and you turn to Plai. "This is for real?"
Plai nods, takes one of the two seats opposite you, and puts her booted feet on the edge of your desk. Your look turns harsher. Her feet come down with a sigh. "Yes, it's real. Remember that shady office that opened in the first week after the Great Dying, that promised it could awaken elementalism in people and only a few people died trying to get it?" You nod. It wasn't a big deal for you, but you remembered its existence. "Well, guess what? A good chunk of their success stories are turning to failures. The magical matrix isn't stable, and they're suddenly finding themselves without magic. And, naturally, the office is closed and the people who ran it left without leaving a forwarding address."
"I didn't know that sort of loss could happen."
"It wasn't very common, before. The people we had training then knew what they were doing. Try to recreate things without that knowledge and sometimes you mess up."
She's emphasizing her own value, as if you weren't rubbing elbows with priests or priestesses the whole time you were in Tal-Roshath's temple. You ignore that. "That explains this, then." The Admiral General's request is written in frozenly formal language, and is hoping that the Temple of Ant can supply magic-users with the power to directly move military vessels.
This sort of shipmage post was normally the bailiwick of conceptual mages or elementalists who could command wind or waves, but there aren't many of the former around right now and Plai's news is that some of the latter aren't maintaining their powers. Ant's picked up some water-themed powers from you and can pass them on to others through Contracts: Plai is one of them, for instance, a twice-distorted echo of your own elementalism. It does make sense that Admiral General Hobi is hoping you can fill the difference. His navy is beginning to get its feet wet on anti-piracy excursions, along with general flag-waving outings, so being able to actually direct ships without being at the whim of the wind is important.
It's a pity that Ant doesn't want many more Contracts. She's already complaining that the ones she has made are giving her a running headache.
"We'll deal with that later," you decide, throwing it back on the pile. It's a good sort of problem to have, the problem of a civilization that's got an authority structure in place and is trying to find the best way to optimize that.
Plai shrugs diffidently and stands to follow you. You do have somewhere to be, after all.
As you exit your office and make your way out through the hallways of the temple, you run into one other person. "Hello, Ma'ams!" says Innes with a brilliant smile.
Innes is another of your new priests; he was one of the class of intended sacrifices for Tal-Roshath that came after yours; the practice had been to assemble a cohort for a few years, then train and sacrifice, meaning Innes was from the last group that would ever be assembled in Tal-Roshath's name. You and the others were on the younger side of your group, where he is on the older side of his. He is a much simpler person than Plai, by all appearances, mostly just seeming to be excited to be helpful and useful, while not really having a place where he shows any specific talent or use.
You put him in charge of the children's ministries.
"Hello, Innes," you say, with a nod. Innes comes along with no further prompting than that, in a weird side-walk so he doesn't get left behind but can also talk to you while at least sort of facing you. "Did you get things together?"
He nods, energetically. "I spent two days checking with every confectioner in the city, but I should have enough sweets to give out to every child along the parade's route now!"
"That's good." You don't really need the pomp of it all, but the Regency Council is right in the value of declaring a holiday. Public celebration should help maintain popular confidence in the new order, showing that there is nothing to worry about. Thus, the Council is officially celebrating Prince Ketut's birthday as the new Emperor. It's not actually his birthday, but apparently this type of 'official' birthday is more common than you had realized.
The schedule of events for the parade has some of the common entries, such as jugglers and clowns. Ant's agreed to pop out here and there for people to ooh over, which she always likes. You have one of the more draining parts of the whole event, as you are expected to put on a show of your elementalism through much of it, commanding flame and water so that the populace can see it and believe heroes and mages are close enough to fully back.
Plai and Innes and everyone else who can justify a reason to be in it, will be. Ketut, still a baby, will be carried along and presented, but hopefully with the help of his nannies he won't do much beyond sleep through it while things happen around him. Crying babies don't enhance any events.
- -
The parade goes smoothly, though you find yourself tired by the end of it. It devolves, as these things often do, into a general haphazard mess at the parade's end point, with some people trying to arrange public dancing and others seeing this as a chance to sell goods and almost certainly some pickpockets seeing it as their best chance to score a big mark. Some people are trying to sell food, some are trying to encourage a spirit of public sharing, and more.
Kalju, Ariel, and a few of that ilk are here in Regency Council colors, serving as another pointed reminder of the fact that someone is, in fact, in charge, beyond also potentially acting as general crowd control. You wonder exactly how well Ariel could fill that role, but it's a distant thought that's mostly overwhelmed by the general hollow feeling in your bones.
Your elemental show was draining; exerting magical force for that length of time exhausts your reserves, and the only cure for that is sleep, food, and time, as your body replenishes itself. You and Innes have retired to a raised, covered pavilion set up to one side. Technically, it's not set aside for anything in particular, but just being up a few steps is enough for people to assume it's only for designated people, meaning that you have it to yourself, and can rest in the shade.
Innes is nattering on about a logic puzzle he brought to kids last week, and how proud he is of whoever managed to solve it and the clever wrong answers he got, but you don't listen too much. It's his area, and you are happy that it doesn't have to be yours.
It's in this quiet downtime when you feel a sudden signal in your head. It's as if you heard a drop of water hit a still underground pool. It's a tiny signal, but it echoes all the more clearly due to the silence. You look up sharply, which Innes doesn't even react to. That wasn't nothing, you realize. It was someone flaring their own magical power, making a sort of sympathetic vibration you can feel.
You look here and there, but no one else seems to have noticed, nor can you identify the signal. It's not a magical signature you can recall having seen before, and it's a surprisingly potent one. The sort who would not have survived the Great Dying, though it would have been on the lower end of the affected.
