Nasir and Iandi were not in their assigned room for very long. Their time was a flurry - on Iandi’s part – of putting down bags, unpacking clothes and supplies, and checking over a few smuggled weapons. Then, Iandi, with a bright smile on his face, stepped into the other room.
“Exploring!” he said, “Adventure!”
Joseph smirked at the large man. He was sitting at the foot of his bed, listening to Professor Morandus ask a line-up of questions to Dodeca.
“Tell me, how long has this plane existed?” he asked.
“I don't know,” Dodeca shrugged, “A while.”
Are there any ruins on this plane? Metahuman or otherwise?”
Dodeca grimaced. Then shook her head.
“As far as I'm aware, no,” she said, “I've asked my old man about it, nothing.”
“What about from where you're from? What kingdom were you part of?”
“We aren't part of any kingdom,” Dodeca said, “The Dorucanthos Family looks towards the future, not the past.”
“But you were part of a kingdom, at some point. Was this plane a part of Epochia?”
“I don't know.”
“What about-”
“Evancar, that's enough,” Aldreia said, “You're going to make her want to hurt you.”
She winked at the metahuman. Dodeca scoffed.
“Adventure!” Iandi said.
“Think it's time we went out exploring,” Nasir said.
“Yeah,” Joseph said, “I think that's probably for the best.”
He gave Dodeca a sympathetic look. Dodeca nodded, only a bit exasperated, before she raised her voice.
“Right, you lot,” she said, “You're going to follow me throughout this little... tour,”
(she said this with some disgust.)
“If you'll just come with me, let's be off.”
She moved off. Iandi bounded after her, laughing, Nasir only a step behind. Evancar got up next, moving off to join her. Joseph stretched, and rose from his seat. As he started to leave, he noted that Aldreia was still lying in her bed.
“You coming?” he asked.
“Oh, gods, no,” she said, “I can't stand guided tours. I'm going to look to see if these people have a bar.”
Joseph's brow furrowed.
“You know you're supposed to look after Evancar, right?”
“Please, Joe,” Aldreia said, lounging, “Nasir'll make sure he doesn't run off. And that Dodeca woman's got her eye on him. She hasn't relaxed at all since we got here.”
She batted her eyes.
“A shame. I bet she's a joy when she's had a few drinks.”
Joseph rolled his eyes.
“Right. Whatever,” he said, and he left to catch up with the others.
***
Luminary and Becenti sat down at a table by the window. Far below, the citizens of New Ludaya were as multicolored dots on the landscape. Occasionally he would see blasts of power rupture the sky, metahuman abilities taming the land, or cutting down trees, or erecting buildings, or harvesting crops. A cloud hung specifically over one of the fields like a specter, and the rain that sheeted down over it had a pinkish hue.
Luminary flicked a finger, and Becenti squinted his eyes as a hand formed out of light appeared, moving over to a small kitchen cabinet. It pulled out a few cups, then drifted back to her, setting them out before the two of them. She poured out tea from a pitcher for the both of them. Becenti sipped.
“Interesting flavor,” Becenti said.
“Do you... not like it?” Luminary said, and her voice was careful.
“Interesting, not bad,” Becenti said, a bit hastily, and he sipped again, “...Yes, I could get used to it. It's an acquired taste.”
“It's a blend taken from mixing black tea with milk, along with a plant unique to this plane,” Luminary said, “I've been wanting to give it a name, but nothing's come to mind yet.”
She broke into a warm smile.
“How exciting, isn't it, Shimmer? That we get to name things again.”
Becenti was quiet. He took another sip. The tea was bitter, the aftertaste having a hint of heat. He looked down at it for a few moments.
“Luminary,” he said, “I... I don't use Shimmer as my name anymore.”
“O-Oh?” Luminary said, “Did you choose a new name? Did your powers evolve?”
“Nothing of the sort,” Becenti said, “I just, I... I'm going by my old name now. Myron Becenti.”
For a moment, Luminary stared at him. Her mouth was flickering downwards in an almost-disappointed frown.
Then, she controlled herself. Leaned in, her hands resting beneath her chin, breaking into a smile.
(One that was not completely genuine.)
“Back to using your 'secret identity,' eh, superhero?” she teased.
