[X] Promote, into...
-[X] Queen
[X] Memories of the Time Before
[X] Suit
---
A Time to Duel
The Ceremony of Queening was ordinarily a highly formal affair and a time of jubilation and celebration among a Kingdom's citizens and elites. It was the ultimate cementation of a King's strength and authority, for a properly-developed Queen was nigh-undefeatable on any battlefield she or he cared to specialize in, whether that of combat, scholarship, government, or something more esoteric.
It was often culturally synonymous with matrimony, as the most important choice a ruler could ever make, as a King could only ever have one Queen, and not even death could do them part - while there was precedent for homogenous pairings, and even ones that weren't strictly romantic in nature, it was uncommon and often scoffed upon as a sign of desperation, as though the King couldn't find a worthwhile wife, or in a female King's case, a husband.
The Ceremony was often preceded by weeks of preparations and other observances to ensure the ritual's value was maximized, but they didn't have that luxury. Dorian had to abscond down the Street within a matter of hours after setting the provisional government of the Emirate in order. They'd only have time for a modest, informal gathering.
"Your Majesty, are you certain about this?" asked Linneas, with the other companions gathered within the reconstructed throne hall of the palace, the crimson tapestries lining the walls so new they were only woven yesterday.
"You said Queenship is decided on the basis of trust?" asked Dorian. "Then I trust you, Linneas of the Crimson Kingdom - to uphold the law in my absence and remain dutiful to the better nation we're creating. This is what history asks of us."
Linneas nodded and bowed hi torso, no more falling to one knee in obeisance, for Dorian had trained that servile habit out of him.
"My life, for your Kingdom."
"Then, I make you my Queen."
They clasped hands, firm and tight, like adamant shackles that bound servant and liege mutually. A molten crimson string pulsed from Dorian's heart and shot through their arms into Linneas, as if a single artery were connecting their cores, a link so ephemeral that Viscerality couldn't touch it. Through that connection flowed a painful, almost stinging feeling of rarefied power with a heat like sun-flame that Linneas seemed to drain out of him like a vampire suckling on the circulation of its victim, as if Dorian were being emptied of some primordial golden star-power. It felt, almost simultaneously, like the superb clarity of crisp realization and the absence within a starved stomach.
It was an overwhelming sensation of weakness, and Dorian finally understood the reasoning behind all those purportedly necessary weeks of preparations - even with his Visceral enhancements, even with the Barakah churning about his spirit, it felt as if he were giving everything of himelf to exalt Linneas, heightening every aspect of his Queen's being, at the cost of his autonomy. Even the connection that linked them became mightier, like some titanic root, and wider like a tunnel, as if the metaphorical artery were expanding into some vessel of circulation one tier above that.
Once it did, it calcified into something almost solid, like a marble pillar or an iron chain, and Dorian understood in that exact second - he could've stopped and reversed the ritual before this exact moment, could've still changed his mind - but now the choice was set in stone, irreversible. This was Dorian's Queen forevermore.
The drain of Dorian's spirit continued - it didn't intensify its draw, but simply didn't abate, continuously taking of Dorian to amplify his Queen's being.
Finally, after a long minute of draining, once the exertion became nigh-unbearable, feeling as if Dorian' marrow were filling with a steel-cold void that sapped bodily heat and made him delirious with itself, he withdrew his arm. The connection shut down instantly and Dorian almost collapsed to one knee from the sudden feeling of overwhelming weakness, before Linneas rushed forward and stabilized him, channeling immediate Visceral concern and focusing entirely on healing Dorian; the strength of concern for the monarch's welfare was such that even this metaphysiologically acute exhaustion was mitigated. It was that feeling which killed off any of Dorian's lingering doubts.
He'd made the right choice.
Linneas sat Dorian down on a couch, where Dorian was surrounded by his companions for a moment, accepting a glass of water with a mixture of organic and synthetic vitamins and medicines from Doctor Musorov, as well as an astrological benediction from Japhris, to enhance his vital Barakah. He felt better within ten minutes, enough to stand, but noticed the ceremony had weakened him permanently; his muscles felt weak and atrophied. Lots of Visceral refinement progress was lost irretrievably. Even the shrill, keen sharpness of his mind felt minimally dulled. The ceremony had truly taken everything from him.
