Ebusuku’s PoV - Outlands
The sheet draped over Farhad spots where it clings to his sweat coated skin, and I move to see whatever sight has him captivated beyond the window. Stepping over my discarded armour, still shaped for my larger form, I press my body against him. My chin barely brushes his shoulder with my human-shaped form. Pressing against the vigorous lines of his lean body has me sighing before the sight through the window claims my attention.
There was no sign of any destruction, despite the pulse of power that had tossed me from the bed mid-orgasm. Along the ridgeline, crystalline plinth-like towers—hundreds of metres tall—beckoned towards the sky stretching out further than I can see from our home’s vantage nestled amid the valley. Near us, the simple buildings of stone and wood are being transformed by the energy that still dances in the air. Wherever the blue and golden glow brushes, the building’s lines blur into graceful arcs and alien curves that twist into additional dimensions in True Sight. Regardless of their construction, they become formed of opaque crystals that afforded privacy from those within even as it changes them into something fitting tales of the Heavens.
“Amdirlain was concerned that the energy might have not assisted the Domain,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around Farhad as I continue to take in the changes presenting themselves.
“That blue energy feels almost like it should be Ki, but it’s certainly not.”
Farhad’s declaration is as fierce as always, and I can’t help but dig at him playfully. “Maybe it’s what passes for Ki where Amdirlain is concerned. It’s a spiritual life energy that emerges from her Soul.”
The reluctant nod I get is surprising coming so soon. Then again, it’s always a pleasant surprise when my stubborn husband changes his mind so quickly—and here I wasn’t even intending to have fun arguing about it. “I take it you’ll need to tend to this?”
“I had been planning to set others to survey the changes, but this looks like I’ll need to see some of it for myself.”
“Understandable. What is the purpose of those towers? It doesn’t appear as if anyone could stand atop them with the massive flowers growing there now.”
Farhad’s statement draws my attention back to them. The smooth towers now show a strange bloom of growth, and knowledge of their purpose presses into my mind in an instant.
“I need to talk to some of our guests and tell them to move away.”
Stepping away, my wings brush the ceiling with the return of my full height. Snatching discarded items from the floor, I pull clothing and armour on as fast as I can.
“What’s wrong?” asks Farhad, unruffled by my concern.
“Those might look like crystal flowers, but it seems Amdirlain is no longer so trusting. They’re absorbing energy directly, beyond what the transformed buildings are feeding them. When they’ve finished growing, anyone not allied to her, or an acknowledged guest of the Domain, is going to get a warm welcome. They’ll get warning shots first, but that will quickly change to killing.”
Setting the sheet aside, Farhad cleans up at a more relaxed pace. “If you know, won’t the others know as well?”
Messages whisper in my ear from Mirage and many others, all surprised as I by the changes and the new towers.
“Yes, they know, but some Solars will probably take offence if it is a lowly Archon, or lesser Angel warning them, rather than myself.”
As soon I secure the last piece, Teleport places me where the closest guests’ campsite had been and there is only gear scattered in disarray. The host that had camped here at the valley’s mouth had been pushed out far ahead of me down among the trees. A second Teleport puts me beside a Solar bearing Kupala’s Sun-and-stream symbol on his armour.
“An exciting change, it seems,” the Solar offers, apparently unflustered by the displacement caused by the Domain’s change.
“Amdirlain had a reserve of energy she provided to the Domain, it had quite the effect. Your groups will need to move further out. We’ve defensive towers growing now to keep any allies near the Domain’s borders safe. Since none of the Slavic Deities have formally recognised Amdirlain as an ally…”
“They’ll assume we’re a risk to those that have.” he finishes for me with a nod of understanding. “Does this mean your Lady is back?”
“No, she’s still away. She unexpectedly provided the reserve from a distance.”
“I’ll pass the word along. How far out do we need to move?”
“Four or five kilometres at least, they’ll be firing energy that will maul a Celestial as readily as a Demon.”
My advice gets him glancing at the towers again for reassurance that they’re still growing. The shimmering energy around them still forming the strange flowers that term themselves ‘Shock Cannons’, their stems braiding Order and Destruction Mana from the energy they’ve been absorbing.
“We might take our camps out ten to avoid any mistakes. If you could have someone bring our remaining equipment to us.”
“Of course, if you head directly towards the Spire from here, I’ll have it brought to you.”
Kupala’s Solar just nods and starts confused Celestials moving, his Message spells flitting away even while he’s yelling orders.
Turning back towards the Domain the closest fort’s transformation stops me in my tracks. The solid structure the Dwarves had built changed in moments, melding and blurring lines making the building look as if the crystal had grown from the earth. A breeze racing past me causes banners nearby to flutter, and a soft melodic hum rises from the structure.
