Day 35, Month 4, Day 7

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Wicked Tselyth

Northern shore of the South-of-Home River

—

Wicked Tselyth crouched on the ground, her knees up against her ears, staring at a crude map of the surrounding lands she had just finished scratching out. Surrounding her was what amounted to the command authority of the small horde that she led. A misbegotten, crude, and largely useless lot, but it was what she had. First, to her right her two coveners, Maldred and Calamiss. Weaker and younger, neither had a title to their names. Maldred was the one with a sickly blue skin color, blotchy with splotches of black and yellow. Her hair was green and ragged, and her ears long and pointed, with great tufts of hair growing out of them. As hags went, she was alright, but she lacked the brains to go with her ambition. The other was Calamiss, an elegant inky black, smooth skinned and supple. Except for her sharp features and over long nose, she might even be considered attractive, by a human. But her eyes were red orbs of hate and her fingernails were long and edged, and she smelled of sulfur. She was dangerous and sharp, and would soon have her own title unless Tselyth could do something about it.

Maldred owed Wicked Tselyth for accepting her into the coven, and part of the debt had been paid through the Witch Vuiloa, who served Maldred in some capacity. So far, that had been less than adequate compensation, in Tselyth’s opinion, and Maldred’s standing had fallen as a result. Calamiss was the one who had brought the orcs in on this project, and as a result owed no one anything, which made her intractable and rude. Still, the three of them were a full coven, and they could tap into demonic power, so it was enough.

To her left, the War Chieftess of the orcs, Jo-Rok-Ult. She was an intimidating two meters tall, but built like a runner or dancer, not a muscular warrior. She was fast, and agile, and could put an arrow through the knothole of a tree at two hundred meters with that short bow, a feat none of the other orcs could match. Jo-Rok-Ult listened only to Calamiss, but rightly feared Wicked Tselyth, and was smarter than most of the filthy trash that constituted this horde. Tselyth wanted her loyalty for herself, but Calamiss was still too important to the coven to make that kind of move.

Behind Jo-Rok-Ult was the Witch Vuiloa. Vuiloa had put herself in bad odor lately, failing to deliver the boy to the hags and having a host of vaguely worded excuses for the disaster with her orcs by the river almost a week ago. Tselyth knew Vuiloa was lying, but she couldn’t prove it and besides, Vuiloa kept the goblins pointed in the right direction and intervened when they had whatever issues goblins felt were important enough to bother their leader with. Tselyth certainly did not want to adjudicate yet another round of so and so had bit such and such’s finger off, so now it was their turn to get a finger bit, and the two bitches had maybe 6 fingers between them… It gave Tselyth a headache just thinking about it. More of a headache, anyway. No, Vuiloa was still barely more useful alive than dead, so here she stood, avoiding Tselyth’s gaze and trying to hide behind the stronger Jo-Rok-Ult.

Maldred and Vuiloa had brought just over one thousand goblins with them, an impressive number in this beknighted age. Goblin culture was one of constant infighting, death, and misery, and it was incredibly rare for a goblin to rise to Master Tier like Witch Vuiloa. Almost all of the horde were apprentices of various stripes, and were widely considered worthless in modern warfare, despite their numbers. A full company of Empire regulars could kill the entire lot of them, not without casualties, but with relative certainty. Their primary use was to generate Magic Pool points for their betters to Draw forth from them, either through blood or other means. And to slow down attackers trying to cut their way to the more valuable orcs.

There had been seventeen goblins who were Journey tier, but now there were only ten. Four dead in that ill fated attack on Melite, including three by the boy. And then another three died in Melite’s counter attack while Tselyth had been distracted trying to find the boy's trail and Kan-Tal-Yek was recovering. Ten left, when they needed thirteen. Tselyth ground her teeth hard in frustration, the sound like fingernails on a chalkboard, and making Vuiloa wince. Which in turn made Tselyth smile. A brief moment of comfort from Vuiloa’s pain, maybe the bitch had a use after all.

Calamiss and Jo-Rok-Ult had brought two hundred and fifty orc war maidens, each with a warg mount. A formidable fighting force, mobile, hard hitting, and well disciplined. Down ten after Vuiloa’s carefully excused and hedged disaster. They were the primary fighting arm of the horde, and had a scattering of Master tier leaders, including of course Jo-Rok-Ult. The rest were all Journey tier, but they would not allow themselves to be used in rituals like the goblins would, and besides were too valuable to waste. It took years to get an orc up to Journey tier, and trained to fight. Sacrificing them or abusing them was a net loss, power wise. And Jo-Rok-Ult wouldn’t like it, and Tselyth wanted Jo-Rok-Ult.

As to what Wicked Tselyth’s brought to the coven? Well, her own personal power was quite impressive. She had traded blows with the Rune tier Witch Einar Tiana, and while both had been wounded, it had been an even fight. Tselyth didn’t care about the scar Tiana had left her, or the betrayal. Hiding the boy from Tselyth only made sense, Tiana had probably been fucking him six different ways a night, and who would give up that? Tselyth would have done the exact same thing in her position, and held no grudge. Still would gut the bitch when she got the chance, but it wasn’t a personal thing. But it wasn’t only her title of Wicked or her abilities that made her the de facto head of this little horde. Tselyth, after all, controlled the demons.

There had been four, to start. Two Myikteks, medium tier, excellent scouts, harassers, and terror weapons. A step up from the lesser demons, a single Myikteks could kill half the goblins in this horde, and only that few because the rest would flee from its reach before it could finish the job. Then there was the Cazakodemon, a brutal siege weapon standing four meters tall, with four arms ending in dual pincers, along with its spider-like head and mouth. Also medium tier, giving up brains and any hint of magical power for physical strength, it could force the gates, and kill any number of militia. It would take a champion to face it, and Tselyth’s information indicated no such champion existed in the ranks of the Empire’s forces. Finally, there was Tselyth’s annoying, fractious, disloyal spy, who was nonetheless utterly key to winning this entire fight. An agent whose face she didn’t dare even think of, lest some sorcerer pluck it from her brain. A message from whom had arrived this night. Four medium tier demons, almost enough to slaughter the town all by herself, if it weren't for that War Tower.