But a King was never meant to stand alone, and the strength that Linneas now wielded was testament to that.
"We'll see you soon, my liege," said Linneas, every feature of his face magnified to a downright shocking apex of heroic chivalry, once-charcoal eyes now shining with crimson zeal. No more a peasant, but a rugged champion and protagonist of his own tale. Even Barakah had anointed him. "Never forget the keys to your Kingdom."
Dorian nodded.
Then, it was finally time to set off down the Street Where the Stones Speak, as he'd done in the beginning. Its sweet cadence was already reaching his ears and announcing the end of its long stay on Providence. What a welcome way to forget the drudgery of the war campaign.
Naturally, Dorian's entire honor guard insisted on seeing him off, wishing to see and credit their King one last time until the long solstice of his return - almost three dozen soldiers, most of them Pawns or else great heroes. Many of the Misrashani troops loaned out to him begged their Caliph to be allowed to stay as citizens of the newly minted Emirate, and the Caliph had endorsed all those requests, understanding well the loyalty born of strife. They were adorned in their finest, ceremonial armor and chanted his name and titles as he was walked across the recently repaired promenade, waving to the citizens alongside his companions.
...This was nice, wasn't it? They'd created good, in a manner of speaking. It could've been done better, managed better, perhaps - had Barakah not been so obstinate about narratives, many more lives could've been saved, many more people's welfare satisfied... But still, he looked and saw the faces of children not even a week ago bedridden with famine and disease, smiling and laughing, healthy and fed. Their parents had homes to dwell in and would soon have the work needed to make a respectable living. This was a nation that did not have slaves anymore, a happy nation. He'd helped forge this sight that welcomed his eyes.
Finally, the Street enveloped him, the Mask, and a third party who'd walked under concealment - an essential shroud, bending away the hostility of sunlight and the stares of the citizens, who surely would've fallen into shock upon sighting him.
"How unthinkably inconsiderate," Jukah cavilled with a chuckle, even as he started to glance around the Street with a strange sense of inexplicable wonder and genuine surprise, unconcealed by any tells of Practiced deception. "To make one's vampiric steward walk in the light of day..."
"Cease your complaints, you are a wizard," said Dorian. "How do you like your freedom?"
Jukah nodded slowly and held out a hand.
A boreal chain appeared pinched between two fingers like a cigar, as if some celestial voyager had torn the aurora out of the firmanent and forged a fetter from its shifting light. The chain was fracturing apart steadily with each beat and note of the Street's song, like thumping feet creating cracks on ice, and it was shaking as if the distance between Jukah and Providence were too immense, too stressful for its mere enchanted power to handle. Then Jukah squeezed with full force and it shattered entirely with a sound like the chime of a crystalline bell, boreal shards discorporating as they fell to the Street.
"As predicted... Roderick's edict holds me no more," said Jukah, a tone of satisfaction audible. He hummed, a sound of deep pleasure, a delight so lofty that it read to Dorian's Viscerality almost as powerfully as an orgasm, if slightly more cerebral. "At long last, I am free. Liberated of all the limitations he'd imposed on me. What a glorious feeling. I thought I'd left all fear behind long ago, but coming here made me realize, I'd still been afraid I might never be freed. Thank you for this, my liege."
"Glorious," said Mask, having shifted into the form of a clerk. He seemed unusually dour. "Let's continue down the road, then."
Dorian nodded. Then, with a frown, turned his attention towards his Barakah.
As they set off down the Street, it seemed their Barakah was... turning inert? It was a subtle but unmistakable sensation, almost damnably pervasive, as if the weight of one's own flesh were suddenly subtly lighter, or like releasing a breath one had been holding for a long time without exhaling.
"You sensed it as well?" asked Jukah, sounding impressed. "Roderick and I noticed this phenomenon a while ago. The Force of Providence, predictably, does not work properly off Providence. While we found that one's Barakah retains its full strength, it cannot develop anymore, as there is no judging narrative to confer new fates. Likewise, it loses most of its directionality, if you will. Blandly generic, it's more universally applicable; less specialized... At least my fear aura shouldn't be a problem anymore."
