Andrew was in the “playroom”. He hung in the air, hanging in a negative space. Floating weightlessly and bonelessly, like a bloated corpse in the water. Technically, speaking it wasn’t him hanging in the air. It was just his body. The real Andrew was elsewhere, communing with the cosmos.
He was using the framework that he and Sophia had put in place with their initial root network and adding as much power as he could to the system to expand it. An epiphany had struck him and after running and testing a few models he was putting the discovery he’d made into the network.
Light poured from the eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, of Andrew’s body. The light was colored red, black, and gold, both ominous and saintly. Light poured from Andrew’s shadow as well, filling the playroom with a radiance.
Elsewhere, Andrew...the true-Andrew roared. His bellow echoing throughout the furthest reaches of the Blackrose galaxy. While he wasn’t so bold that he’d announce his name, his high spirits made him just rash enough to announce his presence within the galaxy. The parts of his mind that remained sane, relying on the anonymity lent to him by the vastness of space.
As Andrew expanded his power and urged his roots to extend outwards into every corner and twist of the Blackrose galaxy and the universe beyond, Andrew roared. Informing every immortal, god, devil, and high-fae within the Blackrose galaxy that was yet another unnamed titan within their midst. Yet another being that could shatter the stars and trample the heavens.
After completing his modification of the root network, Andrew returned to his body. Drained but satisfied. Feeling his entire being tremble as his corporeal body struggled to adjust to the refined power of his soul.
This was the power of his and Sophia’s nature at work. They were a guitar and amplifier, they were wandering hero and maiden. He was the gathering storm and the pooling and blood, she was refinement and implementation. The networks each of the eidolons made together reflected this.
Andrew’s roots tore through the worlds and gathered power. Sophia’s roots refined the energy of the heavens.
Their two networks had been fused into one and became a vast all-encompassing tangle. A monstrous bird nest for the devil-bird of Abwickeln and his alabaster queen to call home.
A great cosmic-briar that thanks to Andrew’s modifications would now grow ever onwards. Its progress guided by complex magical equations that would generate a never-ending supply of branches, roots, and seeds, even without direction from the two Eidolons.
A great construct that lay hidden from the eyes of mortal and immortal alike, while it ambitiously, albeit futilely, attempted to encapsulate all the energy of the infinite cosmos.
“Heh...This will either have been one of the best ideas I’ve ever had, or one of the worst things anyone’s ever done.” said Andrew. Momentarily worried that he might have done something that could spell the doom of the entire galaxy.
Andrew was amused to find he wasn’t really worried about which outcome would come to pass. He was simply satisfied because he’d done the work as he’d wanted and he could already feel the effects of his work.
If the worst came to pass, Andrew had prudently made sure to run the idea by Sophia to make sure that he’d accounted for most of the negative outcomes. So he figured even if his modifications had a downside they wouldn’t result in anything too bad, or too out of left field.
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Andrew followed his work with the root system with a nice long shower. Standing beneath the pulsing hot water, and letting the heat and water pressure ease his body’s adjustment to the growing strength of his soul.
Andrew’s shower was cut short by a chirrup from his glasses, which lay on the towels beyond the frosted glass chamber of the showers. Andrew sighed as he read the t-data for the glasses-shaped communication device. Then he got out of the shower and made his way to the bedroom to dress.
Fifteen minutes later, Andrew appeared within one of Baku’s many high-class cafes. He was dressed in business casual, wearing a sweat, chinos, black sock, and dress shoes. One of the many outfits that Sophia had hung up for him in his half of their closet, to avoid letting Andrew lazily fall back into his one outfit fits all tendencies.
“I’m sorry, I’m supposed to meet a G. Duncan here.” said Andrew. Speaking with the hostess of the establishment.
“Of course, sir...One moment.” said the hostess.
Soon a waitress lead Andrew to a table near the back of the shop. Gregor Duncan sat their wearing daywear. Looking a much more rumpled than he’d been when Andrew lost saw the former-Dean.
“No offense sir, but it looks like you’ve had a rough couple of days.” said Andrew.
“Hmph, offense much taken, but sit down anyway...I take it Ms. Luce won’t be joining us?” said Gregor.
“I’m afraid not. She has a few things with the family business to iron out.” said Andrew. Shaking his head and settling in one of the cafe’s overly tall chairs and finding that it was more comfortable than it should have been. Making Andrew wonder if his current body wasn’t getting a little too tall.