“One of the Myikteks was killed. Pity. It seems there are counter spies in town, and one or two of them had the balls to find and destroy it.” Tselyth read the missive aloud to the gathered command group.

A stir from the assembled.

“I thought, dear sister, that we had accounted for all the individuals capable of such a feat in the town.” Calamiss hissed out, snapping her teeth together for emphasis.

“If you kept your gob shut and your ears open, you’d deduce the same thing as me. Guess I have to do all the thinking here, don’t I dearie? Obviously there is an unknown actor at play!” Tselyth growled out.

Vuiloa seized on the opening. “The boy! I told you, he was exceptional!”

“The boy, the boy.” Maldred mocked in a sing-song tone. “All I hear is this boy. Is he four meters tall? Does he shoot fire from his ass?” Maldred seemed to be taking her loss of face out on her lessers.

“Shut it! I’m thinking, since no one else can!” Tselyth commanded. “Boy or no, it doesn’t change the plan.”

The Myiktek was nearly irreplaceable, and was a considerable part of her power. She had lost a lot of status in addition to the power, and Calamiss would be looking for an opening now. Tselyth had been promised access to some of the limited stock of men the Aunties held on to, as a reward for success on this mission. Bring back twenty or thirty good slaves, slaughter a thousand humans, destroy their primary outpost here in the northeast. It would mark her as an up and coming hag, shave decades off her ascension to Auntie. If she could succeed.

“Now now, let’s not be too hasty, Sister.” Maldred broke Tselyth’s concentration, an ingratiating smile on her face.

“Wicked. Wicked Tselyth, need I remind you Maldred. I didn’t gut my way to where I am to be called Sister by the likes of you!” Tselyth spat out. “And shut that gaping hole under your nose while I make progress on the next step!”

“Wicked Tselyth, I have an offer you are going to want to hear, believe you me.” Maldred continued on, full of unaccounted for courage.

“Well? Out with it then!” Tselyth was already trying to figure the angle here, this was not like Maldred at all. Had she missed something important?

“The girls, my little wee goblins here, they have a bit of a pet, you see.” Maldred said, her smile widening. “A little spirit whom they call Kan-Tal-Yek.”

Tselyth almost smacked Maldred across the face for such buffoonery, but something in that smile of theirs made her hesitate.

“Well you see, the dear things got it in their heads that its a goddess to them, and that Vuiloa here is their high priestess!” Maldred pulled Vuiloa over with one sickle claw, and patted the smaller goblin’s head with the other. “Imagine that! Still, something interesting came out of it all. Now, consider this little spirit charged up on one thousand points or so. Not so little anymore. I think, with one of the Myiktek dead, having something else to attack the tower with would be prudent, wouldn’t you agree?”

If only Vuiloa had held on to that boy! At the height of her power, with none of the other two able to contest her, neither one could have stopped the boy from falling into her clutches. A typical Journey tier man could make four or so demons, of the lesser sort, or two medium tier, like the Myikteks or the Cazakodemon. Vuiloa’s stories about the boy, if they could be believed, implied he was gifted in some way. Could she wring a greater demon out of him? Something even more powerful than the Cazakodemon, something that could let her join the ranks of the Aunties, and leave field work behind? A delicious thought.

But no, instead here was the barbed hook in Maldred’s obvious plan. Tselyth, weakened, and here comes Maldred with the perfect solution, held back for just such an opportune moment.

“Well, are you going to show it to me, or is it all just hot air?” Tselyth wavered.

Maldred squeezed Vuiloa’s shoulders and Vuiloa concentrated in that way that Witches did when they were summoning a spirit from beyond the barrier between worlds. What formed in front of her was a storm cloud, black and angry and vibrant with flashes of lighting, yet no thunder to be heard. A face, head, and torso of a naked goblin woman formed out of the cloud. Over all, In this weak state it was no larger than Vuiloa’s head, but as Vuiloa fed it power, it grew to about the size of the goblin Witch. Ample evidence of Kan-Tal-Yek unique ability. Oh it was a good thing she hadn’t killed Vuiloa out of hand. Her estimation of the Witches' courage went up dramatically, holding back something like that in the face of Tselyth’s anger, waiting for the right moment.

“Alright you lying traitorous hack. What do you want for bringing this thing into the plan?” Tselyth’s voice was filled with anger, but tinged with respect. She hated the thought of bargaining with Maldred, but no hag got far ignoring opportunities when they were presented. You grabbed what you could, and you twisted the price you paid as hard as you could to your advantage. Maldred had just had her clever moment, best let her shine so she could be knocked down a peg or three when the time was ripe.

“No more debt between us, Wicked Tselyth. We are square after this. And that means equal shares of the loot, the slaves, and anything else we pull out of that town!” Maldred’s voice had dropped all pretense of ingratiating whine, and turned harsh and demanding.

“Fine! But this Kan-Tal-Yek better take out the Tower, or there won’t be any loot to split!” Then she spit on her palm and held it out to Maldred, who mirrored the gesture and then shook on it.

Now that settled, she glared at the others for silence. She had to set aside thoughts of power eating spirits and a man's tender flesh. Instead, a different concern was burning its way into her head, an iron hot augur of pain, the source of her headache. Logistics.

The goblins were useless rabble, but they could eat nearly anything that wasn’t made of rock. Their needs were, like themselves, simple. Feed off the land, rile them up through Vuiloa, and steal their otherwise useless Magic Pool points when needed. Part of the previous deal was that Wicked Tselyth was granted some of those points when she demanded them. She in turn used them to feed her pets, the demons, whilst not weakening herself at all, and thus maintained her hold over the coven.