The feel continues until you realize that it was directional, a pulse from a specific source and aimed at you. You look at the direction it came from. There's a woman sitting alone on an abandoned crate, just off the main area. She pretends she just happened to glance your way as you look at her. She gives you a tiny, two-finger wave and a subtle nod of the head.
You feel Ant stir, her attention awakening from the pendant to follow your senses, too. "What do you make of that, Ant?" you murmur.
"I think someone's trying to meet with us," Ant says. "Pity. If it was someone who just wanted to kill you, you'd probably let me rip her apart. They're not a threat to me, but they are in about your 'weight class', plus or minus how skilled they are... but that's an odd power. I haven't felt exactly anything like it before."
"So what do we do?"
"I thought making that sort of petty decision was why I have priestesses now." Ant lets amusement color her mental speech. "But to at least try to be helpful, it's more about how you handle this. She clearly knows you who are, but it's up to you to react now. How formal do you want to be? There's advantages to formality and informality, so try to dictate how you want to address people of some power but unknown station and disposition. Assuming you don't just want me to physically manifest, go pick her up, and carry her back here, protesting as I do."
"No, don't do that." You think over your options.
[ ] Go over, informally, and just happen to have a conversation. Whatever is going on, there's no need to start with it escalated.
[ ] Send Innes over, with an invitation to come to your office tomorrow afternoon. You can stay in control by having everything on your home turf and on your timetable.
[ ] If she wants to talk to you, she should have done it formally. This is an inappropriate way, and a potential threat. Ask Kalju to detain her.
[ ] Ignore her. If she wants to speak to the high priestess of Ant, she can put in a supplication same as anyone else.
- -
Happy one year anniversary!plus three days Thanks to all of you who've kept with the thread, whether from the get-go or from coming in somewhere along the way.
Sorry this took so long. Just fell into a hole where I didn't write for too long, and I actually had trouble getting what I wanted out of both Azer's and Dawn's sections, so neither section was ready much before the other. Then I needed to introduce a lot of stuff to get this new bit of story underway and I realized how long it was getting and thought "hey, an update of this size would make a nice anniversary thing for the thread!", which is the only reason this is posted today instead of posting one part first and which would have been... less than a week ago. Yeah, it took me a bit to be happy with this.
I'm not going to promise that we'll see both Dawn and Azer in every update from here out; I fully reserve the right to focus on one or the other temporarily for pacing reasons.
"I don't actually care much if I get your rum." You shrug. Samir shrugs. He takes a swig of it.
"Why did you ask for it, then?"
"Because it was fun to see Zahira squirm about promising something she couldn't really." Samir is on the bowsprit, perched in unlikely fashion on the wooden beam. Or spar. Or something. You're still learning the terminology. Despite the rising and falling of the Emprise with every swell of the sea, he seems completely at home here, with both legs dangling off one side of it. A rum ration, even if doubled or tripled, wouldn't be enough to affect his balance, so you're not concerned about him going overboard.
Still, he does hand it back for you. You take a swallow. "Was that you getting back at her for making you carve up that dragon?"
He bares his teeth briefly in a fierce grin. "Possibly. I didn't hear you volunteer to help me, either, though, boss..."
You hold up your hands in mock defense. "I had important things to try to foresee!"
"Fat lot of good it's done us so far." Samir's tone is light. "Still, we've steered clear of danger, so I guess you're not a complete mess of a seer." He twists around, belly to the wood, so he can stare at some silvery fish that caught his eye and is keeping pace with the ship, probably using the ship's wake to hitch a ride. After a moment, he continues in a more normal tone, "The other part was that I don't want her to start treating me like someone she can take for granted. I know you have some sort of understanding with her. Gods only know why. But that doesn't make her the boss. You're the one I can trust."
You shrug again, more sheepishly this time. "No, seriously," Samir says. He taps the side of his head while still staring face-down at the sea below. "It's like you've got some sort of little scales in your head, constantly weighing up advantages, not just for you but for all of us. I like that. But try to turn that to getting me rich, yeah?"
"Just rich? No other goals there?"
"Well, I mean, if you find a way to knock the wind out of Dawn's and Zahira's and Kalju's and Ariel's and Omar's and Paris' and Banu's sails, I'd be up for that, too. It would be hilarious." He rattles off the series of names instantly, without seeming to have to think about it, rank them mentally, or having had prepared it ahead of time. He then sits back up, pulling himself into a lotus position without ever shifting off the round spar, somehow balancing as if he were nailed in place. "But I know you're not really up for that. You're too 'respectable'." He emphasizes the last word with heavy finger quotes. He's not going to let you miss his take on this. "But, hell, I don't have to care about them, do I? So no skin off my teeth if you play things up and play whatever games and favor-trading with them. Or pin Zahira down and--"
"No." You pinch your nose as you cut him off. You know that tone in his voice, and interject before he can get too far into that line. If you don't look at him, you won't be able to see his idiot grin.
"Well, can I have some more of the rum, then?" You hand it back without looking at him. In theory, rum rations aren't supposed to be fungible like this; it leads to a sort of tiny black market and ends with someone too drunk to function, or worse. Being a paying passenger has its upside here in not having to care about that.
When you get the cup back, it turns out Samir has had pretty much exactly half of it over his turns. "I actually volunteered for a shift as a lookout." That gets your attention and you look at him in momentary surprise. He rolls his eyes. "It's boring not doing anything, boss. Plus, I might actually find something. Since we've been picking up news everywhere we stop and steering for places on the map we haven't heard from, there's always a chance that there's going to be something really wild for why we haven't heard from them. But the point is I did volunteer, and it's now, so I'm going to have to go to that." He lightly hops onto the deck proper and heads to his duty station.