Dorian did, in fact, notice that Jukah somehow seemed - in a very subtle manner - vastly less formidable. He wasn't aware this was a side effect of the fear aura disappearing. He frowned and considered the subtlety of this phenomenon, to better account for similar circumstances in the future.
"Based on your tone, I assume you've already figured out a spell to solve the issue?" asked Dorian.
Jukah chuckled. "Well, 'solve' is a strong word, but I do have a couple of balms to address the unfortunate side effects if you wish. As you understand, my main concern was ever if I would make it off the world. Preparations for when it happened were secondary."
He nodded, and Jukah went on: "Yes, I have spells. One of them, that can 'simulate' the ontological law of Providence to an extent, thereby returning some of one's specialization in Barakah. Another, that synthesizes Barakah out of one's spirit."
He raised an eyebrow. "You never mentioned that."
"You never asked," said Jukah. "Besides, a wizard must keep their tricks in reserve, in case they are needed. I confess, I did not entirely trust your commitement to our deal beforehand, Your Majesty, even with my cold-reading as supernally superb as it is, so I was holding out on you a bit. You've upheld your end, however, so I see no more reason to reserve the truth about what I am capable of. But before that discussion, as we are now co-travelers, you should perhaps explain to us your prior adventures on other worlds, and I shall do likewise, for what Roderick and I had experienced."
And so Dorian did, recounting each world and adventure.
Jukah was most interested in Demimonde, remarking, "What an unexpected coincidence. We also visited that world, but that was over two millennia ago. Still... to think there was such a thing as a Moonwolf there all along. What a bizarre circumstance. It's all gone to hell, you say?"
"Hell and back, although there are survivors," said Dorian. Then he considered for a moment. "If it came down to it, could you defeat the Moonwolf?"
Jukah raised an eyebrow, finding the question curious on some level, perhaps suspecting Dorian intended to eventually hunt it down. "Hard to say without analyzing the beast with my own senses first. You are not even a direct witness; indeed, your accounting was received from an indirect witness; even if I were a masterful diviner, collecting useful data from a report that could have any amount of errors, hidden inconsistencies, or exaggerations would be a feat of herculean mentation. Naively thinking, a creature the size of a mountain range whose howl shattered the Moon... well, such beasts are often very adaptable and cunning, not to mention mighty. It'd be difficult."
"But would you lose?"
"No," said Jukah, confidently, "I would be victorious."
"A high opinion of your own might," said Mask.
"An accurate opinion," Jukah refuted. "Do not forget I was a Huntsman's companion, and were I to assume my body as I was then, I would've won our fight."
Then Jukah elucidated some on Roderick and his own travels.
Unlike Dorian, they did not traverse the multiverse using the Street, which wound inconsistently across the Hierarchal tapestry, but rather, utilizing something called the Authority of Celestial Voyages - a grandiose Title of magical power native to Jukah's homeworld, the Thousand Estates. It allowed the Voyaging King to freely traverse ontologies as he pleased, creating rifts and shunting himself into them with a particular direction. For a long time, Roderick had traveled on a course whose heading could be translated conceptually as 'benevolent divinity.' He sought deities with whom one could make positive-sum compacts, who had sincerely good intentions for mankind.
There were roadblocks and interesting steps on that path of travel. Providence, which was ontologically near the Estates was one of their earlier stops, to which they frequently returned to resupply and rethink national strategy. Then were Pleroma, Demimonde, a dozen minor others. Eventually, they found the gates of Shekhinah, a world of celestial angels and a single allegedly omnipotent god, who nonetheless refused contact with the outside multiverse, saying it was too threatening for his people. There, the Voyaging King had found another companion, an angel named Nahaliel, whom Jukah seemed to recall with some bitterness, as if she were a rival to his own policies.
Eventually, the mission was termed unsuccessful, and so they returned back the same way they came.
They encountered no one on the Street, and eventually - after many, many hours of walking and talking about travel - ended up on an unremarkable world with a timer of a bit under a single day. This was a sphere of clement and benign biomes, but warlike and tribal societies, where the natural magic was chiefly in how simple the denizens found it to master the art of war, elevating their combat skills to peak-human level with a preternatural instinct and speed, with even their prepubescent children capable of potentially defeating the adult civilians of other worlds. Furthermore, this proclivity to war drove their leaders to glory and allowed supernal attainments.