The orcs were a different story entirely. Two hundred forty orcs, and most importantly, two hundred forty wargs that they rode. Those wargs were picky eaters, nothing but meat would do to sate their hunger. And they were clever things, clever enough to make quite an issue of their empty bellies if they weren’t fed on time. The horde was four, maybe five days force-marched from the walls of their objective. But all the goblins and orcs and wargs together could not carry sufficient food to perform such a march, and if they tried they would arrive as a useless starving mess.

This problem had pinned her to the herds here on the plains north of the river for far too long. Oh, Tselyth had once had a plan for this wee problem. Thirteen goblin Journey tier, together with the full coven, and she could summon forth Hell Ants. As large as a horse, yet they retained the relative strength of their normal sized kin. They could be loaded with more than sufficient food to supply the horde on the quick trip to the town, as well as enough to retreat back if things went sour.

But then! She had taken a calculated risk in attacking Melite’s little Fae enclave, but it had turned into a disaster. It had to have been done, Melite was far too dangerous to leave at Tselyth’s rear, and in the end the Nymph had packed her Fae up and moved east where she wouldn’t be in Tselyth’s path. Melite had abandoned the field to save her own hide and her own pets, which Tselyth had known she would, but the cost had been too high.

Naturally she had considered just feeding the stupid goblins to the wargs. But it wouldn’t work in the end, she needed their numbers for the Magic Pool points she could gather to feed the demons. And now she needed them twice as much, to power up Kan-Tal-Yek before the attack on the town. Plus a warg could scarf down one of these skinny, worthless goblins a day, and by the time she reached the town she would be all out of them.

The destroyed Myiktek would alert the Empire's defenders, who would ask for reinforcements from down river. Worse, with Tiana fled to the Free Elves, there was a real possibility of those pointed eared freaks mobilizing a force to come against her from the north west. Which meant that she was being squeezed and nearly out of time. She needed to make her move, crush the town before any other forces could take the field, and then retreat back to the mountains.

There was nothing else for it. She would have to barter for help from the Aunties.

“Sisters dearest, do me a favor and set up the telepathy circle.” Tselyth demanded. Maldred stalked over, hate always simmering but confident in her recent victory. Calamiss looked contemptuous and wary, and waited just long enough to be aggravating before obeying. “Vuiloa, I need three of your tastiest morsels. Don’t dawdle now, hup hup.” Tselyth smiled evilly at the Witch, who nodded and hurriedly left, in search of the not-quite-sacrificial almost-victims that Tselyth required.

“Jo-Rok-Ult.” Tselyth’s voice turned sweet as honey when addressing the orc chieftess. “I would so hate to see your girls go hungry on the march, and their sweet wolves as well. If it wouldn't be a bother, could you send your maidens out to hunt enough meat to feed the wargs? Twelve days worth, I think, but get as much as you like.” Jo-Rok-Ult looked to Calamiss for confirmation, waiting for her to nod before leaving to make her preparations.

Wicked Tselyth rubbed her temple, trying to ease the pounding of her head. Joining her coveners at the telepathy circle was going to be a chore, no doubt about it. The Aunties would cotton on that she was over a barrel here, and demand much to give very little. But by the end of the day she would be on the move again. She would crush that squalid little town, capture or butcher its people, and return in triumph despite all these annoying setbacks.

And if she could track down and capture herself a little boy along the way, well… wouldn’t that just make everything perfect.

—

Name: Phoenix

Journey Tier

Attributes: 0 points

Strength: 7, Constitution: 14, Coordination: 13, Mentality: 23, Will: 17.3, Charisma: 18, Luck: 13

Spells: Draw Earth

Skills: Ritual (Worship Arachnae) 35%->38%

Arcane Skills: Magical Theory 60%->63%, Intensity 60%->63%, Duration 56%-> 58%, Passivity 60%->62%, Magical Targeting 72%-> 75%

Luck Uses: 0 (1 recharging,

Hit Points: 1 (15) [healing halted, Death damage]

Magic Pool: 39.4

Death Damage V

—

Thoughts of the fight with the demon interfered with Phoenix’s rest, along with constant worry about something moving around in the large open barracks. Whenever he opened his eyes to look about, his boon enhanced sight easily piercing the darkness, nothing and no one was evident. Such a result was of little comfort, as he still could not figure out how the demon had appeared behind him so suddenly.

In the dim early hours of the morning, with nothing but the soft sound of rain for company, he sat and fumed. Ordinarily he would get up and worship at the Arachnae altar, then practice improving his passageway. He had been neglecting his physical workout routine, partly because he didn’t have enough time for everything he wanted to do in a day, and partly because it had either slowed down or ceased to produce the results he had been getting. A poor set of excuses, so he resolved to alter his routine as best he could to fit it in.

Carefully, he levered himself up out of the bed and got dressed in the golden threaded cowl. His previous set of clothes, bought at the market here in town, were a bloodied mess and appeared past saving to him, but he would bring them back to the tailor anyway. Maybe there was some magic that could save them. At one hit point, he was incredibly weak, his wounded left leg refusing to sustain his weight, his wounded shoulder announcing with sharp stabs of pain that his motion with that arm was strictly limited. Everything took longer, hurt more, expended more time.

He formed his sled once again, smaller so it could fit through the hallways and doorways of the temple. A mobility aid device, basically, made of Illusory Earth. With it, he floated his way over to the Arachnae altar, vigilant in the darkness of the sleeping temple. His vigilance did alert him to some signs of heightened security. A guard stood inside the temple doors as he passed through the area where Panna worked on the way to the altar room. Another guard was at the entrance to the main worship room, and Phoenix reckoned that there must be a whole squad deployed around the temple, guarding the doors and important points, the War Tower most of all.

