Erick and Poi journeyed a short five kilometers, though streets filled with revelers and bright lights and drum beats, to a different part of Treehome where the architecture of the buildings did not resemble ‘silver spikes around a tree’, as was the land around the Holy O’kabil. Instead, this place was pure brutalist. Concrete-like stone slabs thirty meters tall. Walls that were devoted a hundred percent to function over form. Barely any windows anywhere, except for as thin lines here and there, filled with foot-thick glass. Balconies abounded at every elevation of this part of town; solid, thick grey slabs, that seemed to be more like staging areas to organize an army, than places to watch the sunset. The only thing allowed to be pretty seemed to be the tree at the center of it all, sitting on his vast array of blocky buildings, like some sort of dragon on a hoard; Firebrand.
The massive Arbor rose tall above it all as a gangly, yet solid, collection of vines in the shape of a tree, with glowing orange leaves that looked like they had just flaked off of burning hot iron. Firebrand was a thunderhead blotting out the sky, made of sparkling gold and burning red depending on how the wind rustled the leaves. This was his neighborhood, for sure, and it showed in the small corners of shaped stone, and along the edges of tall walls. Vines of the main tree were everywhere, but only if you looked for them. Once Erick noticed those vines, he couldn’t help but notice them hidden, and not-so-hidden, everywhere.
He also couldn’t help but notice the ‘city guard’ in this area, with their beaten-copper armors, glancing at him from the various corners of buildings, as he walked through the crowds, toward the restaurant called Overloot. The guards noticed him, but they didn’t bother him, so that was nice.
The manasphere filled with some sort of fiery Domain as he got closer to Firebrand himself. It seemed rather similar to the Domain around the Holy O’kabil, but with fire, instead of mist.
Erick had his own Domain active and tucked into his shoes, along with his [Greater Lightwalk]. His own Domain pushed back the fire in the air, but he didn’t press too hard, and Firebrand didn’t push back too hard, either. Being this close to another’s established domain was like putting his hand up against a soft wall that could turn hard at any moment, but which chose not to.
… Which was fine, but not very relaxing.
Would he ever be able to actually relax?
… Probably not.
- - - -
Overloot was a three-story cube on the south side of Firebrand, across a large courtyard from the local branch of the Adventurer’s Guildhouse. The Guildhouse was four times the size of Overloot, with people of every race on a dozen balconies, eating or drinking at any of a handful of restaurants or bars inside the Guildhouse, or warming themselves by any of a dozen large bonfires scattered across the cliff-like projections from that massive building. They were having a rowdy time over there, under Triumph lights, and beside the warm fires.
Overloot was a higher class place, but only because of the money involved.
Erick walked through the first floor, ‘the butchery’ according to the sign, and saw unicorn corpses being dismantled by expert, bloody butchers. That shimmering meat was slapped onto trays, bound for the restaurant on the top, alongside other monsters Erick had briefly heard about at one point in time or another.
Furnace turtles, each the size of a hippo, famed for their shells; currently being dismantled for giant soup pots.
Pale walkers, which were like spiders the size of horses, but also not like that at all. They probably tasted like crab.
Scarlet kings, which were like the flying fish of the Crystal Forest, but much more violent. Erick glanced at Poi, just in time to see the man close his almost-drooling mouth. Erick smiled. He would be sure to order some of that at some point in the evening, unless Syllea had plans already.
One odd item were the invisible shrooms, which Erick only saw by blinking on his mana sense. The guy was just slamming his cleaver onto nothing, until that moment, and then he was slamming his cleaver through dense white flesh, making mushroom steaks.
Continuing up to the second floor required invitation, or standing in a line and getting lucky. Erick walked to the front of the line, drawing envious looks from people who clearly had enough money to eat anywhere they wanted. With how nicely everyone was dressed, Erick was glad he picked his nicest clothes. He reached the front line and did not get a chance to speak before the bouncers noticed him, and recognition caused them to flinch. Ah. So much for anonymity. It was kinda nice walking through town with no one recognizing him.