Jukah deemed their methods and magic rather primitive, basically a worse version of the Practice - not worth the time and effort they'd have to spend on acquisition - and advised Dorian not to waste the Door's opening here. The ontological distance to Providence would mean it'd only remain open for a short amount of time and only allow an unreliable amount of equipment and manpower through, meaning companions might be stranded as a consequence. It wasn't worth the attempted conquest at this point in time and they could return in the future with spatial spells.
Dorian agreed.
Instead, that day was spent mostly on practicing Viscerality and Essentialism, and recovering the motes of Dorian's strength that he'd burned out when empowering Linneas. He'd fallen to near-mortal levels, and would've been reliant mostly on Barakah for projecting power otherwise. Mask took some time instead to adventure among the tribals and earned himself a new, warlike mien after aiding a chief's son in defeating his rival; the cautious form of a spear-wielding sentinel was now within his closet.
Then, after that 'minor' diversion, they set off down the Street, whereupon it started to sing the song of a longer and more meaningful stay - an entire ten days on a world that felt, to Dorian's auditory sense, peaceful and decidedly non-warlike or apocalyptic. That said, there was a tenor of something stranger inside the Street's anthem.
A tenor of... children's card games? When he reported this, Jukah's emotions felt like a mix of amusement and sincere bafflement.
Nonetheless, they walked, and eventually the Street deposited them at their new location. They emerged in a verdant, beautifully maintained park full of massive oak trees and picturesque flower gardens, brimming with singing birds. It was midday and there were people walking about, clearly enjoying the summer weather.
"How peaceful," said Jukah with a harsh hiss, wincing for a fraction of a second before rapidly creating a darkening spell around himself to quell the sunlight's effects, then layering an illusion of his normal self atop that as to not draw strange looks.
Dorian removed his Streetwalker's mask and assessed the surroundings, before his keen ear heard the sound of what was undoubtedly combat - a sudden rush of magical fire, followed by an almost ghostlike grunt. Jukah and Mask noticed this as well, all three of them now looking over at the source.
In one of the sections of the otherwise peaceful park, fenced off with plexiglass and bleachers on which several dozen people sat, was some kind of improptu arena - albeit shaped more like a basketball court, with a concrete floor and chalk-drawn lines. Inside that court stood a boy and a girl - children, no more than ten years old - each holding a deck of cards that seemed to glow with magic. Between them was a strange, phantasmagorical arrangement of creatures and bizarre magics which stood facing each other.
Curious, all three wayfarers approached to observe.
The girl was breathing raggedly, one eye closed as she played several cards that produced flocks of magical flying creatures on the board. They ran the full gamut of birds but often had curious, fantastical features; from robins with diamondine feathers to a stern red-beaked hawk with a royal disposition that Dorian felt a strange affinity for.
Silently, the boy drew a card from his deck and narrated the actions he was performing as if explaining them for the consideration of the audience, "I sacrifice my Fireling to the Eternal Bonfire so it can empower the next card I play. Then I draw and play... Flame Emperor!" He threw down the card he'd drawn and it enlarged on the field only to wink out and be replaced by a ginormous entity reminiscent of an almost cartoonishly muscular ifrit, wearing a gilded crown whose tines turned into wicks of flame,
"Great Dyad," whispered one of the spectators with the inflection of disbelief, "Look! He's empowering his Flame Emperor with the Eternal Bonfire! His Flame Emperor's now almost twice as powerful as before, and it has a shield that'll consume the power of any creature that attacks it and add it to itself!"
"How's Susie ever going to win now?" another asked with astonishment. They were clearly enraptured in the duel.
Dorian assessed the state of the board with a clinical eye, thinking. It appeared the girl's creatures were avian, whereas the boy's were all fiery, and it seemed the latter was steadily winning via whatever arcane rules they used. They were not limited to creatures either. It seemed the cards produced virtually everything from enchanted territories to various spells, and this was clearly some kind of structured game, where they summoned forth their effects to defeat the opponent and prove their superiority.
"Interesting," Jukah commented, "I've never seen a methodology of spirit-binding as bizarre as this... If only Roderick had seen this; it definitely beats out Infernalism."
Dorian glanced at him and erected a subtle privacy ward, to deflect eavesdropping. "Any clues as to how it works?"