“Something like that,” Becenti said, refusing the bait, “You can call me Myron. You're close enough to me for that.”
“Well, very well, then, Myron,” Luminary said, “I'll let the others know.”
“Others?”
“Why, I've told everyone here about you,” Luminary said, and her finger swirled on the table, “Those who care to listen, anyway. About our adventures. Our time in the war. I... I had no idea you were still alive.”
“I thought you died,” Becenti said, “I thought... I thought everyone did.”
“From Old Ludaya.”
Becenti nodded.
She shook her head.
“Uzimi the Cloak hid me away. She went along with the other metahumans that Kristandi managed to smuggle off of the plane.”
“I see,” Becenti said, “Uzimi, is she here?”
Luminary gave a soft shake of the head.
“No, Myron,” she said, “I'm afraid Uzimi passed away soon after that. She got caught by a Federation patrol on Galapos III.”
Becenti nodded. Swallowed.
“I see,” he said.
The two of them were quiet.
Luminary raised up her cup.
“To dreaming again,” she said.
Becenti, frowning, clinked his own cup with hers. Took another sip.
“And how did you survive?” Luminary said, “You joined a guild, didn't you?”
“I did,” Becenti said, “I... I cut a deal with Kristandi and Valm. The same that let so many of us leave Old Ludaya.”
“You... talked with Valm?”
Becenti was quiet.
“...Yes, Luminary,” he said, “I've been... On occasion, he has permitted me to oversee certain metahuman projects in the multiverse.”
Luminary was giving him a disapproving look.
“It's not every day, of course,” Becenti said, “But it's better than having a Federation presence there. Did you hear about Death Valley, on Prime?”
“We had a few agents there,” Luminary said.
“Then you know that I was there, as was one of my guildmates,” Becenti said, “We were there-”
“-On behalf of the Federation?” her words, they were careful. Not accusing, but still tense.
“On behalf of myself,” Becenti said, “But the deal I made with Valm allowed me to ensure that the Federation wasn't involved.”
His old friend was quiet for a long time. She took a sip of her tea. Looked out the window.
“...They killed so many of us, Myron,” she said.
“I know,” Becenti whispered, his voice tight, “I... I didn't have a choice. There was just the glassing, and the screams, and I knew that I had to do something. And...”
He was tearing up. His ears were starting to ring with hard memories. Becenti put his hands on the table, controlling himself. Luminary watched his near breakdown, watched as her friend stitched himself back up into Myron Becenti, and when he looked at her again his face was as stone.
“I'm sorry, Luminary,” he said.
“...I believe you,” Luminary said, careful, “You did what you had to do.”
***
Dodeca led them out of Mt. Redress, past all of the workers and their tunnels, and out into the sunlight. They went down a mountain path towards the base of the mountain, passing by a few metahumans who were carrying in building supplies, or barrels, or crates of produce.
“What's this about?” Evancar said, pointing at a rhino-headed man pushing a wheelbarrow filled with grain.
“We store much of our food in the mountain itself,” Dodeca said, “Although there are a few granaries in the farther communes, and discussions about building more. But as of right now, much of the nation's infrastructure is based on the mountain.”
They went down to the mountain's base. A few metahumans wearing armor flanked the path leading to the top. Dodeca nodded at them.
“We're mostly divided into three classes,” Dodeca said, “The Workers who help build and maintain the nation. The Warriors are those of us with metahuman abilities deemed fit for combat.”
“To protect yourselves!” Evancar said.
“Yes,” Dodeca said, and she gave a scowl, “And then there is the ruling body. The Council and their retainers.”
“Like Luminary.”
“And my father,” Dodeca said, “Who is approaching now.”
Indeed, a small retinue of metahumans was coming up towards the mountain. An older man was at their head, dressed in a nice blue pinstripe suit, his long yellow hair tied up in a series of knots, his short beard scored with a few stripes of gray. He broke out into a smile at the sight of Dodeca.
“Ah, my daughter,” he said, and he strode forward ahead of his retinue, embracing her. Dodeca frowned, patting her father on the head, for she was far taller than him.
“Father,” she said, and then to one of the people in his entourage, “Snapdragon.”
Snapdragon gave a curt nod. They were almost Dodeca's height, the top half of their face veiled by a scaled wood mask.