Phoenix arrived at the altar and did as much of the ritual as he could, minus some of the more elaborate dance-like positioning that was demanded. It did not seem to matter, as the altar once again sucked down twenty points of Magic Pool. With reluctance, the memory of stealing the demon’s soul was still fresh in his mind- would it ever fade, with his memory? He used Draw Breath to recharge his pool.

Hello? Phoenix? An alto voice intruded on his thoughts, the timbre and pitch making it hard for him to place a gender on tone alone.

“Hello. Who are you?” Phoenix whispered aloud, casually scanning the alcove around him, paying particular attention to the shadows. When he turned his attention back to what was in front of him, a humanoid figure was sitting on the altar. They felt about his height, although they were sitting so it was difficult to judge, and were dressed much as Michael had been dressed- tight black leather pants, matching high heel boots up to the knees, a white cloth sarashi style wrap around their chest, and a black leather jacket with a high collar. This person was clean shaven, or wasn’t wearing the makeup to appear to have a five-o’clock shadow. Their hair was pitch black and long, and their face…

Two eyes, but no mouth or nose, exactly as Arachnae appeared to him.

“Forgive me for not bowing, your holiness.” Phoenix said, bending his neck in as close to a bow as he could manage in the situation he was in.

Arachnae, or what looked like a male version of Arachnae anyway, did that weird smile with their eyes. “No need for formalities! You have done quite a nice job with the place, I haven’t been able to visit here in some time.” They gestured around the alcove with the altar, taking in the cleaned up tile and freshly scrubbed altar.

“No offense, but why do you look like that?” Phoenix asked, once again substituting bluntness for tact.

Arachnae wagged a finger at him. “This is what I look like! Well, what I look like when I look like this. In this form, you should call me Shai. Technically, the first form you met of me isn’t actually called Arachnae but she doesn’t like her name in your language so she uses another.”

Phoenix could already tell this was going to make his head hurt, in the state that he was in.

“So you are an… aspect of Arachnae? The male aspect?” He hazarded a guess.

“Hmmm, nope! I am me, but you could say that I am the facet of me that looks like this, talks like this, acts like this. Although to be fair, I am a bit fractured these days. It has been a very rough couple thousand years, and I am not quite what I used to be.” Shai said, then hopped off the altar and stood over Phoenix.

“Wanted to talk to you, obviously, and not about how I look.” He said.

“Your holiness, I have no excuse…” Phoenix started.

Shai leaned over and put one finger on Phoenix's mouth. “Shush. Arachnae is probably going to be upset with you. I, on the other hand, take a more practical approach to things. Was what you did standing with one toe on the line? Yes. But you were not over the line. That kind of demon is a mindless killing machine, let loose on unsuspecting towns like this to cause mayhem and destruction. Dozens, maybe hundreds, would have died before it was put down, except for you. So good on you, nice job. You can consider this to have all been reported and dealt with appropriately, no need to bring it up again.”

Phoenix stared at Shai dubiously. That sounded an awful lot like he was keeping secrets from Arachnae. Who was Shai. His supposition from the beginning was correct, he had a headache already.

“I am more interested in the sudden influx of power you achieved by doing what you did.” Shai continued. “Ordinarily, Draw, regardless of the donor material, only recharges your Magic Pool, it doesn’t suddenly expand it. You, on the other hand, managed to merge your passageway with the demons. Quite the trick! So I thought I would drop by using some of that power you have been so generously donating, and take a quick gander.”

Shai was walking around Phoenix as he talked, bending in close, then stepping away to peer at him from a distance, then taking a few steps around once again. It felt all very theatrical and unnecessary to Phoenix, but what did he know after all. As he went, Shai’s face became more and more grim.

“Problem?” Phoenix asked.

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“Hmm, no not as such. Or rather, I have a suspicion and this is another piece of the puzzle.” Shai responded.

“What happened to me? Am I tainted now, somehow?” Phoenix asked.

“Hah, no nothing like that. Your Heroic Soul provides you with greater head room, so to speak, in your Magic Pool maximum. You have been taking advantage of that by sacrificing for a full suite of Glyphs. What you pulled out of the demon is some kind of lynchpin, or anchor, that enables it to exist in and bypass my protection of this world. That lynchpin merged with you to fill up the gap between where you were, Magic Pool-wise, and where your Heroic Soul feels like you should be.” Shai tapped his chin, a gesture Phoenix recognized from watching Arachnae.

“It is not unlike bonding with a familiar, in many respects, except it becomes wholly a part of you instead of simply being bonded to you. Now, I’ve nearly exhausted the power you donated today so I will be off, but one little tidbit to leave you with. I give you permission to try this again on any other non-thinking demons you happen to come across. Don’t mess around drawing on living things though, let's not give Arachnae any reason to be angry with you ok?” Shai nodded, firmly. “This would normally count as an update for your contract, but I would like you to keep in touch on your currently scheduled date anyway. I need to pay closer attention to you, it seems!”

“Wait! Before you go, what happened to Michael?” Phoenix reached out to halt Shai.

“I don’t know, I can’t see hir presence and zie hasn't worshiped here for some time. If you find out, let me know would you? I cherish hir.” Was the response.

With that, Shai struck a pose, legs spread more than shoulder width apart, left hand on his hips, right hand hout out and palm facing Phoenix, fore finger and middle making a V sign. “Out!” And he disappeared.

Phoenix frowned, his feeling left a roiling mess after that. Did he trust this incarnation that claimed to be a part of Arachnae? Well it was about the same as saying did he trust anything in this mad world. An existential nightmare with no definitive answer. For now, he would trust but verify, he could follow up with Arachnae in a week or two and figure things out.

When he turned his little craft around, he let out a fortunately very unmanly squeak as he spied Priestess Realwen standing behind him, looking stern. “I had wondered what was so important that you would drag yourself out of your death bed to attend to it. Your piety is quite admirable, but perhaps you should let me finish healing you first?”