- -
Not much later, at the scheduled time, you find Zahira in her cabin. It isn't much of a cabin so much as it is a tiny closet demarcated by thin wooden panels to provide an illusion of privacy. You had a notably more actually-private talk with Samir a few minutes ago. In a ship like this, all privacy is basically an illusion, just due to how tightly packed everyone is, but people learn to respect it so they can have their own respected in turn. The porthole is letting in sunlight. Zahira has a book perched on her knees, illuminated by the beam.
She tucks a stray lock behind her ear as she sees you. "Ready for divination practice, Azer?"
You wedge yourself technically in her cabin, to keep out of the main passage. "And you not even a seer."
Zahira snorts at that, but as she often does, she still defends herself from anything that might be considered a criticism. "Yes, well, I've got a stronger theoretical understanding. And I went and started reading up on this while you were instead trying to learn how to stab people spookily. And even if I hadn't, it's helpful to have a partner to practice with. So I think we'll be okay."
She pulls a ratty deck out, one smelling slightly of lemons and salt. Doubtless she borrowed it from the crew. "Standard tests here. Identify the card while you can't see it. We'll do some with it face down and some with me looking at it."
This goes on for a while. As it happens, as long as you're not thinking too hard about it, you can get it right almost all of the time, whether Zahira is looking at it or not.
This continues as Zahira ramps up complexity, demanding you identify the comparative difference of two, call out what the top card will be before she shuffles it, or sort by suit while still face-down, or other such methods.
Annoyingly, you can't really feel the magic working. It just sort of happens by itself. Learning to really master that, and to tell for sure when it is your divination magic activating, would be a huge development, one that could have massive use.
Your mind wanders briefly, as minds often do when presenting a task to focus on for a long period. A half-formed imagination comes, of a future where you do have such a mastery, one where you have a nice happy ending as a respected and wise elder, settled down with someone... your gaze flickers across Zahira.
--him!" the young woman cries out. She knows she's never going to see him again and she's helpless to--
You shake your head, a violent enough motion that it carries to your shoulders. Zahira, in the midst of shuffling the deck again, pauses to observe. "What was that?"
"I think I saw your past by accident." That feels accurate. "Sorry?"
Zahira's look briefly turns into the glare of someone whose privacy has been violated, but softens after a moment. "I don't like to talk about my past."
"I know." She arches an eyebrow when you say that, so you push on. "The night of the ball thing? You asked about my family, but felt locked up if I tried to do the same or just be at all be closer to you."
That elicits a long but not harsh hiss from Zahira, one that feels more frustrated than angry. "Yes," she finally agrees. "You were right about that." Her eyes find yours. "What did you see?"
"You were losing someone. He was being taken away, I think. I didn't get any other details."
"My elder brother." Despite her harsh tone, she seems to be genuinely trying to open up. "I was a child. And you're not him." Her eyes go down to the decking for a moment before coming back up to meet yours. "You're not, and I'm not a child any longer, either. I should..." She trails off, her eyes focusing on nothing in the middle distance for a moment.
It's at that point that you hear a shout on the deck, which is repeated by others as they hear it, until you can make out the words. "Man overboard!"
That gets everyone on deck. It has to. Shallow or not, being abandoned in the open ocean is one of the worst fates any sailor can be consigned to, and only the very most terrible sort of crew wouldn't rescue anyone at all, no questions asked, just in case some other day it were them. That doesn't mean that pirates won't be hung or similar fates, but those are generally considered more humane.
By the time you're again at the ship's railing, things are already in motion. The Emprise has adjusted course for the shape in the water, and Paris is at the stern, with the helmsman, ensuring the winds blow as needed to push you towards the rescuee. There is an island on the horizon, now, one you couldn't see earlier, but the Emprise is not currently aimed directly at it with someone in the water to save.
It's only once you get close that it becomes clear that this isn't a person. The size is about right, and it's paddling along the surface with an awkward motion that looks much like a swimmer from a distance, but murmurs among the crew turn into certainty as it gets within easy view and can be seen between swells of the ocean.
Not only is it not human, it's not anything else you're familiar with. It's not a sea creature, nor a recognized common monster type, nor any type of spirit you know, nor any of the lesser possibilities. It's a lumpy shape, one that puts you vaguely in mind of a potato. At some point, it saw the Emprise, too, and it turned to meet you, as well.
The Emprise tries to pull away, but a schooner takes time to adjust course. The thing rides a surge of wake and latches onto the side of the Emprise. People murmur and give ground, and you are roughly encouraged forward.
There are some downsides to being the closest thing to a hero that's available.
Zahira and Paris line up behind you, as do some of the crew, those who have something weapon-like on hand.
The potato thing heaves to the railing, smashing part of it, and falls heavily to the deck. Half a dozen misplaced and mismatched eyes, which do nothing to decrease its potato-like qualities, blink and scan the deck. It has five limbs, none of which are quite right. They don't have the same number of elbows, one is just a muscular tentacle with no bones, one is tipped with something like a raptor's talons, and at least one has a hoof on the end. You watch it warily. Your first impulse is that this is nothing friendly, but you give it a chance, just in case.
It has no such compunction. It gives an awful shriek, from some source you're not sure of, and the eagle-talon limb hooks onto something it tries to throw at your head. Fortunately, the misbegotten thing grabbed a coil of rope, which flops to the deck uselessly and none of it flew more than a meter. It lurches awkwardly, locomoting by the simple expedient of pushing with whatever limb is behind it at that point, attempting a charge at you.