Teleporting to the other encampments reveals similar scenes among forces of the Persian and Roman pantheons. Fortunately, they’re as forgiving as Kupala’s Solar, but then since they decided we’re neutral territory, it’s lucky for them they keep the peace. As I shoo the last away, Mars’ Solar—Aloysius—heads in my directory through the nearly empty Roman encampment. His forces and the Norse are still in place.
“Ebusuku, why do I feel something sneaky is going on with your Lady?” asks Aloysius.
“Sneaky?”
“I’ve been overhead. This isn’t a Domain of a little pseudo-Power anymore. We ignored the strange Petitioners as we all know other races live in our world, but that’s not it, is it?”
Snorting I wave him off. “You’re not allowed to speak about all those accords in place, but you expect me to tip Amdirlain’s hand?”
“The Commander said if she’s not abiding by the accords, then best you have her faithful ready to run at a moment’s notice. Things are getting worse, and she’d be the first the Greek bastards will want to crush if this escalates into a Gods’ War again. Last time, those involved had their home Plane aligned to the Material Plane, and only those servants already present on the world could enter the conflict’s arena.”
I nod at the information matching what Eleftherios and other sources had shared, both for its confirmation, and perhaps as a sign of Mars’ trustworthiness. “I won’t comment on what preparations we have made, but there is much going on at various locations.”
“We know your Lady is distracted on other matters. Best to keep a sharp eye out for her. Times like these are when she’s most likely to get stabbed in the back. At least two that she counts as allies are good at twisting out of oaths when it suits them and harming those that aided them. The one-eyed Oath-breaker isn’t likely to have her best interests in mind.”
“Why did Mars declare her an ally?” I ask, and explain when I see him start in surprise. “Amdirlain’s never learnt the why.”
Aloysius’ calm flickers for a brief, distracted moment that I recognise from my own experiences with Amdirlain’s contact via Oath Link. “The Commander is fond of those that look after fellow warriors without making a fuss or expecting a reward. It makes him especially annoyed that after her deeds with the Gnarls, her people got the suspicious treatment that they did.”
“She’ll always prefer those that are more than just empty promises or provide scorpions as gifts. Did you hear me warning the others?” I ask, gesturing to a group of Vulcan’s Celestials already disappearing among the trees.
“Yes, and I can sense the strange Order and Destruction Mana twisted together in those blossoms, so I understand their danger. We’ve passed messages onto those patrols monitoring the Olympians’ servants. Those that can’t enter your Lady’s Domain now know where the camps will be set up.”
The moment he teleports away, I take to the air. Looking over the still transforming building, and the Petitioners gazing about in wonder. Buildings have grown in empty clearings, even while various trees loom far larger, providing cover for those disinclined to dwell indoors. The towers’ lines disappear into the distance stretch for scores of kilometres along the valley’s ridgeline. The only exception to their regular spacing near the crafting hall where they’re set a few hundred metres deeper into the woods; perhaps marking the extent of the hall’s reach into the cliff-face.
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Sending out messages, I survey the changes in the area I assigned myself even as more buildings transform or grow from the earth.
* * *
Teleport puts me where I’d expected, but with the changes, it’s almost surprising. The glade and its table so changed from the day before. At the cardinal points, massive trees now rise far overhead, setting the glade in a dappled shadow. Scores of Catfolk Petitioners that the Norse had confused for Basteti when they arrived in the Domain relax in the upper branches that wouldn’t have supported one previously.
Instead of the rough wood table and benches that we’d set out in the sun, they’re now formed of a dark crystal. Though the legs are more gracefully formed, at least these benches haven’t gained backs. Sage, Mirage, and Echo appear within moments of my Message. Echo shoots Sage an amused look that goes unnoticed with his attention still fixed on a scroll he’s busily writing on as he sits. His distracted state makes me wonder if he’s even noticed the change in the table.
“The sunlight is dimmer here today,” grumbles Sages.
Echo just shakes his head, giving me a smirk, as if he’d read my mind. “No, there are just trees blocking it. Have you looked about?”
The question has Sage glance up from his scroll and at the canopy above us, his mouth soundlessly shaping ‘oh!’ before he blinks and continues. “That explains it.”
“Furthest point of the Domain?”
“Two hundred and seventy-two kilometres from the first mead hall—it now runs the entire valley length. It broadens out approaching the mid-point to reach across the valleys on either side before it narrows again.” Mirage answers without hesitation, and Sage just scribbles more notes.