“Guiding some tourists, eh?” the older metahuman looked at Dodeca's group, “Always good to see some new faces.”
He extended out a hand.
“Nomatrius Dorucanthos, Head of the Dorucanthos Family, Seat of Commerce on the Council.”
“P-Professor Evancar Morandus, guild archaeologist,” Evancar shook the hand with a bit of a weak grip.
“An archaeologist?” Nomatrius said, “Well, not much of that here. This is a pristine plane.”
He smiled.
“But! Who knows. A couple thousand years, and your descendants will be sifting through here. Unless you're one of those long-lived folks.”
“Ah, no. Just a human. Baseline, human,” Evancar said.
“Hmm,” Nomatrius said. He gave a nod at that.
“Father,” Dodeca said, “We were just leaving.”
“And you have the council session,” Snapdragon said.
“Yes. Yes,” Nomatrius nodded, re-centering himself, “Well, I'd love to stop and chat. But, duty calls. That's the problem with nation-building: You don't have free time.”
He gave Evancar a conspiratorial wink, saluted the others, and then headed off.
“Good seeing you, Dodeca,” Snapdragon said. They smiled.
Dodeca gave them a hard glare in answer. Snapdragon returned to frowning, and left with the rest of the entourage.
Joseph sidled up to Dodeca.
“Sibling?” he asked.
“Oldest of us,” Dodeca growled.
“Ruling class?”
“Yes.”
“And what are you?” Joseph prodded.
“I'm part of it as well, but I don't exactly have the charisma for it,” she said, “I'd rather be a Warrior.”
“And why aren't you?” Joseph asked.
She turned, glared at him. Brought up a hand, revealing a second thumb next to the pinkie.
“This is my metahuman gift,” she said, “Snapdragon can turn themself into a half-Dragon, and I have another thumb. You do the math.”
She shouldered past him.
“Let's go, people!” she said, “Keep walking!”
“Yay!” Iandi roared, and he trudged along after her.
Nasir looked at Joseph.
“Classes, eh?” he said, “A caste system?”
“Yeah,” Joseph said, shaking his head, “That's...”
He didn't voice his concern. But his brow was furrowed. This would be a better talk with Becenti.
“Aye,” Nasir said, “Better to just observe for now.”
They kept walking.
***
“Why, I think I can see them,” Luminary said.
She had taken out a spyglass, pointing it down towards the base of the mountain below.
“Joseph and the rest?” Becenti said.
“Yes. I believe so, anyways. Here,” Luminary handed Becenti the spyglass. He looked down below. Indeed, there was his guild. Joseph, Nasir, Iandi, and Evancar.
“But no Aldreia,” Becenti muttered, “I do hope she hasn't taken to finding a bar.”
“We've got a few down there,” Luminary said, chuckling, “We could go to one, if you want. Like old times.”
“I don't drink anymore,” Becenti said, his voice curt.
“Oh,” Luminary said, “I... Apologies.”
He shook his head.
“It's fine.”
He looked out the window, lost in thought.
“The years after the war's end were hard,” he said, at length, “I... Alcohol was an easy escape. A bit too easy. I stopped when I joined the Amber Foundation. Wakeling helped me recover.”
“Ah, yes, your guild.”
“Yes.”
“Are they good to you?” Luminary asked.
Becenti nodded. And he smiled.
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“They mean the world to me, Luminary,” he said, “I... you'd love them.”
“Are there any metahumans in their number?”
“There's Joseph,” Becenti said, “He's got an awakened soul. It's been made physical. Takes the form of a humanoid eagle made of electricity. He's angry a lot.”
“I can't blame him,” Luminary said.
“But he's a good kid,” Becenti said, “He's here, you know. You should meet him.”
“I should,” Luminary said.
“Nasir and Iandi are here, too,” Becenti said, “Nasir's from Last Stand-”
Luminary winced.
“-Iandi's from Zult.”
“A Mark Eta?” Luminary said.
“Yes,” Becenti said, “They wrote him off as a failure after their experiments changed his mental state. Nasir found him a bit later. They've been together ever since.”
“Mmm,” Luminary said, “And what about Aldreia?”
“A former priestess to Pelliad,” Becenti said, “She was cast out of her order for... fraternizing with the other priestesses, we'll say.”
“A guild of the rejects, Myron,” Luminary said, laughing.