You draw your sword and step into its reach. Whether it would have been a worthy opponent when it was doing well, it certainly isn't now. By its pace, which was that of a human doing a dog paddle and how far from land you found it, it had been swimming for many hours, if not actual days. It is exhausted, but also apparently too mindless to interact with you in any fashion that isn't mindless aggression.
Techniques drilled into you by Nokomis rise. It's not a human opponent, but awareness is still awareness. It twists, trying to flail at you with the boneless tentacle, but your sword arm falls outside of its perception, and you gouge deep before it notices you were quicker to strike than it was. The flesh is yielding and light. It separates, and what was intended to be a cut ends up a deep hack, sinking more than halfway through before it hits a dense enough core of gristle to stop.
Some other limb tries to hook around from behind, but you're within its grip, and it doesn't know how to fight. Something shin-like clobbers your back, but it's only enough to make you grunt and shift your footing, not hurt. A second time, and a third, your blade strikes at the creature before it ceases resisting. You're not sure if it's actually dead, or just fatally wounded and too ripped apart to continue to fight. Either way, you swallow your gorge and push at it with your foot, and it slides across the deck. You push it back into the ocean through the section of railing it broke, and try not to think about whatever viscera-equivalent you're currently covered in.
Still, the brief fight earns cheers and general good-natured ribbing from the crew, none of whom you know particularly well. You are, at least, the man of the hour. The mages are the subject of general ribbing for not getting to pitch in before you slew it. Zahira punches back, but you don't listen too hard to the exchanges; Zahira and the general rough nature of sailors trying to verbally skewer each other isn't something you want to listen to too hard. Excitement finally dies down a bit, and the usual routine of the ship, plus cleaning and wood repair, take hold again.
It's only then that the captain comes up to you. You see the look in her eyes matches yours. Not everyone else paid attention. "It came from the island ahead, didn't it?" you ask her. Your voice is a quiet murmur, low enough that practiced sailors don't hear it.
Captain Banu nods. "It was paddling directly away from it. Did you want to turn away?"
You mull that for a quiet moment. "No," you finally say. "Take precautions, but let's still plan to put into port." Unfortunately, you still need to. Not only are you out trying to network with the parts of the Shallow Empire you've lost contact with since the Great Dying, but you're out looking for powers that can be woven back into the authority structure, and this either qualifies, or else it is a threat to it. You can't justify not investigating.
- -
The island is Soyus, according to charts. It's not one you recall knowing about prior to the Great Dying, so that doesn't help much. Captain Banu's charts take you to what is supposed to be the sole settlement on the island. Oddly, though, as soon as you can see anything, you can see that the town has a thrown-together palisade walling it off from the rest of the island, meaning that there's something out there that they are trying to keep out, and that it's a recent development.
The town sees you about the time you see them, of course, so there's no surprise that by the time the Emprise approaches the only docking space that will fit her (the others being taken by coastal vehicles that thrive in shallower depths), there's a waiting crew to meet you.
It consists of a man in a very worn mantle that once was authority, flanked by four young people armed with spears, plus someone holding what looks like papers and note-strings. That would be an assistant. The armed ones willingly take mooring lines and otherwise assist in pulling the ship up. This is, of course, always a mildly prickly situation: without the seer network, you don't know what you're going to find, and they don't know who you are, either.
You still wear your sword and shield. You always do. However, they're on your hips, and you've managed to clean up after the scuffle at sea. You, as technically the leader of this expedition, set down the gangplank first once it's set up. The man in the mantle steps up to greet you as you come down. He's beginning to press up against middle age, though he has the physique of someone trying hard to deny that but unable to keep all his hair. As courtesy demands, you stop at the bottom, but before you actually step off it. "I am Azer. Permission to disembark?"
"Granted," he says, with a gracious incline of his head. "I am Camdon, the boyar here." You take the ceremonial last step off, then freeze as he asks, "So Duilio heard our plea, then?"
Duilio is a name that rings a bell: he was one of the governors whom Omar had called out as a potential ambitious sort. Your crash course in such things, whatever could be fit among your other duties before you left the capital, isn't enough to place more than that he probably is almost as far from here as the capital is, perhaps three-quarters the travel time in most weather conditions. "I am from the Regency Council, which is overseeing the capital in the name of Prince Ketut," you say, evenly.
"My apologies, sir," Camdon says, looking uncertain. He clearly isn't familiar with either 'Regency Council' or 'Prince Ketut'. "When the troubles started, we sent out word for anyone who could help us, and... I had heard the name of Duilio..."
You wave away his attempt to be properly apologetic before he can really get into it. You're not exactly bothered by the fact that he tried to find help where he could. The part you're not certain about, you ask about. "Sorry, troubles?" Doubtless it ties into the armed guard, the palisade, and possibly the strange potato-creature you fought earlier, but details wouldn't hurt.
The boyar looks at you, at the ship, and at the world around him for a moment, as he tries to process a visitor who wasn't called here and doesn't know what's going on. "Let's go to my office and I'll explain everything."
You nod, gesturing for Zahira and Samir to follow you as you do.
- -
The story ends up requiring a great deal of backstory, as Camdon has to back up and explain things more than he expected to. Eventually, though, you put it in order. Soyus, it turns out, was a prison island, for a goddess of birth and fruit trees. The goddess had been on the outs in whatever strange social dance gods maintained, which was why Shin-Quela had exiled her here. Then, at the same day as every other death occurred, this goddess also died, her body slipping into a freshwater pool that had sat further around the island, only a little ways inland from another beach. The locals had seen her demise, but had lacked any ability to retrieve her, so they had left her while they tried to contact the outside world, without success at first.