“We’ve got more space combined than all the Mind Flayer cities that Sidero has wiped out so far,” offers Echo.
“That wasn’t in the reports of Archon training,” objects Sage, reaching for another scroll and Echo just waves him to stillness.
“She’s letting us join in the Thri-kreen breeding sites but keeping the cities to herself and Klipyl until after she’s done with them. I’d almost swear it’s for the amount of loot she pulls from them, but it’s likely the experience. She’s getting more focused about gaining levels since Isa got free,” Echo explains and set down embossed scrolls made from aluminium sheets before Sage. “Sorry for the distraction. I also found buildings rising from the Domain’s ground, almost-copies of the communities that Malnar designed but all made from the crystal.”
The observation makes me smile in recollection at the quick conversation I’d had with her during my scouting. “Malnar had words to say about the changes to the buildings: ‘At least they didn’t change into fucking flower kissed fucking trees’. Personally, I think she’s flattered that the Domain’s transformation didn’t alter the interior layout of any building we checked.”
“They’re all still the same inside?” asks Sage, his scratching pencil stopping for a moment as he looks up at me.
“Haven’t you run out of those by now? Exactly how many of those did she make?” I ask, disturbed by the thought of all the health she’d been casually using to make items while hiding her mental anguish.
“I’ve used those up, but a low-level Fabricate Spell does wonders for simple objects like these,” explains Sage, before tapping the scroll. “Now the buildings?”
“No one has reported any change inside buildings. Though I don’t know if that is because occupants were inside them when they changed, or because the Domain approves of them,” states Echo.
I nod in agreement before offering an observation of my own. “It copied a fort that Malnar had designed perfectly, with only minor tweaks because of the terrain. She’s busily checking it from the storerooms to the ramparts at present, but all the areas I looked over appeared identical.”
“What is this crystal?” asks Mirage, hitting the table’s edge hard enough that it blunts the dagger she uses.
“True Song crystal, the stuff of legends; it's tougher than Laen. If anyone knowledgeable had any doubts that Amdirlain’s Soul was originally an Anar, this should put those to rest. Only they and the Lómë could create anything constructed of it. Anything else important of note about the Domain’s change?”
Sage glances up again from his scroll and motions with his pencil. “The towers took a detour and grew out around the Giant’s settlements, but they seem aware they’re to be protected even if they’re not part of the Domain. There is almost a sentience within them.”
“I had the same impression,” Mirages readily agrees, repairing her dagger with a quick Spell before slipping it away.
“No one reported damage or injuries despite the power making the ground briefly flex,” offers Sage.
“Give the Domain a chance to settle and then assign teams to map the pathways. I’d like an account of how much accommodation and facilities we have now,” I instruct.
“Are we going to retrieve more of the older Souls waiting in Judgement?” Echo asks.
“Eventually, but we’ve gone from overcrowded to having space again. Let’s work out how many we can accommodate first, and plan around this being the last growth we’ll see for a time.”
“Not that all of them need buildings, the Catfolk—among others—seem content with being up within the trees. Though, why are there so many Catfolk here already?” enquires Echo, and when Sage hesitates to reply, continues. “I thought we’d stopped bringing in old Souls before Erwarth freed any and returned them to their world.”
“They’re newly deceased. While some of the Pantheon there were accepting of Amdirlain’s faith joining their number, a few of their faithful objected. One sect has killed all the followers they’ve found—the few left are now in hiding. I’ve got an account from one victim. We’re currently planning how to get the survivors help.”
“The Erakkö have been so welcoming I would never have-”
Echo pauses with a lost child-like gaze, no matter how much taller he is now, or the years he spent in the maze.
His pained expression has Sage tucking away the scroll, and speaking reassuringly—the protective eldest reacting to his uncertainty. “Not all worlds are as welcome as Letveri, and some have established factions that are quite protective of their interests. The most recent I spoke to said it’s making the rest more determined to continue worshipping Amdirlain.”
“Give me the name of their world. I’ll see if I can get details to a natural Gate from someone in The Exchange,” I say, and Sage doesn’t hesitate to jot the name down for me.
“But we can’t get through without a Priest strong enough to summon us, and they’re all still so new,” Mirage protests.
My hard smile stops her in confusion. “That’s where mortal mercenaries come into play. I’ll hire some from races that are close enough to the locals and send them to help. I know several worlds that have Catfolk species similar in appearance, though the spotted fur common among the Petitioners that have arrived is interesting. Anything else?”
At their silence, I nod and stand.
“I’ll head to The Exchange now.”
“Not going to give Farhad a kiss good-bye first? I’m sure you two were interrupted,” teases Mirage.
“We were but I’ll make it up to him.”