A bouncer unlatched a thin rope that stretched from one side of the entrance to the other, as a man came down from the room beyond; the host, no doubt. He was certainly dressed the part, with sleek lines to his sleek almost-tuxedo.
“Welcome to Overloot.” The man backed away, saying, “Please follow me.”
Erick followed, glad that the man hadn’t openly called his name and spoiled what little normalcy there was about all of this. The people in the line were giving him looks, and that was kinda fun.
The dining room was not a dining room. The second floor was a large, nice bar area, with tables to stand at and music playing in the back and people enjoying many small foods and much larger drinks. Erick had felt a bit small, since many of the people around him were orcols, but some of the standing tables had platforms for the shorter people to stand upon.
The host brought Erick and Poi to one such table. Erick chuckled a little as he stepped onto the raised platform, and wondered if there were ‘high seats’ waiting in the proper restaurant, above.
The host looked scandalized as Erick giggled; maybe he thought something was wrong? He asked, “Is there something I can get you right away, sir?”
“I’d like some beer, but don’t mind me.” Erick said, “I’m just laughing at the logistics of orcol architecture. This is how your kind must feel back at my home. I might need to adjust a few things when I get back to make everyone more comfortable, for sure.”
The man lost his worried look. With a gentle smile, he said, “It’s sometimes hard to account for everyone, but we try. Thank you for noticing.”
A waitress came by. The host left. Everything proceeded exactly like a normal restaurant, and that made Erick inexplicably happy, for some strange reason. He certainly couldn’t do this back home; not without drawing a crowd.
It wasn’t till the waitress brought around Erick and Poi’s drinks, that Syllea and Bayth walked into the room. Erick noticed them before they noticed him, for that was easy enough to do when the entire room’s energy whipped toward the front entrance, and people suddenly stopped talking.
Bayth appeared first, looking as muscular and as strong as ever. She moved into the room like a solid wall of power, and then stepped aside.
Syllea wore a dress made of crystal and cloth that barely held her ample chest inside. Her blond hair cascaded. Her eyes were bright, and beautiful. She locked her sight with Erick from across the room, then smiled wide, and happily said, “Archmage, Particle Mage, Erick Flatt! Destroyer of Shades! Liberator of Ar’Kendrithyst! Welcome to Treehome!” Into the muttering silence that followed, and as several pairs of eyes turned Erick’s way, Syllea said, “This year’s Triumph of Light is the most aptly named Triumph of them all, so let’s drink to the future, and to all that comes next! I’m buying out Overloot for the night, so drink up, everyone!”
At that, there was no muttering, or murmuring. There was only cheering that rocked the building in its ferocity, and the sounds of bottles popping, and the doors to the kitchen thrown wide, as trays upon trays of meats and otherwise came out into the room, seemingly right on cue, and all eyes turned toward Erick, as Syllea walked up to him.
Erick smirked, saying, “I was beginning to enjoy the anonymity.”
“Ha! No more of that, now! Besides, with me here, it’ll be five Script Seconds before someone realizes who you are. Might as well pull that leech off when you see it.” With a gleam in her eyes, Syllea took her place on the other side of the standing table, saying, “Rejoice in your accomplishments, Erick. You’ve earned them.”
The host suddenly and silently appeared with a bucket of ice containing four bottles of wine. He popped one, and began setting drinks out for Erick, Syllea, Poi, and Bayth.
Accepting his drink with a smile, Erick said, “Thank you.”
Holding her own drink, Syllea said, “Could have done without the rain, though.”
“I was asked to do that.” Erick said, “Besides! It’s just a light misting.”
As if cued into his words, the sky outside crackled with faint lightning and a rain began, though it was barely seen through the thin windows with their thick glass, or heard through the density of the walls. Hard to hear over the party, too.
He sipped his wine. He smiled.
It tasted good.