“Isn't that what all guilds are?” Becenti said, chuckling.
“And what about this... Evancar Morandus?”
“He's an archaeologist,” Becenti said, his voice suddenly flat.
“Ah,” Luminary said, “One of those archaeologists, hmm?”
“He... can be,” Becenti said, “When he forgets himself.”
“Well, I'm afraid to say he won't find anything here,” Luminary said. She gestured out the window, “This is a virgin plane, Myron. Newborn and ready for settling.”
***
They went through the forest. And it was there that Joseph saw him.
Meloche. The metahuman with a shell of sap covering his body, he was sitting on a tree stump, children gathered around him, their eyes wide in wonder as he moved his body, evidently in the middle of a story.
“Joseph,” Dodeca said, “We're moving on.”
She looked over at him, followed his gaze to the philosopher.
“That's Meloche,” she said, “Part of the Workers class.”
“Oh, I know him,” Joseph said, “I'll catch up with you. Keep going.”
“I'm supposed to keep all of you with me.”
“And that Stonemaker guy said you could request any help you need, right?” Joseph said, “Meloche can ‘look after me,’ or whatever. I'll meet up with you guys for dinner.”
Dodeca thought about this. Then, glad to be rid of one of her tourists, nodded and kept going on. Joseph leaned against a tree, watching Meloche's class. The sapman was rising up, gesturing towards the sky.
“And from there, High King Coral struck,” he said, “The reef splintered, and rose at his command, ensnaring the starship high above.”
One of the children, a little girl with a mantid's arms, brought her claws to her mouth with a gasp.
“With a great shout!” Meloche roared, “He used his power, and pulled the starship to the sea below. The Alu'eer who commanded the starship rose from his throne. He walked on the sea, for the First Men were able to do so, in those days, and upon reaching the shore, he bowed to Coral.”
He kneeled.
“He and High King Coral talked long into the night, and deep into the day. When it was over, the Alu'eer left, leaving Armagest and allowing it to flourish. For a time, at least.”
And, finally, Meloche noted Joseph. The philosopher froze at the sight of him, before turning his attention back to the children.
“But that, I think, is a story for another day.”
The children started speaking up in a series of 'awws' and 'but-just-one-mores,' but Meloche brought up a hand in silence.
“You have your other classes, my friends,” he said, “Go on now, we will continue our lessons tomorrow.”
The children got up, jabbering to each other, a couple dancing and skipping away from Meloche's clearing. One of them, the one with indigo wings, took to the sky above her classmates. Joseph approached the old philosopher as he rose up. They clasped hands.
“Joseph Zheng,” he said, “As I live and breathe.”
“Good to see you, Meloche,” Joseph said, “I see you're in your element.”
“Ha!” Meloche said, “Yes. I found out about New Ludaya soon after Prime. It's...”
He watched the children leave. Already, another teacher was collecting them, scooping them up in laughing bundles with her multiple, wave-like arms.
“It's good, Joseph,” Meloche said, “It feels good to dream again.”
He looked over at Joseph.
“And what of you?” he said, “What have you done since InterGuild?”
“Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that,” Joseph said, scratching the back of his head again, “Sorry, by the way, for messing things up with Bulg.”
Meloche shrugged.
“A business contact,” he said, “Nothing more. Nothing personal. I'm more concerned about you. Did you find a way back to Earth?”
“I... had some realizations,” Joseph said, “Decided I was happier out here.”
“I see,” Meloche said, “Well, I am very glad to see you again. And to see you in good health.”
Joseph laughed, though it was a touch bitter. Meloche slapped him on the back.
“Come!” he said, “I've finished teaching for the day. Let me get you a drink.”
“I'd like that,” Joseph said, “Lead the way.”
***
Someone knocked on Luminary's door. She looked over.
“Come in,” she said.
Mister Meaning strode inside, bowing to the two of them.
“Ms. Luminary, Mr. Shimmer-”
“He goes by 'Becenti,' now,” Luminary said.
“Ah!” Mister Meaning said, “Mr. Becenti. Your pardon, but it's time for the Council session.”
“Yes,” Luminary said, and she rose, “Myron, you've got to see this. The Council is convening for this week's moot. I want you to meet the ruling body. See who we've all got here.”