“Nh...I expected as much.” grunted the former-Dean. Nodding towards a television screen that played mutely in the background.
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Andrew turned around and saw his wife up on the screen. Dressed in a sharp cobalt-blue dress-suit, her snow-white hair done up in a neat low-twisted chignon.
The footage was from a press conference she was having elsewhere in the Three-Crow system. Sophia and her “seniors” within the Luce family were currently busy opening factories and office buildings. Making statements with various figures in the media, be they news outlets or talk shows. Working to take control of the narrative on the Luce clan and Housecarl Industries.
Sophia had been quite busy over the two months that had passed since their landing on Nurari. Her task was to execute the part of their plan that would be seen by the world, while Andrew operated in the shadows. Reading the collective unconsciousness for the galaxy as a whole and removing nuisances that were in their path. Whether that meant going out and directly “changing a few minds”, manipulating the t-data for the empire, or just straight up making folks disappear.
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It was honestly, more than a little tiring, but it was also, strangely enough, one of those jobs that took longer to plan than to actually do. Like moving and spring cleaning.
Andrew had imagined that changing the narrative their rivals within the empire and the empire itself would try to spin would have been harder, but then Sophia came up with the idea to simply blow up the entire conversation.
Thus even before they’d landed, a simplified version of the Selkie-system was sent over to various academic groups within the galaxy and the empire’s royal library. Ditto for their improve engine designs, warp systems and a few other works that Housecarl Industries would eventually get around to marketing.
She’d compiled it all together in a file that she’d named the Luce Masterwork volume seven. That was Andrew’s idea.
They delivered the information in a way that both agreed with the narrative that they were trying to sell. The narrative where the Luce’s were an old, but little spoken of, family that up until now had just been a humble researcher-trader family that had been quietly operating in the shadows. The labeling on the data also hinted that there were more things that the formerly low-key family could offer the empire and the galaxy as a whole.
While their detractors were left scrambling, Housecarl Industries reached out to the imperial military with the same designs and research data, but just slightly ahead. With the designs and notes in that delivery falling more in line with what they’d displayed during their escape from Harlow.
Andrew imagined if the imperial government wasn’t completely lead by idiots, this would be enough for the clan to A) get their foot in the door for some rich government contracts, and B)make major strides in gaining either nobility or honored status within the imperial hierarchy. Which was what they needed if they wanted to be left alone to live in peace now that the Oddvar-luce clan were showing off a little of what they were truly made of.
Assuming the people in charge had their heads on straight the empire now knew three things about the little family.
First, they knew that the family did indeed have knowledge that could make them either a world-class treasure or a deadly poison depending on how the empire played things.
Second, they knew that the clan didn’t particularly care about money since they had barely bothered talking about terms when it comes to releasing a sizable portion of what they knew.
Third, they knew Oddvar-Luce clan wasn’t intending to be anyone’s pawn because rather than heeding any of the overtures made by the royals, the nobles, and the Novem government as a whole, they’d chosen to base themselves out in Graysville.
The family had quickly entrenched itself in the quietly infamous neutral intersect that lay in the gap of the territories of all three galactic powers. A signal that at the first sign of trouble the clan would merrily change the flags that flew above their factories if push came to shove.
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Andrew pulled his attention from the screen and trained his focus on Gregor Duncan. The former-Dean took a sip of the tea on the table and then after a moment’s hesitation. He reached into his coat and poured a little something else into the mixture to make the drink stronger.
“So, what can I do for you, sir?” said Andrew.
The former-dean took a sip of his tea and grimaced as the alcohol hit him. Then he placed the cup back on the saucer and sighed, the sigh seeming to age the man by ten years.
“Some time ago, before I and the rest of Blackvale left for Hundred-Night...your family made some overtures offering aid if we should find ourselves needing. At the time I’d doubted such an occasion would occur but here we are…” said Gregor.
“Here we are…” echoed Andrew.
“I’m taking it, that things in Hundred-Night aren’t going well?”
“You should know...You’re a student there as well, but then again, maybe you don’t. I imagine you might have enjoyed a different treatment than that of your former classmates.”
“Ah...Yeah, they’ve been pretty accommodating.” said Andrew. Agreeing with Gregor’s assessment because the academy had been indeed quite accommodating to his and Sophia’s needs. Despite the fact that neither of them had yet to set foot within the campus after the first couple of days when they were settling the issue of enrollment.
“Unfortunately, they haven’t been quite so kind to your fellow classmates...or even many of the teachers.”