The night wore on, wonderfully, tastefully, and in great quantities, too.
Contrary to Erick’s expectations, there was no talk of politics. There were no veiled conversations, between him and Syllea or anyone else that came over to their little part of Overloot and who wanted to talk. There was only a nice time, from talking about the dishes that the waitress paraded out for Syllea and Erick’s approval, to discussing the histories of Treehome and the surrounding areas.
- - - -
On the third floor of Overloot, over small sample dishes of cakes and dessert wines and in a corner of the building slightly away from the main party happening everywhere else in the building, midnight came and went. The night had turned away from the sudden party of before, becoming something more intimate. While Poi and Bayth stood to the respective sides of the sit-down table, and almost no one felt like approaching the archmages’ VIP area, the conversation turned to trade.
Syllea lifted her half-drained drink, which was a fruity red thing this time, and said, “Alcohol is a good trade. Blueweed is fine, too, if you plan to get into adventuring business. Ain’t much call for those medicinal herbs outside of easing hard memories.”
Erick stared at Syllea like she had spouted off some fundamental truth. “Blueweed is good for that? Holy shit! I should have planted a square kilometer of that stuff, then!”
Syllea laughed. “It’s a short term solution to the hard memories.” She asked, “Do you want some?” She decided, “We can get some. I’m gonna get you some. Ah! I have some. Here—” The archmage waved her hand and Spatial Magics suddenly dropped a small wooden box upon the table. She lifted the lid, showing strips of blue grass on one side, next to what had to be a grinder. “Non habit-forming, relaxing blueweed. Perfect for those difficult nights.”
Erick watched, ready to try anything, because sure? Why not?
But Syllea touched the grasses, and frowned. “Er. It’s all dried up. Ah. I didn’t think it had been that long since I did this. Ah. This won’t do.” She waved a hand, and the box vanished. “Let’s go get some fresh stuff.”
Bayth asked, “Are we done here, then?”
“I think so.” Syllea asked, “Unless you’re still hungry, Erick?”
“Oh. No. I am stuffed! This place is wonderful.” Erick asked, “Are you good, Poi?”
“That Scarlet King was great. I’m good.”
“Then!” Erick said, “This has been absolutely wonderful, but I’m ready for a walk and some illicit drugs.”
“Now now.” Syllea smirked. “Blueweed is perfectly legal. It’s those variants you have to watch out for.” She stood, wobbled a bit, then righted, saying, “I’m gonna settle the bill, then we can go.” She whispered, but not really, “How much do you think it is? I think I’m gonna need to take up some contracts after tonight.”
Erick smiled, mocking, “You poor, poor archmage. Whatever will you do for funds.”
Syllea snickered.
Within minutes, there was an uproar of disappointment from the patrons over Syllea’s and Erick’s departure, a quiet joy from the people in the kitchen finally being allowed to shut down the kitchen, a disappointment (that was really relief) from the host that perhaps he had not done enough for her, and then Erick and Syllea were back on the brightly lit streets of Treehome, and walking west.
- - - -
Outside of a small shop tucked away in a quiet, high-class part of town where the architecture was wood and stone and pretty to look at, where the rain drizzled all around them, but not on them, and Triumph lights painted the night in red, white, gold, and green, Erick sat upon a bench next to Syllea. They had already been inside the shop and procured the goods. A few other patrons sat in pairs or trios, on other benches, passing between themselves handmade, burning cigarettes.
Syllea held up one of the dozen cigarettes Erick had bought. She lit the end, sucking on the other to draw the flame into the contents. After having the first draw, she passed it to Erick.
He took it, and smiled, saying, “I haven’t done this since before I had Jane.” And then he took a drag.
He coughed, handing off the blunt as he did so.
Syllea smiled. “It’s not the strong stuff.” She took an easy, long drag, then spoke with smoke in her voice, “It shouldn’t do much more than ease the tension in your shoulders.” She passed it back to Erick. “And you came from another world! How did you get blueweed?”