“Priestess Reelwen! I hadn’t heard you come in or I would have included you in the conversation.” Phoenix said.

“That would be an impressive feat, given that all I heard was you asking after Michael. Don’t worry, your privacy is secure, the Goddesses do not allow mere mortals to overhear Their directives by accident or eavesdropping. Come, worship services are about to start, let me get you fixed up.” Reelwen reached a hand out to touch his forehead.

Phoenix resisted the urge to back away, Reelwen chanted quietly as she held two fingers to his temple.

“Oh Mother Lia, grant blessed relief from the curse of this wound.”

Once again, pale light encased him, only this time it went further. The black smoke of his wounds escaped, and the light invaded them, forming the flesh whole once again, without any mark or scar to remind him of the pain.

“There, I have very nearly exhausted my Rune Pool to get rid of the Death damage, but fortunately you were the only injured person. Which I hear I have you to thank for, so thank you, you saved many lives yesterday.” She withdrew her touch, and smiled.

“I’ll leave you now to your devotions. We should have tea sometime, I have been remiss in getting to know you.”

Phoenix nodded, fixing a smile on his face. “Thank you for healing me, Priestess.”

Reelwen waved away his gratitude, and returned to the larger worship hall to presumably prepare for the daily ritual. Phoenix was done with his own oblations, and was no longer an invalid, so he headed out into the mustering yard surrounding the temple. Evidence of yesterday's excitement was scattered all about the place. Instead of the early morning crowds going to the food stands or proceeding along the roads to work, several squads of militia were drilling in the street, and foot traffic was organizing itself along the side of the roads to stay out of the way.

In general, everyone was acting with a bit more wariness, a bit more energy in how they moved. People who knew each other embraced for a little longer, strangers stood a bit further apart. One attack had a profound effect on the entire feel of the community, and he couldn’t really blame them. Phoenix himself still had no idea how that thing had appeared out of the shadows without him noticing. He had resolved instead to ask Yvonne for advice on how to defend himself from surprise attacks, if such a thing were possible, as well as speed up raising some of his defenses.

He purchased breakfast and lunch for himself and Yvonne, and made his way back to the temple and to the entrance to the War Tower. The full Fourth squad was there, kitted it out in their war gear and looking alert. Hella was still as friendly as ever, waving as she approached.

“Fena! Goddess above you certainly are the talk of the town! Stranger kills Myiktek all by her lonesome, is rushed ta’ temple near death, no one knows the rest! You look fine ta’ me however!” Hella put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze and looking him up and down.

“Yes, the Priestess fixed me up this morning as good as new. I got lucky with the Myiktek, I really should be dead.” Phoenix replied, voice a little shaky still as he recalled that first awful blow out of the shadows.

“Hey, better lucky than… well most anything actually! Not something I would know myself, luck stat is trash tier for me. Seriously envy those who are born wit’ a little extra there ya’ know? Here to see Yvonne?” Hella’s expression was sympathetic, her tone one of forced cheerfulness.

“Yes. New security posture?” Phoenix asked.

“If that means you have to go through more jumps, then yes. Come on, I’ll get ya’ sorted.” Hella led him through the two lines of crossbow wielding soldiers, and to the door. A few signatures on pieces of paper later, and Hella let him use his blue crystal slate to open the door proper.

Heading up the elevator, Phoenix went about setting everything up as instructed- brewing tea, setting out parchment and a notebook for Yvonne, and so on. Then he sat next to the bookshelf full of what he could only describe as textbooks and chatted with Anaxitrith. The textbooks were all carefully handwritten notes from Yvonne about her classes, well organized and used as reference. The conversation with Anaxitrith was an odd affair of whispered words from him and patient waiting as she spelled out her replies on the palm of his hand. Anaxitrith was just as curious as everyone else to hear the story of his fight with the demon, so he relayed it as best he could without dwelling too much on the pain and fear.

Everyone seems to take this kind of thing in stride, more or less. I’ll have to practice reciting these kinds of stories without getting caught up in my head, everyone expects it.

Eventually Yvonne made her way down from above. She spent a few minutes drinking the tea he had prepared and slowly eating breakfast, before finally finishing waking up. Phoenix, who had been waiting for this precise moment, pounced.

“Magus Yvonne, I had a question for you, if you have a moment.” he started.

“Question? Very well I have a few minutes to indulge a question.” Yvonne turned her attention to him fully.

“Recent events have made it abundantly clear to me that raising and maintaining my defenses in a fight takes too long to be practical. I was hoping you in your wisdom would know of a solution to the problem.” Phoenix was trying on his humble act once again.

“A common problem with our style of magic use. Spiritualists have the main advantage here, almost all of their powers or spells are extremely quick to activate, work without concentration, and stack efficiently. Divine magic also works quickly, although it may or may not require concentration and stacking it can be quite tricky. For us however, time is always the greatest enemy we face. Given enough of it, we can rival the Gods, but without it we are no more than mortal. Less so than most, to be brutally fair.” Yvonne had switched to lecture mode, standing and walking briskly from side to side, occasionally gesturing with both arms to emphasize a point.

“Still, certain tools remain at our disposal. Inscriptions, for Journey and Master Tier practitioners, is the answer you seek. Straightforward in theory, but does take a little practice to get right.” Yvonne looked longingly at her experiments, and wavered.

“I noticed they are used in many of the devices around the town. Perhaps if I were properly trained in how to make or maintain them, I could relieve more of your burden. After all, you should be concentrating on tasks that are beyond my ability to do.” Phoenix gave her a little verbal push, not wanting to lose this chance.

“You are correct, of course, I should be concentrating on more meaningful work. Very well, I’ll call it an investment, a few hours now to save many more in the future!” Yvonne smiled, for all like it had been her idea in the first place.