Then, monsters showed up.
Various misshapen creatures, mostly not particularly threatening but all aggressive and violent, begin crawling out of the pool. The town had thrown up the palisade and put its people under arms to defend themselves. The problem, however, was that there didn't seem to be an end to the creatures. Each was unique, and no matter how unthreatening they usually were, there were many of them, and no way to be sure that there weren't a functionally endless amount of them to come. Hence, sending for aid.
Just when you put the story together, one of the guards knocks on the door and calls Boyar Camdon away, a strange look on his face as he does. That leaves you a chance to quickly and privately consult with your companions as you are left alone. Samir looks a little annoyed, which probably isn't too surprising when this is a potentially dangerous situation, but he's definitely not going to be a problem. Zahira, on the other hand, leans across the table and locks her eyes on yours, and there's a shine in them. "Azer. I think the god's corpse was still magic. And I think it may have brewed up... I dunno, some sort of natural potion! Not one I've ever heard of, but some sort of... genesis spring, that's creating new creatures out of the water. We probably just found exactly the sort of strange new power we were trying to find."
Samir elbows her. "Yeah, you got a potion that you can't move, brewing up new creatures that no one wants, out in the middle of nowhere. Fantastic find!"
Zahira glowers at him. "I can learn from it," she points out, defensively.
Before Samir can find something else to poke her with, the boyar opens the door. He has the same strange look as the messenger. "There's another ship..." he tells you.
- -
There is, indeed, another ship, one perhaps a little smaller than Emprise, that came out of another quarter and is approaching the dock. As when you came in, the boyar and his attendants go to wait and greet the newcomers, offering for you to come along, as well.
As the new ship comes in, you see a man on the foredeck. He is surrounded by a faint haze, which you eventually realize is a cloud of minor spirits, just buzzing around him. You've never seen the like. He takes a step, and stands on the railing. That earns him murmurs from people on the dock, both your people and the locals, which only intensify as he steps off it.
He doesn't drop into the water, as you expected. Instead, the spirits around him rush to buzz under his feet, solidifying into a path of softly glowing light he strides down as he walks in your direction, both hands clasped behind his back and a superior grin on his face. Of course, he is just walking, not flying like a bird, so the walking pace still takes a few minutes, which lessens the effect somewhat. His ship puts to anchor out in the harbor, no one else disembarking as no one else can make the trip by air this way.
His footholds disappear as he steps off them, and new ones appear as he steps forward. You start trying to calculate how many spirits he has with him, and how much each of them can hold or otherwise do. Zahira, next to you, has another insight, though. She slips an arm around your waist, looking like she's whispering some sweet nothing as she instead hisses, "That's not ordinary Contract magic."
You frown, and glance at him again. She's right, you realize: normal Contract powers don't involve the spirits themselves acting. They grant powers. Other times the spirit may do its own action, but it's not one where they can read the human's mind, so the communication has to be verbal. Here, they're placing themselves perfectly for his steps as he's taking them, and his pace isn't quite uniform enough for them to just be guessing or following a routine.
That means he's in direct mental connection, at a faster-than-verbal pace, with these spirits, and they're obeying him.
Technically, that isn't supposed to be possible. You frown.
The man draws near, still arrogantly floating in the air, held aloft by his spirit allies. "I am Alberich, here on command of Governor Duilio and in answer to your summons. May I have permission to disembark?"
"Granted." Camdon seems a little overawed by Alberich's entrance, which was doubtless the point. Alberich steps down from his platform to join you on the base earth, and you realize he's not particularly tall.
He tries to look down his nose at you, regardless. "Are you a local, then?" That's provocation. It's clearly and obviously an attempt to provoke you: you're right next to your own ship.
"Azer, from the Regency Council," you say, instead, not letting any expression onto your face.
"Ah, yes, we had heard about you," Alberich says with a large grin. The little spirits buzz around his head. From up close, you can see that they look something like slightly humanoid dragonflies in size and build, flitting around him with a manic energy. Here and there, you see them crawl into or out of the bottom of his tunic or a pack he has across his back. "Well, you can wait here. I'll consult with the boyar here, and then integrate your powers into my plan to secure this magical spring."
Despite the warm, sunny day, the tension drops the temperature until everyone present feels a chill. The boyar shuffles back and away a few steps, trying very hard to look like that had nothing to do with Alberich just declaring that he was in charge and you were expected to be subordinate to him. This is probably the first time it's come up between the Governor and the Regency Council. It's certainly the first that you've heard about, since you weren't even aware that Duilio was active like this. That means that your reaction here is likely to determine something about how the two de facto powers rising after the Great Dying interact with each other, especially since Alberich just cut out the potential that you could just work amicably together and let politicians and bureaucrats work out the details to make things smooth.
"You probably should listen to the boyar," you say, cutting off Zahira, who was probably going to be less helpful. "You do need to get caught up, since you came so late."
Alberich forces a bark of a laugh, slapping your upper arm in a companionable way that fools no one, and turns his attention to the boyar.
"So... you have a plan, then, boss?" Samir follows them with his eyes as they head back to the boyar's office, just in case you're about to tell him to put an arrow in one or both of them.
"Yes..." Your mind whirls.
[ ] Plan to jump the gun. Sail around the island and land closer to the spring, then fight your way in and claim it yourself.
[ ] Plan to work together. Force Alberich to treat you as an equal and cooperate to get to the spring and keep the town safe.
[ ] Plan to stay in town. Let Alberich do the dangerous part he already said he planned to, while you stay safer and be more visible to the locals.