“R-Ruling body?”
“Why, of course,” Luminary said, and already she was getting up, donning a white shawl from her dresser, “If one is to have a nation, should there not be people to govern it?”
“We didn't have a ruling body on Old Ludaya.”
“We didn't have the time to get one set up,” Luminary said, “But here? Time has been our ally, Myron. We've got a council and everything. We've even started up the beginnings of a constitution.”
She smiled.
“Come. Let me show you.”
***
The Council met at the top of the mountain. Pauldros the Stonemaker was, once more, the architect, having carved a rectangular meeting place into the tallest spire of Mt. Redress, carved in such a way that it was indented into the stone, the walls of the spire hemming them in on all sides. Luminary's light dressed the place, lit up the darkness, so that even though it was almost cave-like, the only source of natural light coming from the single square opening high above, Becenti was able to see the members of the Council just fine.
The center of the room was dominated by a rectangular stone table, upon which a map of New Ludaya was lovingly molded, every river and every tree, every lake and hill, cast in painstaking detail, rising out of the ground like a holographic map. The plane, Becenti noted, was ringed in by a great mountain range, like a serpent biting its own tail. Mt. Redress stood tallest, at its southernmost tip.
Chairs were set at the table, stone chairs, like the rest of the place. Three to one side, two to another, one on the northern and southern sides. Luminary took her place at the northern side of the table. She sat alone.
We have already described two of the members. Nomatrius Dorucanthos, head of the Dorucanthos family, Seat of Commerce, sat at Luminary's left. He had an easy smile as he leaned back in his chair. Pauldros the Stonemaker sat beside him, and his each impatient tap on the table's surface made the room ripple.
Across from them were Lord Freak, the Pit, and Iconoclast. Lord Freak was wrapped up in a strange union of a scientist's lab coat and an alchemist's robes, and there was the stench of fresh experimentation about him, chemicals and cleaner and perhaps blood, and he was smiling his shark-toothed smile. His metahuman ability was to have a shark's teeth, and nothing else. They did not keep him around for his metagene.
He was the Seat of Science.
The Pit was wrapped up in blood red robes. She kept to herself, glaring with sunken eyes at Becenti in the corner. Her skin was chalk-white, and she was bald, though not by choice – she once had been prisoner in a Federation internment camp, and they had used a special shampoo to deaden her hair follicles so that nothing would grow, a ruin upon her head. Scars both surgical and weapon-made danced on her scalp instead of hair.
She was the Seat of Magic, and she always looked pregnant, her body swollen with demonic pacts and beasts won by aggressive negotiation. One did not learn about demons without learning their trade.
Beside her was Iconoclast, the Seat of History. He was a tall man, muscular and hale, the youngest of the members of the Council – perhaps in his thirties, Becenti mused. He was Asian, or whatever his world's equivalent to that was, and he kept his arms bare and crossed over his chest, his vest a decorative piece of vines and wooden pauldrons. There was no metal on his form. Iconoclast's power was anathema to it. He kept his hair short and his eyes were hard. Becenti had seen his kind before. Pain had made him ruthless. A warrior, above all else.
Sitting across from Luminary was Memoire. Becenti had only heard stories of her. Her skin was composed of words and letters, symbols such as eagle-headed men and political iconography. The unspoken, unrealized thoughts of the multiverse crawled on her skin like ants. Her hair was wild and askew, the tip of each of her ragged braids ending in a question mark, and her eyes were wide and dew-filled.
She was the Seat of Ritual and Secrets. She looked at Luminary nervously.
Luminary smiled.
“Gathered friends,” she said, “Let us begin. As the Seat of Warfare, I open up this sixty-fourth meeting of the Council of New Ludaya. Here, we will discuss our nation. But before we begin, I will note our observers.”
The Council shifted, and now everyone was looking at Becenti.
“Myron Becenti,” Luminary said, “Here from distant Londoa. He is an old friend of mine. You may recognize him.”
“Hail, war hero,” Iconoclast said, smirking, “Your reputation precedes you.”
“Y-You do not use your other name?” Memoire said in her high, reedy voice, “Y-You a-are among friends.”
(She forced out this last word with some difficulty.)
Becenti shook his head, giving her a good-natured smile.
“Just Becenti, for now.”