On the outside, Phoenix humbly bowed his head and moved over to where Yvonne was so she could begin her lecture. On the inside, he was cheering. He very much needed more instruction, and if bending his fool neck to get it was what needed to happen, that was what he would do. Yvonne was true to her word, going over the strange mix of mundane and magical that was inscriptions. What Glyphs a particular sorcerer had unlocked determined the kinds of material they could use to inscribe. For Phoenix, this meant metals (for Earth, naturally), and leather (for Fire). Air was considered useless for inscriptions as it only provided access to things like incense smoke or carefully cultivated mist.

Once Yvonne had given him what she felt was sufficient instruction, she sent him off to purchase materials for him to practice on. This was a task he could wholeheartedly get behind, so he went to the merchants one again. This time, he was looking for necklaces, bracelets, anklets, rings, and various other kinds of jewelry that he could inscribe and then wear on his person. Oh and that fits in his budget.

The market was a bit subdued compared to his previous visits, but even still there were folks hawking wares and groups of women wandering stall to stall. That actually was the biggest change in the atmosphere, most everyone was traveling in groups now, which made him stand out slightly in the crowds for being solo.

Which probably explained how Lady Celeste managed to find him so quickly.

“Fena! How are you doing!” Celeste called to him from across the ring road around the temple, causing twenty or thirty pairs of eyes to all turn and stare at him. Eager to see the Paladin once more, he hurried across the street, but his footsteps slowed as he took in her appearance.

She was decked out in shiny golden plates of armor, a hauberk, greaves, vambraces, and helmet. Each was exquisitely made and nearly glowed in the late afternoon sunlight, looking more like crystals than items made of metal. Where the plate did not protect, thick leather did, but much of it had been damaged in some great fray- her pants was torn and bloodied, the sleeves on her arms showed great gashes in them, and while he was relatively certain not all the blood was hers, a disturbing amount of it had to be. Her movements did not look pained however, as she strode quickly over to him.

“Goddess… Lady Celeste, are you ok? What happened?” He managed, as she approached.

Celeste laughed, although it was a little strained. “Fine fine, things got a little exciting out there for a while. Here, let's get you into the temple where we can talk ok?” And with that, she took him by the elbow and directed him towards the temple doors, with a muttering curious crowd of onlookers watching the entire way. Phoenix was left with no choice but to be pulled along, that is unless he wanted to wrench his arm out of her grip. Which he wasn’t one hundred percent sure he could do, and even if he did what kind of impression would that give on all the onlookers?

Celeste dragged him back past the desk and into the interrogation rooms once more, and all the while Phoenix became more anxious.

“Care to explain what made you so upset? I promise you I have been good while you are gone, ask anyone.” He tried, feeling her out.

Celeste firmly sat him down in one of the chairs, and stood towering over him, biting her lip and fingering her sword. He hoped that was simply an unconscious gesture.

“You are a man.” Celeste said, a statement rather than a question.

“No, that’s ridiculous. What ever gave you such a foolish notion as that?” He tried.

“You are also a terrible liar. Witch Einar Tiana got back to us, and happened to drop that little tidbit on me.” Celeste clarified.

“For crying out loud… can no one keep a secret? I suppose this wasn’t too surprising.” Phoenix muttered to himself.

“Does anyone else know?” Celeste’s sharp look almost magically pulled an answer out of him. Maybe no ‘almost’ about it, the force of her will on him was quite pronounced.

“Acolyte Panna. Michael from Salties. Although Michael is currently missing and may be dead, given the events of yesterday.” Phoenix replied, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “What did you do to me!”

“Worshipers of Arachnae do not hold a monopoly on the Truth Glyph, I assure you. Paladins, in particular, serve Truth as much as we serve Life and Order. I do apologize, but I had to know who else. Panna I can talk to, and feel confident she will stay quiet. Michael I am not familiar with, would you care to fill me in?” Celeste finally allowed herself to relax slightly, unbuckling her sword and sitting in the chair across from him.

“Zie was… is a server at the tavern, Salties, down on Dock-way. Zie figured me out as a matter of professionalism, given what zie does for a living, and offered me some pointers on how to blend in better. I haven’t seen them for several days now, and when I went to look for them at their home, the place had been ransacked and a Myiktek ambushed me. I managed to destroy it, although it was a near thing, but no one has reported back to me about what has become of Michael since.” Phoenix summarized the last couple days for Celeste, trying not to nurse a grudge at being made to give up people's names like that.

Celeste looked pensive, setting her sword on the table. With a sigh, she made a gesture in front of herself, and her armor just… disappeared, fading from glowing crystalline beauty through dull lined metal and then into nothingness. She was left dressed in a jacket and pants, both badly damaged and worn from travel. Had she come directly to find him as soon as she reached the town?

“So, despite my best efforts I have been straight with you. Care to explain what is going on?” Phoenix said.

Celeste gave him a withering look, but nodded. “There is an army on the way here. More than one thousand, although I could not get a good look and barely got away with the look I did get. Mostly goblins, but several hundred orc nomad cavalry archers and, worst of all, a full coven of hags.”

Phoenix gaped at her. “What! What of Melite and the Fae?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t had contact with a Melite or any Fae, not for decades. I hope they are ok, a force of that size could overwhelm most of the small societies that make their living out here in the borderlands.” Celeste looked grim.

“Us included? Will it be a siege?” Phoenix asked.

“I like how you say ‘us’, that's reassuring.” Celeste laughed, brightening up a little. “And as to our ability to withstand an attack, well… we have the War Tower, we have the walls and the Shield. They have numbers on us, but for an assault they are worrisomely weak.”

“You think they have an ace up their sleeve.” Phoenix said, his mind racing. “Infiltrators? Someone who might even the odds, open the gates, or sabotage… the tower!”