"Yes, I've taken the liberty of scanning the minds of these spectators for information and found out some interesting things," reported Jukah. "Apparently, children on this world can naturally see into... I am not quite sure yet as to the exact nature of this phenomenon, but it seems like parallel planes of existence, to which various spirits and supernatural phenomena are native. These children can then bind these spirits via mutual compact into decks to use for play in tournaments such as here, or simply for power. This supernatural sight is apparently related to one's 'innocence.'"
"Innocence?" asked Mask.
"Rather vagarious as a term, I concur, but everyone in the audience mentally agrees it's true. For those who lose their innocence, the sight fades. They can still wield whatever cards they'd gathered until then, of course, but after it's faded, they are stuck with their current set for, essentially, the rest of their life."
"Can cards be traded?" asked Dorian, already thinking of exploits to enter this system of binding - a child's mask to simulate innocence, perhaps?
"It's hard to say for now," Jukah answers. "None of these spectators seem truly 'hardcore' about this magical sport. That said, it seems to form the basis of their society. These cards are universal and abundant among the denizens of this world. The spirits, if defeated, simply retreat back into the card which contains some kind of micro-realm, to reconvalesce. Likewise, the more vulgar magics deployed become noumena and restore themselves, so ultimately nothing is lost. It seems they use these spirits and magics for literally everything, from cooking to helping with everyday task. Even running the governments: whoever wins their highest card tournament becomes the leader of the nation... or at least, this seems to be the case in most countries. The world is not unified under one banner."
"Wait," said Mask. "Their... entire governmental structure, is decided by who's the best at card games?"
"Yes."
"What a horrible world," said Mask intantly, clearly imagining the incompetence this must've resulted in.
"Actually..." said Jukah, chuckling already, as if amused at their reaction, "It seems to be working out extremely well for them. I am divining this world as we speak, and, in fact, this seems to be an extremely prosperous civilization with virtually all common issues of scarcity eliminated. It's much better on average than my own homeworld. In fact, it seems plainly superior in terms of quality of life to any world I've ever seen, perhaps excepting Shekhinah or other such outliers."
"You're certain?"
Jukah made a so-and-so gesture. "Hmm, well, it seems there was an upset with some great evil a while ago," he replied. "It'll take a while to divine what it actually was, but I am fairly sure it is defeated. Certainly, none of the people around us are even slightly concerned that anything bad will happen to them or their world, unlike Providence where everyone at least subconsciously feared the Hour of Doom. These people are very carefree."
"Then," said Dorian, as the card battle ahead of them concluded, with the girl claiming a sudden, unexpected victory, "it seems we have our work cut out for us."
---
You have ten days on Suit.
Would you like to spend some Street leeway to prolong it?
[ ] Stay ten days - default
[ ] Stay a fortnight - costs considerable Street favor, next set of worlds will be mildly unfavorable
[ ] Stay a month - costs lots of Street favor, next set of worlds will be moderately unfavorable
What do you do on Suit?
[ ] Assemble a Powerful Deck - Ignore comfiness, acquire incredible supernatural might. Dorian will totally ignore the society and circumstances of this world and focus entirely on assembling the most powerful deck of eidolons and spells he can.
[ ] Enter a Tournament - A mixture of acquiring power and selfish comfort: test your strength against all-comers in a local tournament. You'll need a rules-legal deck approved by the Global Card Commission to enter and participate, naturally, but that can be easily assembled in a short amount of time with a mask to replicate the power of a child's innocence. This way, you get to have a bit of genuine fun and actually not feel guilt over not pursuing superhuman strength.
[ ] Vacation Time - High quality of life, or so says Jukah. Given how superbly rare that is in your experience, perhaps you could take a week to de-stress and rethink your actions? It could provide substantial clarity to your future plans, and it seems like the best use of this world's alloted timespan at any rate. You can also aim to meet some interesting people, shake hands with those in power, maybe even introduce yourself as a multiversal traveler to experience celebrity fame for a bit! Gotta Suit yourself, right?
[ ] Train - Actually, this spiritual cartomancy doesn't interest you that much. You'd much rather have your own strength than rely on something as fickle as bound spirits: your experience with djinn gave you a distaste for such affairs. Instead, you'll focus on your masks, Viscerality, and Essentialism and aim to get them up to par. You could also try to figure out that spell Jukah mentioned, to put your Barakah's aspectation back online.