They nodded, accepting this answer.
Pauldros the Stonemaker rose from his seat.
“I'd like to present another observer. Someone who will also make her grievances known.”
Something flickered in Luminary's eyes.
“Oh?” she said, and her voice was a tad barbed.
Pauldros gestured, and a figure emerged from one of the staircases. A woman, in simple construction gear, her eyes glowing a shining yellow, like citrines.
“Lunus Oculus, of the Workers class,” Pauldros the Stonemaker said, “She is here as my personal guest.”
***
The bar that Meloche brought Joseph to was called the Dancing Dragon, and a depiction of one of the serpentine beings wound its way around the top of the building, its head resting just above the door. Joseph smiled at it, noted that the Dragon had three eyes, just like the one that had awoken him a few years ago.
It was near the end of second shift, so many patrons were at the bar. The person tending the bar had multiple arms, each one of a different kind, tentacled or scaled or feathered or furred, and they were passing out drink after drink to exhausted Workers. A metahuman in the corner was playing music, guitar strings running from their neck to their stomach, with a hole in their chest to better amplify the acoustics.
Meloche and Joseph sat down at a table in the corner of the room, and a server came over and took their orders.
“Ah, Ellian brandy for me,” Meloche said, “Joseph?”
“Same,” Joseph said. The server jotted the order, and walked away.
“Have you ever had it?” Meloche asked.
“Nah,” Joseph said, “But trips are for experimentation, right?”
“Ha!” Meloche said, “You'll like it. It's a smooth sort of after-dinner drink from Aristocrat's Abyss.”
Joseph raised an eyebrow at that.
“Not exactly the drink for this kind of crowd, is it?” he said, watching them laugh. The music began to take on a more energetic melody.
“You learn not to care as much, as time goes on,” Meloche said, “I want brandy, so I'm getting brandy.”
The server set down the drinks. They clinked glasses, and sipped. It was strong and tasted of golden raisins. Joseph put it down, swilling it in his glass for a second.
“Not bad,” he said.
“Takes just a bit of getting used to,” Meloche said, “That aftertaste is from the fruit from that area. It's sort of bittersweet.”
“Mmm,” Joseph said.
Someone walked in. Meloche looked over.
“Oh!” he said, “Fractal! Over here!”
Joseph turned around. A woman was walking over. She was tall, with braided dark hair and beetle black eyes. She was wearing a sari with a swirling design, blue in color, patterned with small beads and shells.
(Her mother's wedding dress, now a Warrior's uniform.)
“Meloche,” she said, “How good to see you. You have a friend?”
“This is Joseph Zheng, from off-plane,” Meloche said, “Old friend of mine. Do you remember when I told you about Death Valley?”
“Ah!” Fractal said, and her haughty eyes grew wide, “Yes! The eagle-man.”
She tilted her head at him.
“You're not as tall as I thought.”
Joseph raised an eyebrow.
“Tell me,” Fractal said, “Your power, when your soul is not manifested, where does it hide?”
Joseph looked at Meloche.
“I guess my reputation precedes me,” he said.
“Apologies, Joseph,” Meloche said, “I like to tell stories, and yours is a good one.”
Joseph smirked at that.
“I guess it is, isn't it?” he said, before saying to Fractal, “It sits in my stomach. My body's been reworked so it can move around like it's on an electric circuit. That's how it gains power.”
“So it's your weak point,” Fractal said.
“Hey, now,” Joseph said, “No one ever said anything about that. I keep my guard up.”
“And yet,” Fractal said, her smile becoming arrogant, “You've just told me more about your power. I have this knowledge over you, and yet you know nothing about what I can do.”
Joseph smiled back at her, but his eyes betrayed a sudden hardness, a flush of anger.
“Well,” he breathed, “Thought I was among friends.”
“To many, metahuman abilities are the source of their greatest strength,” Fractal said, “They are not to be simply revealed in idle curiosity.”
“And it's a sign of confidence,” Joseph countered, “To let others know what you can do, because they can't do anything about it.”
Fractal tilted her head.
“And you believe you can... take me?”
“I've taken my licks,” Joseph said, “I can take more.”
For a moment, the two glared at each other. Meloche prepared to intervene, if things escalated.
Then, Fractal let out a barking laugh. Joseph gave a savage grin.