“Nh…” said Andrew.
He understood the situation. The picture becoming clearer as Andrew drew in the t-data for the former-Dean, and Hundred-Night academy. The picture he was seeing fell in line with certain predictions he and Sophia had made before landing here.
Hundred-Night Academy was one of the oldest such institutions within the empire and as often the case for Academy’s of such an age, it possessed a hidden face, the secretive but elite Hundred-Night Sect.
The school fed the sect, the sect backed the school, and the empire tried to avoid the headache that would come from tangling with a rank 19 organization. Allowing the group to operate unfettered in Graysville in return for the aid of a few of its elites during its military operations.
Naturally, a group like the Hundred-Night Sect had no lack of members and applicants. Which meant the school that served as the sect’s public face would have no interest in thirty or so thousand youths who’d sailed in from a shattered world.
The sole reason they were hosting the Blackvale students was due to their obligation as Blackvale’s parent-school and beyond that, they held no obligation or fond feelings for the sudden surplus of enrollees and extraneous staff.
Thus they did what any large amoral organization would do. They offered the bare minimum and tried to encourage their new-burden to go elsewhere. After all, this wasn’t a part of the galaxy where one absolutely had to stay in an Academy till graduation. Dropping out and working was also a completely valid option.
“They’re not even offering most of us proper dorms. Most of Blackvale is either bunking with servants, sleeping in storage areas, or paying our own way off-campus.” said Gregor. Sounding bitter.
Andrew frowned, feeling a pang of pity. It sounded like the school wasn’t trying very hard to hide how it little it cared about the people from Blackvale.
“Would it be fair to assume you guys haven’t been receiving any training allotments?” said Andrew.
The training the average Academy student did required a number of supplements, medicines, and other resources.
The academies were supposed to provide these things and the cost was subsidized by the government. While better-off students generally eschewed such things for their families’ own resources receiving those resources was a fairly huge deal for commoners and people like Andrew’s former-self who couldn’t count on the people at home to supply what they needed.
Gregor took another sip of tea and raised his brow at the younger man.
“Young man...You know how educators are duty-bound to say that there’s no such thing as a stupid question?”
Andrew cleared his throat.
“Fair enough...No need to get snappish. You’re coming to us for help remember.”
The former-dean moaned and nodded, rubbing temples that had far more gray in them than had been present two months ago.
“How could I forget…?”
Andrew couldn’t help feeling bad for the older man. On the one hand, Gregor should have known what to expect. On the other hand, ordinarily, Gregor Duncan should have never been in this position. He’d just been one of the school’s senior Admins. One of the handful of Blackvale academy senior staff that happened to survive.
If Blackvale’s protectors and ancestral-backers had not been lost during the attack on their academy they would have had more leverage in dealing with the larger academy. If the original Dean had survived he’d have had a number of secrets in his back pocket and social currency to get Hundred-Night to foot the bill for allowing Blackvale to go elsewhere and rebuild.
“If I’m reading the situation right, basically, besides myself, Sophia, and a few other of the students, Hundred-Night Academy is treating the students of Blackvale like probationary students. No accommodations, no resources, little attention or care when it comes to the classes that are made available.”
“An astute guess…” said Gregor.
“I imagine things are similar rough for you staff members…”
“More or less...A few of us are integrating well enough, but a number of us have been downgraded to assistants and general staff. It’s a blow to our egos and wallets perhaps, but for most of the teachers, its nothing too unbearable. At least they’re providing work and proper shelter so that we can actually think about our options. I’m more concerned about the students.”
Andrew nodded. Noting the older man’s sincerity and finding his respect for the older man had gone up a few notches. Whether Gregor had been unsuited for the job or not, it looked like the former-Dean truly cared about his wards. Truly concerned about the students who’d followed him because they either had nowhere else to go after losing everything, or because they didn’t wish to become a burden on their families after the fall of Harlow.
Otherwise, there was no reason for Dean Duncan to be here seeking Andrew’s assistance. As the former-dean of one of Hundred-Night’s branches, Gregor’s position would have been a privileged one regardless of whatever other decisions the sect made concerning Blackvale’s students and staff.
“Mhm...I think I can help.”
“...You can?”
“I can...Or rather, Oddvar-Luce and Housecarl Industries, can. Follow me, please.” said Andrew. Standing and using his sprite to pay the exorbitant bill that he and the former-Dean had racked up during their short time in the cafe.