Dawn
If your work weren't so satisfying, it would be terrible. You've spent your days dealing with everything from hasing out theology with Ant and the little priesthood you've developed around her all the way through to simple administrative details, like what sort of color scheme is appropriate for the rows of pews.
There can be no question that Ant is the strongest spirit anyone in the capital or the rest of the lands the Regency Council oversees, as well as an important part of the new power structure. The exact line between a great spirit and a god has always been very blurry and given to political calls, so no one (save the tiny remaining sliver of her minor priests who survived, the same way Zahira did) complained when you proposed that the temple of Shin-Quela, the old queen of the gods, would be repurposed into Ant's temple. After all, just like with Shin-Quela, Ant is the iron fist within the velvet glove that explains to the rest of the Empire exactly what benefit there is to staying loyal. This is the god who could get turned against someone or against their enemies, so make the wise choice.
Your office is somewhat spartan. You like it that way. You don't need luxury to do paperwork or to think, and there's an overly plush and gilded library you can turn to if you do need to meet with someone who thinks that sort of needless decadence is a sign of power.
You're in that office when a knock comes at the door. It swings open without waiting for you. It's Plai. Plai has become your second in command: she was an under-priest of Bel-Kirandu when the Great Dying came, and actually watched the hearth god topple over dead. Her value as an experienced priestess is that she has relevant experience, allowing you to create this new order with a minimum of avoidable mistakes.
Plai has made no bones about her ambition. She's hitched her star to yours because you're a path for her to get ahead. As such, she's served as a general-purpose tool, who makes things work without bothering you unnecessarily, because doing so helps her, too.
You're both pretty okay with this.
"Yes, Plai?"
She dumps a series of papers and note-strings onto the roughly-defined chunk of your desk that serves as an inbox. "Mail," she says. "I went through it and weeded out the useless and fawning things. They're on the bottom. Most important thing is from the Admiral General."
It is on top, of course. You pick it up. The seal's been broken, which is how she knows what it is. You scan it. Your eyebrows arch in surprise, and you turn to Plai. "This is for real?"
Plai nods, takes one of the two seats opposite you, and puts her booted feet on the edge of your desk. Your look turns harsher. Her feet come down with a sigh. "Yes, it's real. Remember that shady office that opened in the first week after the Great Dying, that promised it could awaken elementalism in people and only a few people died trying to get it?" You nod. It wasn't a big deal for you, but you remembered its existence. "Well, guess what? A good chunk of their success stories are turning to failures. The magical matrix isn't stable, and they're suddenly finding themselves without magic. And, naturally, the office is closed and the people who ran it left without leaving a forwarding address."
"I didn't know that sort of loss could happen."
"It wasn't very common, before. The people we had training then knew what they were doing. Try to recreate things without that knowledge and sometimes you mess up."
She's emphasizing her own value, as if you weren't rubbing elbows with priests or priestesses the whole time you were in Tal-Roshath's temple. You ignore that. "That explains this, then." The Admiral General's request is written in frozenly formal language, and is hoping that the Temple of Ant can supply magic-users with the power to directly move military vessels.
This sort of shipmage post was normally the bailiwick of conceptual mages or elementalists who could command wind or waves, but there aren't many of the former around right now and Plai's news is that some of the latter aren't maintaining their powers. Ant's picked up some water-themed powers from you and can pass them on to others through Contracts: Plai is one of them, for instance, a twice-distorted echo of your own elementalism. It does make sense that Admiral General Hobi is hoping you can fill the difference. His navy is beginning to get its feet wet on anti-piracy excursions, along with general flag-waving outings, so being able to actually direct ships without being at the whim of the wind is important.
It's a pity that Ant doesn't want many more Contracts. She's already complaining that the ones she has made are giving her a running headache.
"We'll deal with that later," you decide, throwing it back on the pile. It's a good sort of problem to have, the problem of a civilization that's got an authority structure in place and is trying to find the best way to optimize that.
Plai shrugs diffidently and stands to follow you. You do have somewhere to be, after all.
As you exit your office and make your way out through the hallways of the temple, you run into one other person. "Hello, Ma'ams!" says Innes with a brilliant smile.
Innes is another of your new priests; he was one of the class of intended sacrifices for Tal-Roshath that came after yours; the practice had been to assemble a cohort for a few years, then train and sacrifice, meaning Innes was from the last group that would ever be assembled in Tal-Roshath's name. You and the others were on the younger side of your group, where he is on the older side of his. He is a much simpler person than Plai, by all appearances, mostly just seeming to be excited to be helpful and useful, while not really having a place where he shows any specific talent or use.
You put him in charge of the children's ministries.
"Hello, Innes," you say, with a nod. Innes comes along with no further prompting than that, in a weird side-walk so he doesn't get left behind but can also talk to you while at least sort of facing you. "Did you get things together?"
He nods, energetically. "I spent two days checking with every confectioner in the city, but I should have enough sweets to give out to every child along the parade's route now!"
"That's good." You don't really need the pomp of it all, but the Regency Council is right in the value of declaring a holiday. Public celebration should help maintain popular confidence in the new order, showing that there is nothing to worry about. Thus, the Council is officially celebrating Prince Ketut's birthday as the new Emperor. It's not actually his birthday, but apparently this type of 'official' birthday is more common than you had realized.
The schedule of events for the parade has some of the common entries, such as jugglers and clowns. Ant's agreed to pop out here and there for people to ooh over, which she always likes. You have one of the more draining parts of the whole event, as you are expected to put on a show of your elementalism through much of it, commanding flame and water so that the populace can see it and believe heroes and mages are close enough to fully back.