“Good!” she said, “He's as tough as you say. Mind if I sit with you?”
“Be my guest,” Joseph said, and he scooted over for the taller woman to sit down. Fractal took her place, and a server came over with her usual order of a bright pink cocktail with a cherry.
***
“Gathered friends,” Pauldros the Stonemaker said, “I request that Lunus Oculus take the floor.”
“To air grievances,” Luminary said, with a grandmother’s patience.
“Yes,” Pauldros said, “She represents a group of metahumans who are all of the Worker class, who have been concerned about certain aspects of the work they have been doing.”
Lunus Oculus nodded gratefully to him. Becenti, in his corner of the room, leaned back against the wall. He noted Luminary's gaze flicker over to him for a split second.
“You have the floor,” Luminary said to Lunus Oculus. Lunus Oculus nodded, moving forward so she was standing at the corner of the table between Pauldros and Memoire. Memoire flinched. Pauldros smiled.
“Hello,” Lunus Oculus said, “My metahuman name is Lunus Oculus. I am a member of the Workers class, and I represent a gathering of us who have some concerns about a few recent decisions that have been brought down by the Council.”
She paused, waiting for any comment. When there was none, she continued.
“Recently, our workload has tripled in scope,” she said, “Especially in relation to the recent excavations into the Simhdal Caverns, which has proven to be dangerous work. Already, we have had several cave-ins. The designs provided to us are...”
She hesitated. Pauldros the Stonemaker nodded to her.
“Are odd,” she said, “And... they make the structure frail.”
“Is not Pauldros the Stonemaker in charge of the architecture?” the Pit said.
“Not here,” Pauldros said, “It's...”
He looked over at Luminary.
“It's a project under the Seat of War,” he said, “I think it was Molesque that drafted the designs.”
“Yes,” Luminary said, “It's a... personal project of mine, for the future of the nation.”
“And yet,” the Pit said, “Not under the Seat of Infrastructure?”
“No,” Luminary said.
“What is it, then?” Lunus Oculus said, and then added, “Respectfully. Molesque simply tells us where to build, or where to dig, and little else.”
“A project for the future of the nation,” Luminary said.
There was some pause. Becenti looked hard at his old friend. This was not like her.
“Rest assured,” Luminary said, “It's something that will benefit the nation. The Seat of Commerce is already aware of the costs incurred for it, as well as the workforce required for its construction.”
All eyes turned to Nomatrius Dorucanthos, who shrugged.
“There are a couple contracts related to it,” he said, “I haven't delved in too deeply. But I'm aware, and it's in the budget.”
“What is it, Luminary?” the Pit pushed, “I think it would be good, for the sake of transparency, for us to know.”
“I agree,” Pauldros the Stonemaker said, giving Luminary a pointed look.
There was a tense pause. Luminary seemed to suppress a grimace.
“It's a factory,” she said, “...Nothing more.”
She looked at Lunus Oculus.
“Is that all?” she said.
“No,” Lunus Oculus said, “There's also the role that the Worker class has been playing in New Ludayan society.”
Another awkward silence.
“Continue,” Pauldros the Stonemaker said.
“There's the fact that we aren't getting as much food as the Warriors,” Lunus Oculus said, “Nor are we being considered when it comes to major decisions here on the Council. In many cases, if there is a dispute between a Warrior and a Worker, the Council decides on the Warrior's argument.”
“More often than not, because the Warrior's argument is sound,” Iconoclast said.
“Not necessarily,” Lunus Oculus said, “There was the matter of the Crystal Lake neighborhoods, which was a community center used by the Workers, where we lived and raised our families. When it came time to expand the Warrior class during the recent series of Awakenings, many of the Workers were forced to relocate.”
“But all of New Ludaya is a paradise,” Luminary said, “You were given the pick of the plane for relocation.”
“But it was our home,” Lunus Oculus said, “And we did not have a say in the matter.”
“I... see,” Luminary said, “That... hmm.”
“She's got a point,” Nomatrius Dorucanthos said, “That was kind of a clusterfuck anyways, wasn't it?”
“What is your solution to this?” Luminary asked.
“I recommend,” Lunus Oculus said, “That we be allowed a seat on the council. A Seat of Workers.”