Mirage just tilts her head at me and smiles. “Isn’t that his job?”
* * *
Despite all the changes I’ve seen come and go the essence of the busy streets and sky of The Exchange hasn’t changed since I first found my way here. Walking under an arch of imprisoned lawbreakers floating across the streets, the form of a Kyton in stasis catches my gaze. Her own chains pierced through her body in a way that avoided her destruction before the city wards encapsulated her. Aware as she’ll be, no doubt the pain will be twisted into orgasms by her perverted nature unless the hidden ruler has some way to make her feel suffering instead.
The mercenary’s hiring hall has an unchanged feel, even though nearly everything within it is always changing. The crowded hall stretches out as far as the eye can see, and the crowds packing the place represent both mercenaries and patrons alike. Here and there I recognise company banners that have had representatives here longer than I’ve existed, but something will cause most groups for hire to disappear within a century.
Bipedal, quadrupedal and many floating beings move about, their weaponry ranging from barely enchanted shields and swords to multi-barrel things whose mass alone would kill most beings. Elven figures glide through the crowd that is parting quickly before them, bearing more than a touch of the Feywilds for all they display Titania’s emblem. Their fine features twisted slightly off-true, more feral monster than the elegant beings Amdirlain likely expects of Elves.
The circlets of Mithril they wear barely keep unkempt earthen toned hair in check. Their protections, greater than an enchanted full helm could provide, set the tone for the rest of their armour. The sets are woven in a strange style of gleaming Mithril and black Adamantine, with each piece containing enough power to make them a human Artificer’s crowning work. When one snarls at a lizard man who doesn’t make way fast enough, I glimpse pointed teeth more fitting for a great cat or Devil. But for all their attitude they step aside when I don’t give way before them, my attention on a winged figure waiting before a stall.
Ivory white skin, tresses of blackest night, with wings of deep blood red on display, but a single claw at the wing’s joint. Clad only in unwholesome lusts, and desires best left unmentioned, every flex of her muscles is clear to see through the miasma her degenerating presence exudes. The mercenaries between us break and run, not wanting to risk being caught in any exchange of power. Regardless of who ended up punished, they’d still be destroyed. As she turns towards me, familiar black lips that drink in the light part in a smile, to reveal perfect white teeth whose sharpness slices the distorted light. But it’s a delight that doesn’t shift the malevolence in the merciless pits others might call eyes.
“Mother, this is unexpected,” I say, keeping my tone flat and drier than an Efreet’s skin.
“Daughter, you’ve not responded to any Message I sent you. When my servants said they foresaw your presence here, I came myself.”
“I no longer have any interest in whatever business you believe we might have,” I state, wondering if the servants will survive her return. There are a few left among them that know me well enough to provide such insights even without a name to guide them.
“I merely wish to offer my congratulations and purchase your share of our business dealing here.”
Keeping my reactions in check is simple enough, but her gaze presses into me, evoking memories of centuries in her ‘care’. “I gave them away centuries ago when I told you I wanted nothing further to do with you.”
“Who did you give them to?” hisses mother, the smile disappearing faster than mead before a thirsty Dwarf.
“The Exchange, they gave me a building and resident status in return.”
“You’d best get them back then. I know your names.”
“No, you don’t. My True Name changed during my promotion and even Ebusuku isn’t my use name anymore. It’s just simply what those familiar with me call me in conversation,” I say, and smile at her lips twisting in frustration. “Did you really think I’d leave such a vulnerability for you to exploit? I choose my path, and it will never align with whatever you want now.”
The look of disbelief she fixed me with is such a fine repayment for this unpleasant encounter. “Then why can I still send a Message to it?”
Considering the threats the Small Earth Elemental that Sidero locked the name onto for me has likely been receiving I almost feel sorry for it. I’m glad the continuing frustrated search for Amdirlain’s attempted summoner had prompted me to take precautions of my own.
“Summon them and find out. You might have been entertaining them, with whatever threats or demands you’ve been sending.”
“Naamah will be furious with you,” growls mother, but I can’t help but smile at the emptiness of that threat.
“Thanks for the confirmation, that you two still aren’t speaking. I invoked her name swearing my Oath of service and received no objections.”
Turning away I head down a different aisle in the hiring hall and rethink the plan of hiring any groups with her lurking about. Through the crowd and stalls, I can feel her furious gaze resting on me when I’m a hundred metres or more away and I head towards an exit. It might be best to stop any dealing with The Exchange for a thousand years. I’ll have to see if Jantar can gain knowledge of the trouble spot. Perhaps if there are Dwarves worshipping Moradin there, I can pay them to help.