Plai and Innes and everyone else who can justify a reason to be in it, will be. Ketut, still a baby, will be carried along and presented, but hopefully with the help of his nannies he won't do much beyond sleep through it while things happen around him. Crying babies don't enhance any events.
- -
The parade goes smoothly, though you find yourself tired by the end of it. It devolves, as these things often do, into a general haphazard mess at the parade's end point, with some people trying to arrange public dancing and others seeing this as a chance to sell goods and almost certainly some pickpockets seeing it as their best chance to score a big mark. Some people are trying to sell food, some are trying to encourage a spirit of public sharing, and more.
Kalju, Ariel, and a few of that ilk are here in Regency Council colors, serving as another pointed reminder of the fact that someone is, in fact, in charge, beyond also potentially acting as general crowd control. You wonder exactly how well Ariel could fill that role, but it's a distant thought that's mostly overwhelmed by the general hollow feeling in your bones.
Your elemental show was draining; exerting magical force for that length of time exhausts your reserves, and the only cure for that is sleep, food, and time, as your body replenishes itself. You and Innes have retired to a raised, covered pavilion set up to one side. Technically, it's not set aside for anything in particular, but just being up a few steps is enough for people to assume it's only for designated people, meaning that you have it to yourself, and can rest in the shade.
Innes is nattering on about a logic puzzle he brought to kids last week, and how proud he is of whoever managed to solve it and the clever wrong answers he got, but you don't listen too much. It's his area, and you are happy that it doesn't have to be yours.
It's in this quiet downtime when you feel a sudden signal in your head. It's as if you heard a drop of water hit a still underground pool. It's a tiny signal, but it echoes all the more clearly due to the silence. You look up sharply, which Innes doesn't even react to. That wasn't nothing, you realize. It was someone flaring their own magical power, making a sort of sympathetic vibration you can feel.
You look here and there, but no one else seems to have noticed, nor can you identify the signal. It's not a magical signature you can recall having seen before, and it's a surprisingly potent one. The sort who would not have survived the Great Dying, though it would have been on the lower end of the affected.
The feel continues until you realize that it was directional, a pulse from a specific source and aimed at you. You look at the direction it came from. There's a woman sitting alone on an abandoned crate, just off the main area. She pretends she just happened to glance your way as you look at her. She gives you a tiny, two-finger wave and a subtle nod of the head.
You feel Ant stir, her attention awakening from the pendant to follow your senses, too. "What do you make of that, Ant?" you murmur.
"I think someone's trying to meet with us," Ant says. "Pity. If it was someone who just wanted to kill you, you'd probably let me rip her apart. They're not a threat to me, but they are in about your 'weight class', plus or minus how skilled they are... but that's an odd power. I haven't felt exactly anything like it before."
"So what do we do?"
"I thought making that sort of petty decision was why I have priestesses now." Ant lets amusement color her mental speech. "But to at least try to be helpful, it's more about how you handle this. She clearly knows you who are, but it's up to you to react now. How formal do you want to be? There's advantages to formality and informality, so try to dictate how you want to address people of some power but unknown station and disposition. Assuming you don't just want me to physically manifest, go pick her up, and carry her back here, protesting as I do."
"No, don't do that." You think over your options.
[ ] Go over, informally, and just happen to have a conversation. Whatever is going on, there's no need to start with it escalated.
[ ] Send Innes over, with an invitation to come to your office tomorrow afternoon. You can stay in control by having everything on your home turf and on your timetable.
[ ] If she wants to talk to you, she should have done it formally. This is an inappropriate way, and a potential threat. Ask Kalju to detain her.
[ ] Ignore her. If she wants to speak to the high priestess of Ant, she can put in a supplication same as anyone else.
- -
Happy one year anniversary!
Sorry this took so long. Just fell into a hole where I didn't write for too long, and I actually had trouble getting what I wanted out of both Azer's and Dawn's sections, so neither section was ready much before the other. Then I needed to introduce a lot of stuff to get this new bit of story underway and I realized how long it was getting and thought "hey, an update of this size would make a nice anniversary thing for the thread!", which is the only reason this is posted today instead of posting one part first and which would have been... less than a week ago. Yeah, it took me a bit to be happy with this.
I'm not going to promise that we'll see both Dawn and Azer in every update from here out; I fully reserve the right to focus on one or the other temporarily for pacing reasons.
TwistedJester
Tired Lurker King
- Location
- Hell
[X] Plan to work together. Force Alberich to treat you as an equal and cooperate to get to the spring and keep the town safe.
[X] Send Innes over, with an invitation to come to your office tomorrow afternoon. You can stay in control by having everything on your home turf and on your timetable.
[X] Send Innes over, with an invitation to come to your office tomorrow afternoon. You can stay in control by having everything on your home turf and on your timetable.
- Location
- PA
So, Samir? He sounds like he's wants us to do something to knock the others down a peg.
[] Plan to stay in town. Let Alberich do the dangerous part he already said he planned to, while you stay safer and be more visible to the locals.
-[]Mention Lady Ariel's name to any local who didn't like the cut of Alberich's jib.
--[]See if Samir has any additional ideas to make Alberich's stay on this island...INTERESTING.
Because the more I see of the Regency Council the more I think we should have given this to the Lady. And I kind of want to see about swinging out these Regency Council folks.