Celeste made a shushing motion with her hands. “Easy there. First thing I checked was the tower, and everything seems in order. Your little fracas with the demon has got everyone on alert, which is wonderful, saves me some time. Really, all that was left for me to do was make sure you weren’t the saboteur.”

“Which, uh, you know now right? Tiana vouched for me! I killed that demon! And I would die before falling into the hands of the hags, you have to know that!” Phoenix said.

“The preponderance of evidence is on your side. Which is great, for you. A little bothersome for me however. Now I don’t have a suspect in what is going on.” Celeste smiled at him, trying to take the sting out of her suspicion.

“Sorry not sorry about disappointing you.” Phoenix said, causing Celeste to give him a confused look at the odd phrasing.

“That said, I don’t think it’s a good idea to have you just wandering the markets where any saboteur can take another shot at you. Better you stay in the temple where you will be safe… what?” Celeste said, watching as his expression darkened.

“I may not be the most subtle person around, but if you lock me away you are all but confirming to whoever is watching that they should be watching me even harder. Right now I am just a random stranger from the cold wilds, nobody of import. Anonymity is my shield, not the temple walls.” Phoenix argued.

“I am not so sure anonymity is yours to hold, shield or no shield. The gate guards regaled me with the story of your fight with the Myiktek. A whole squad of regulars can die from one of those things, yet here is this stranger no one seems to know taking one out solo. If I were a spy, I would suddenly be very interested in who this random stranger from the cold wilds actually was.” Celeste pointed out.

An unfortunately good point.

“Look, ok, how about this. Put me on a boat downriver. Not only does it get me out of your hair, it gets me out of danger. I need to make my way to the capital anyway, I’ve spent too much time here as it is…” Phoenix tried another tack.

“Ordinarily an excellent idea, but there are no boats available. And we aren’t expecting any for a few weeks, at best. Once harvest is over, they will swarm the docks and everyone will be busy loading but until then not much point being a boat way up here in the end of nowhere.”

“You can’t communicate with the capital?” Phoenix asked.

“To a limited degree. The War Tower guardian can connect to the capital, and I have already tried to report our situation. But the hags must be interfering somehow, as I got no immediate response. In a way, the siege has already started, even if their army is a few days away. Speaking of, I need to talk to the Captain and plan the defense. Please, do me a favor and don’t leave the temple for now. We can discuss this further later.” Celeste wearily picked up her sword from the table and left him to his own devices.

Phoenix smacked his thigh in frustration. This was going south very quickly. He thought for a few minutes, trying to decide on some course of action. He needed something to inscribe, and his shopping hadn’t come close to finding something appropriate. He decided that Panna was his last chance at anything resembling self-determination in the near future, so he made haste to the Acolyte’s quarters.

Several of the Acolytes were in residence when he arrived, and when he asked after Panna he was directed to a cell (calling it a bedroom was definitely a stretch). Politely, trying not to betray his haste, he knocked on the thin wooden door that provided limited privacy to the occupant. A few moments later, Panna opened the door, a look of surprise on her face as she saw him standing there.

“Acolyte Panna, I am so glad I caught you. I have a big favor to ask.” Phoenix started.

“Wait, Fena? What's got you so upset?” Panna was trying to maintain her cool, but he could see her looking around the Acolytes room at the other Acolytes with what was probably mild panic.

Now, to lie or to cleave close to the truth or to just beg. He didn’t really know the best route, but so far literally every attempt at lying he had made had gone poorly. Maybe try the truth this time, all other options had failed right? He gently pushed Panna into her cell and closed the door, lowering his voice as he did so.

“Hey, so I need something.” He started, but paused, seeing Panna’s expression. “You… ok?”

Her face had turned bright pink, a rather attractive shade on her pale features. “I can’t have a man in my room!” She said in a heated whisper.

“What? Are you kidding right now? No never mind, the faster I say this the faster I’ll be out of here.” Phoenix said, exasperated. “I need something to inscribe, so I can defend myself if something else comes after me. Has to be metal, and ideally something I can wear under my clothes. Do you think you could go to the market and get something like that for me?”

She was still looking at Phoenix as if she was going to spontaneously combust at any moment. Phoenix felt himself get embarrassed for her, in a strange way.

How awkward must this be, there isn’t one male anywhere in this whole town. Extinction, however, is low on my list of priorities right now, outside of personal extinction!

“Lady Celeste asked that I not leave the temple. I would like to obey her edicts for the time being. Can you help please?” Begging, probably, maybe would work.

“Yes.” Panna finally said, looking anywhere but at him. “But I can do better than buying something at the stalls out in the market. The temple stores certain items for, um, people like you. Follow me.”

Panna led him out of her cell and past the whispering stares of the other Acolytes. Phoenix was realizing at this point that, even if they assumed he was female, that he had maybe violated some taboos or otherwise done something rude, and was regretting putting Panna in that position. Regardless, she had regained some of her composure by the time they entered the hallway counterclockwise from the Acolyte living chambers.

He had a general sense of the temple as a big round pie with the tower taking up the very center of the structure. Then there were variously sized pie pieces cut into the pie, making the rooms that he had been walking through or interacting with all this time. The administrative entrance that Panna worked at made a cut directly east, exiting out to face Orchard-way. It was probably one eighth the entire circle. North of that was the interrogation rooms and some other kinds of miscellaneous storage, public bathrooms, things like that, a sliver comparatively. Proceeding counter clockwise still, there was the main worship area and the smaller alcoves off of it, one of which was the alcove with Arachnae’s altar in it. This was a good quarter of the entire pie and faced the road leading north- Forest-way. Past that was the Acolyte living space and the Priestesses and Paladins living quarters, another one eighth sliver.

Clockwise from the administration entrance was the guest barracks that he had been staying in. They and their associated bathrooms and so forth made up another one eighth cut. Then there was the heavily reinforced and guarded entrance to the War Tower. This too was a tiny sliver, much like the interrogation rooms, but it opened up to Dock-way and was important in its own right.