“We already have a role that fulfills such a need,” Iconoclast said, “Pauldros the Stonemaker is the Seat of Infrastructure.”
“With respect,” Lunus Oculus said, “Pauldros the Stonemaker is not on the ground actively. He is an admirable organizer, but he is not involved in every project that the Worker class is involved in.”
“Would we have a representative from the Warrior class, as well?” Luminary said, “What about the Rulers class, which we are already a part of?”
“If the Warriors wish for a representative, then they should be allowed one as well,” Lunus Oculus said.
There was another pause. Luminary cleared her throat.
“The Council will consider your suggestion, Lunus Oculus,” she said, “But, like all decisions, it must be one with patient deliberation. We will discuss this, and then give you your answer.”
There was something in the Founder's words that made one of Lunus Oculus's burning yellow eyes twitch. But she nodded.
“Of course,” she said.
“You are dismissed,” Luminary said.
“Thank you for your time,” Lunus Oculus said. And she moved out of the chamber. Luminary looked to the rest of the group.
“Now,” she said, “With that distraction out of the way, I would like to turn our attention to more important matters. Several of our spies have reported...”
***
“So,” Joseph said, “A member of the Warrior class, right?”
Fractal took a sip of her cocktail before answering. The music continued its erratic tone, as the musician, while still playing, shotgunned a beer.
“Yes,” she said, “It's nothing special. It just means more military training, more use of our powers for when the Federation inevitably finds out about us.”
“And what does being in the Warrior class mean, exactly?” Joseph said, “How do you get in?”
“Your power needs to be evaluated by someone in the Ruler class,” Fractal said, “Usually there are specific inspectors. They determine if your ability can be used in an active combat scenario, or provides an advantage others normally would not have.”
“So, powers over fire, or acid, or something,” Joseph said.
“Or electricity,” Fractal said, smirking, “Oh, I know a few drill instructors who would love to see you fight.”
Joseph shrugged.
“We can set something up later,” he said.
Fractal took another drink. Joseph sipped at his brandy. His brow furrowed, and he jabbed a thumb at Meloche.
“I know Meloche here is a fighter,” he said, “He survived Death Valley. Took a few good swings, too. Why isn't he a Warrior?”
“Because the instructor deemed that his ability wasn't the most combat capable,” Fractal said.
“What about the bartender, over there?” Joseph said, “Multiple arms. Multiple weapons.”
“You'd need to ask them yourself,” Fractal said, “I wasn't there for their inspection. Probably didn't pass because of their own personality.”
She paused at this, looking at her drink.
“All of us are survivors. But not all of us are fighters.”
There was a somber look on her face. For a moment, her facade dropped. Joseph, noting this leaned in.
“Hey, world needs all kinds, right?” he said.
“...Yes,” Fractal said, “And that is why the Warrior class is there. We will defend New Ludaya, when the time comes.”
She smiled again.
“But enough about that. What of you? You are a man of the multiverse, aren't you?”
“Not just a man of the multiverse,” Meloche said, “Joseph's in a guild. Amber Foundation.”
“A-Amber Foundation?” Fractal said, and at this her eyes widened, “Titania Amber's guild?”
“You a fan?” Joseph said.
“Yes,” Fractal said, “She visited my Nani’s village when Nani was a young girl. I grew up hearing stories about her.”
“All true, I hope,” Joseph said.
“Does it matter?” Fractal said, “Most of them were probably not. Embellishments from her childhood. Or made-up fairy tales. But they mattered to her, and they matter to me.”
She looked at Joseph, and her smile grew manic.
“And now,” she said, “A member of her guild is here. Tell me, is it as they say?”
“What?” Joseph said, “All adventure?”
“Yes.”
“There's a lot of fighting,” Joseph said, “More than you'd think, actually.”
At this, Fractal's eyes started to dazzle. Joseph couldn't help but laugh.
“Alright,” he said, “What do you want to know?”
“Your toughest fight.”
“Ah, hell,” Joseph said, “Probably... I don't know, Mordenaro?”
“You faced Mordenaro?”
“Well, it wasn't much,” Joseph said, “He was throwing us around like ragdolls for most of it, but I got a few good licks in...”
He talked to Fractal about his journey. She told him about her training on New Ludaya. More drinks were poured. More music played.
And they spoke long into the day.