As for Dawn? Well. That Elementalist thing...I'm HIGHLY concerned about that. I mean it could just be a 'fading power dealie'...Except...As I understood it? Elementalism seems to be more an...ENLIGHTENMENT! kind of trick. So to have it and then lose it? ESPECIALLY SUDDENLY!?! That reads to me massively like somebody handed out seeds of power, and then when the people had gotten some serious gains from said power, ripped it out of them. So somebody is running around with some serious biggatons of magical power now. Also was that office mentioned before or was it more a 'path not taken coming to fruit' thing?
Mystery lady is odd but uhh...Well, we shall see...As for formality? Given Ant's theme of struggle, I don't actually WANT high formality.
[X] Go over, informally, and just happen to have a conversation. Whatever is going on, there's no need to start with it escalated.
[] Plan to stay in town. Let Alberich do the dangerous part he already said he planned to, while you stay safer and be more visible to the locals.
-[]Mention Lady Ariel's name to any local who didn't like the cut of Alberich's jib.
--[]See if Samir has any additional ideas to make Alberich's stay on this island...INTERESTING.
Because the more I see of the Regency Council the more I think we should have given this to the Lady. And I kind of want to see about swinging out these Regency Council folks.
As for Dawn? Well. That Elementalist thing...I'm HIGHLY concerned about that. I mean it could just be a 'fading power dealie'...Except...As I understood it? Elementalism seems to be more an...ENLIGHTENMENT! kind of trick. So to have it and then lose it? ESPECIALLY SUDDENLY!?! That reads to me massively like somebody handed out seeds of power, and then when the people had gotten some serious gains from said power, ripped it out of them. So somebody is running around with some serious biggatons of magical power now. Also was that office mentioned before or was it more a 'path not taken coming to fruit' thing?
Mystery lady is odd but uhh...Well, we shall see...As for formality? Given Ant's theme of struggle, I don't actually WANT high formality.
[X] Go over, informally, and just happen to have a conversation. Whatever is going on, there's no need to start with it escalated.
Hm.
Azer's decision. Mostly about the Regency Council's foreign (ish) policy.
[ ] Plan to jump the gun. Sail around the island and land closer to the spring, then fight your way in and claim it yourself.
-Establishes the Regency Council as being very hands on and lays tacit claim to the island, with the least delegation but the most potential shinies.
[X] Plan to work together. Force Alberich to treat you as an equal and cooperate to get to the spring and keep the town safe.
-[X] Place personal priority on pursuing pertinent details on Alberich's powers.
-Middle of the road, with the most political wrangling but also being unlikely to cause issues with the Governor.
[ ] Plan to stay in town. Let Alberich do the dangerous part he already said he planned to, while you stay safer and be more visible to the locals.
-Very hands off, with the least short term risk but little reward and lets the Governor claim primacy in this area.
I'm gonna go with the middle road, I think we need more info on the Governor before we really commit to one tack or another.
Dawn's decision. More about internal politics/management.
[ ] Go over, informally, and just happen to have a conversation. Whatever is going on, there's no need to start with it escalated.
-Friendly, but could seem weak and doesn't really leave room to delegate in the future.
[X] Send Innes over, with an invitation to come to your office tomorrow afternoon. You can stay in control by having everything on your home turf and on your timetable.
-Middle road again, being friendly/approachable but still trying to stay in control.
[ ] If she wants to talk to you, she should have done it formally. This is an inappropriate way, and a potential threat. Ask Kalju to detain her.
-Very fussy about heirarchies and traditional ways of doing things. I'm not sure if we're established enough to be pulling this off without looking like we're putting on airs.
[ ] Ignore her. If she wants to speak to the high priestess of Ant, she can put in a supplication same as anyone else.
-Bold power move to establish dominance. High risk/reward.
This lady seems to have some sort of connenction to the Old World, which ought to get our personal attention. On the other hand, she's not really any stronger than we are, so there's no real need to drop everything to go talk to her.
Azer's decision. Mostly about the Regency Council's foreign (ish) policy.
[ ] Plan to jump the gun. Sail around the island and land closer to the spring, then fight your way in and claim it yourself.
-Establishes the Regency Council as being very hands on and lays tacit claim to the island, with the least delegation but the most potential shinies.
[X] Plan to work together. Force Alberich to treat you as an equal and cooperate to get to the spring and keep the town safe.
-[X] Place personal priority on pursuing pertinent details on Alberich's powers.
-Middle of the road, with the most political wrangling but also being unlikely to cause issues with the Governor.
[ ] Plan to stay in town. Let Alberich do the dangerous part he already said he planned to, while you stay safer and be more visible to the locals.
-Very hands off, with the least short term risk but little reward and lets the Governor claim primacy in this area.
I'm gonna go with the middle road, I think we need more info on the Governor before we really commit to one tack or another.
Dawn's decision. More about internal politics/management.
[ ] Go over, informally, and just happen to have a conversation. Whatever is going on, there's no need to start with it escalated.
-Friendly, but could seem weak and doesn't really leave room to delegate in the future.
[X] Send Innes over, with an invitation to come to your office tomorrow afternoon. You can stay in control by having everything on your home turf and on your timetable.
-Middle road again, being friendly/approachable but still trying to stay in control.
[ ] If she wants to talk to you, she should have done it formally. This is an inappropriate way, and a potential threat. Ask Kalju to detain her.
-Very fussy about heirarchies and traditional ways of doing things. I'm not sure if we're established enough to be pulling this off without looking like we're putting on airs.
[ ] Ignore her. If she wants to speak to the high priestess of Ant, she can put in a supplication same as anyone else.
-Bold power move to establish dominance. High risk/reward.
This lady seems to have some sort of connenction to the Old World, which ought to get our personal attention. On the other hand, she's not really any stronger than we are, so there's no real need to drop everything to go talk to her.
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