All of these were places that Phoenix had visited at one time or another. And all of the sizes were approximations that he made and relative to each other, not precise measurements. It still left approximately a quarter of the entire circle completely unknown to him. This is where Panna led him.

This quarter of the temple was empty of people, and from all appearances had been for some time. Dust lay in nooks and crannies, and none of the magical lights had been activated, something that Phoenix took care of as they went. Like the War Tower entrance next to it, the walls that made up the outer perimeter of this pie piece were thicker and built of magically reinforced stone, Glyphs prominent in their construction.

“Is this the vault?” He hazarded a guess.

“No.” Panna said, pensive. “This is where the men will live, if we ever get big enough and safe enough for men to live here.”

Phoenix was a bit dumbfounded by that. The only entrance was through the Acolyte chambers, which suggested that the priesthood and Paladins controlled who was allowed in to see the men. He had the eerie feeling that they also controlled if the men were allowed out as well.

This section of the temple was split into ten individual rooms, with en suite bathrooms, and a combined dining room, kitchen, and living room style open area in the center. There were no windows, either in the walls or the roof, a marked departure from the rest of the temple. Each of the rooms had its own bronze metal door, heavy and with locks on the inside. It looked like a prison, except everything was arranged such that a person could lock themselves in, rather than be locked in.

None of the rooms had furniture except the living area, which had a set of couches, chairs, and a table all stacked neatly up against one of the walls. Next to the entrance of the living area itself, a large wooden cabinet had been set, and this was where Panna finally stopped.

“The Academy artificers provide material to the men as needed, and back when this town was first founded there was a political push to bring men in early. It didn’t get past the priestesshood back in the capital, but it was far enough along that some of the supplies were sent ahead in anticipation. I guess politicking is still ongoing as it was never sent back either.” Panna sounded wistful and sad.

She put the palm of her hand on the wooden panel of the dresser, and then stepped back. The doors folded open, revealing four sections inside, each filled with identical sets of items.

The first item to catch his gaze was a metallic cloth outfit. Same golden threads that his cowl was made out of, this outfit only reached mid thigh, as well as about half way down the bicep of the wearer’s arms, but was snug up to the chin on the neck. It reminded him very strongly of the silken underwear that he had been given by Melite, except more robustly made.

The second was a kind of gold metal skeleton, very similar to the strange contraption that Yvonne wore around her back. It was obvious that the outfit was meant to be worn in tandem with the skeleton, which had clasps at the thighs, biceps, and throat where the outfit just ended.

The final item was a blue crystal slate, smaller than the ones he had seen before, which was held in a setting in the left ‘arm’ of the skeleton. The crystal was thicker and a darker blue, and gave the impression of being more robust than the thinner plates that he had been using.

Phoenix had many many questions at this point. He picked one at random. “Why isn’t everyone wearing this kind of thing?”

Panna shook her head. “This is military magic. Some of the Paladins use it, but not many, and none here in this town. Magus Yvonne uses a suit, I think she made it herself. Not even all the men back in the capital use it. It is the physical side of your sorcery, or so I understand.”

“So not everyone can use it? Or not everyone wants to?” He pressed.

“Yes and yes? I don’t know how it is with sorcery, but if you become too enmeshed with different traditions and methods, it can slow you down from Glyph Tier. That doesn’t matter much for the men, they get as much training and tutelage as they need, but for us mere mortals out here it can make all the difference.” Panna replied.

Just then, he felt a presence join them in the room. “This is Guardian. An alarm has been identified in the men’s quarter. Please identify.” It was the same voice that had responded when Yvonne had given him access permissions to the tower.

“Acolyte Panna, Guardian.” Panna said immediately, then looked at Phoenix expectantly.

“Oh, uh, Fena. Guardian.” He responded belatedly.

The presence lingered for a moment longer, then left. “What is Guardian anyway? Magus Yvonne has never bothered to explain.” Phoenix asked.

Panna thought for a moment, then shrugged. “They are a kind of spirit. Guardian’s are not like a nature spirit you go and find, or elementals that you summon. They are created by the Academy, and they draw their power from the community. They are the first line of defense for humanity. Otherwise, we would have a host of predatory spirits hunting us day and night seeking to possess us. Unless you keep a powerful spirit or two bound to yourself to protect you personally.”

“Like Witch Einar Tiana I guess.” Phoenix mused to himself.

“Witches are a bit different, given their fetches, but yes. You were in the wild right? How did you not get attacked constantly?” Panna asked.

“Oh, uh… I don’t know, actually. I have a kind of Spirit Ward that works reasonably well as a defense, and most of the time I was either running or under someone’s protection.” Something occurred to him then. “Melite must have been watching over me like this Guardian watches over you!”

That naturally pulled the story of Melite and the Fae out of him, as Panna inquired curiously and then raptly listened to the story. After finishing that, he pulled one set of items out of the wardrobe. Panna insisted he change in one of the rooms while she stood outside, then admired the results.

“The exoskeleton has all kinds of ways it can boost you, physically. I know it can project a kind of armor over you, and that it can store Magic Pool points to some limit. Some men are stronger or faster while wearing it as well. You should talk to Yvonne about it tomorrow.” Panna said, as they walked back to the main sections of the temple.

“Thank you Panna, I appreciate your help and your discretion. If you ever need anything just let me know ok? I would like to return the favor.” Phoenix offered.

Panna’s face flushed that pretty pink again, her pale skin unable to hide the color. “I think I should head to bed now.” She mumbled as they reached the Acolyte’s chambers.

“Good night!” Phoenix said, and returned to his barracks bed. It had been a long and tiring day, so he decided to swap his training period for a rest period, spending his handful of hours in a trance first to refresh himself and be ready for whatever would happen tomorrow.