[ ] Seek Out the Past - Jukah asserts the ancient evil of this world lies defeated. But is that the whole truth? Has the Vanguard of a New Destiny truly been overthrown? Or shall the Supreme Leader return yet and reclaim his deck, to once more subject the world to darkness? You feel strangely compelled to research the histories involved.
[ ] Write-in
---
Anointing a Queen weakened you unexpectedly. Your Attributes have dropped precipitousy:
STR: 20 (+30%)
CON: 20 (+30%)
AGI: 20 (+30%)
WIT: 25
In return, Linneas' have skyrocketed to absurd levels:
STR: 300 (+10%)
CON: 300 (+10%)
AGI: 140 (+10%)
WIT: 140
*Sufficient physical power to withstand multiple direct shots from an anti-tank rifle as if they were merely the blows of a human fist, and speed to casually run at Mach 1.7 with concomitant reactions. This doesn't account for Barakah or other magics/interactions, such as potential Visceral warform, which'd further catapult this all upwards.
*Furthermore, Linneas now has 450,000 fates' worth of Barakah, roughly equal with your own.
Each of Linneas' Powers have evolved, descriptions below:
Able Pawn -> The Queen Eternal
Agility -> Crimson Grace
Pawnwall -> Lead By Example
Armed and Dangerous - The Red Right Hand
The Queen Eternal - Grants Linneas a competence more or less equal to Dorian's own, but solely within the scope of a single task to which he's assigned: this covers everything from quality of intellect to interpersonal charm and empathy. It also covers skill, both mundane and magical. Linneas shall retain some knowledge and experience from each task, even when moving onto another one.
Furthermore, as long as Linneas is acting within the scope of the assigned task, he can add a significant portion (~50%) of Dorian's Barakah to his own. As long as both King and Queen are alive, their Barakah is supremely resistant to dissolution, shall slowly regenerate back to the level it was at when the Ceremony of Queenship was held, if it was lost, and if one party acquires more Barakah than the other, the other one shall receive some of those spoils so as to slowly equalize their Barakah.
Crimson Grace - Grants an additional 50 Agility and Wits, as well as a supernal kinesthetic sense and spatial reasoning, and instinct for movement in combat; avoidance of enemy strikes is an innate trait of Linneas' nature, more integral to him than his own heart, even capable of causing esoteric effects to 'veer' off if he is aware of them. In combat, his Visceral warforms tend towards sleek and fast hunter bodies with light armor but incredible motility.
Lead By Example - All Pawns, and to a lesser extent all Pieces, within Linneas' vicinity receive a minor boost of competence and Barakah as long as they are following an order issued to them, or else comporting themselves with the spirit of the Crimson Kingdom. The presence of Linneas bestows healing and reinforcement to all loyal subjects. Furthermore, Linneas receives the benefits of War-Leader at half-strength, likewise becoming stronger within the presence of the troops.
The Red Right Hand - The Queen's ability to affect one of his arms (only one at a time, but it can be either) with Viscerality is elevated and honed to a near-supernal level. From osseous blades and whips of monomolecular sharpness to condensed musclemass sufficient to punch through castle walls, both the versatility and strength of their mutations are like those of a grandmaster flesh-shaper. The emotional aspect of their Viscerality is elevated when performing hand gestures, such that a dismissive sweep of the hand can afflict onlookers with terrible malaise and resignation. Healing, too, is similarly bolstered, to such a degree that Linneas is almost unkillable so long as his arm exists, capable of rapidly regenerating solely from it, as if it were his heart.
Choose one option to capstone Linneas' potential as a Queen:
[ ] Elevate: The Queen Eternal - Instead, Linneas receives an greater portion of your Barakah, almost equal to its full value.
[ ] Elevate: Crimson Grace - Instead of 50 Agility and Wits, Linneas' effective speed is doubled.
[ ] Elevate: Lead By Example - Instead, Linneas receives the full effect of War-Leader.
[ ] Elevate: The Red Right Hand - Instead, all magics, not only Viscerality, are bolstered similarly when channeled through the hand, albeit to a moderately lesser degree.