“Ah. Well.” Erick said, “I guess it wasn’t blueweed. At all. Similar drugs, though. Or maybe not?”
He tried taking another drag. This time, it was easier. The effect was almost immediate. It began as a warmth in his back, then spread out to the rest of him. Like dipping into a hot bath. It felt good.
“So what are your plans now?” Syllea asked, as Erick handed her back the blunt.
“Three things are at the top of my list. The first one is to help clear out that Converter Angel.” He would have said more, but then—
Syllea frowned. “That’s a big task.” She took a long drag.
“Yeah. Fortunately, I know what the Converted look like. It’s easy to spot once you know what to look for.” Syllea’s eyes went a bit concerned, but before she could ask, Erick said, “I haven’t seen any in Treehome, yet. Mostly, I’m just waiting for the current holder of the Black Star to spearhead that problem. It doesn’t feel right stepping on the toes of the incani people. I was contracted to help with the Breach Demon, after all.” He tapped the crystal star on his chest, saying, “And you gotta be impartial in this Quiet War business… I guess. Or at least you gotta be fair.”
Syllea gained a measure of composure as Erick said there were no Converted nearby. But she was still worried about that. She asked, “How can you tell if you have a Converted?”
“Here. Let me…” Erick sent her a telepathic package of what he had seen down in the dungeons of the Wasteland. “Like that.”
Syllea went silent for a moment. She handed Erick back the blunt, as she thought.
Erick took a drag, then took another.
Syllea sprouted a few tendrils of telepathic thought; she was obviously talking to someone, and she said as much as she mumbled, “Sorry. That was an unexpected turn of events. I have to shove off some thoughts to others.” She added, “I’m gonna need to teach you how to get [True Sight].”
“I’m not in any rush, but yeah; I’d like to learn [True Sight]. I will take that offer.” Erick glanced around the small area, at the other occupants who were doing a terrible job of not staring directly at Erick, or Syllea. “But we could probably move to a more private area. We can talk about some denser topics, too, if you wish.”
“Yeah… Let’s do that.” Syllea asked, “You two want to come to my place?” She glanced to Bayth, saying, “I think Bayth is all tuckered out, anyway.”
Bayth rolled her eyes.
“I would like that.” Erick looked to Poi, asking, “Sure?”
Poi nodded.
Erick repeated, “Sure.”
Syllea let loose with a few other tendrils of intent, touching each of them, as she said, “Here we go—”
- - - -
The world resolved into a space of warmth and clean smells, with Erick at the center of a living room he had never seen before. Blanket and fur-covered couches arced around a fireplace without a fire, where the floors and walls were made of dark wood, and the ceiling was a skylight where rain drew rivulets across the glass. Beyond the roof, clouds swirled around a tall, dark Arbor, high above, only visible in the night because of countless bright orbs, like stars, scattered among his lofty boughs. All around Erick, Syllea, Bayth, and Poi, hovered a thin, star-filled brightness in the mana of the air; the Domain of the Arbor above.
Erick stared through the skylight, asking, “That’s Wyrmrest, right?”
“Yup! The original, and the largest!” Syllea stepped around the couch, headed towards a kitchen area. “You want more ale?”
He dropped his gaze to his host. “I’m ready to switch to water, actually. Or tea, if you have it.”
Syllea said, “I can do tea.”
Bayth said, “I’m going to head to the other room.”
“You don’t want to stay?” Syllea asked.
Bayth waved her off, and walked away. Poi bowed, then stepped away, following Bayth down a hallway into another part of the house.
Syllea grinned at Erick. “Just you and me, then. Pardon me if I do this the easy way.” With a pulse of intent, she flowed invisible control into the kitchen, pulling out a teapot, mugs, and a few small clay pots. She drew a globe of water from the faucet. With expert control, she joined the items together and heated where necessary. In three moments, she walked back to the couch area, her collection of items floating before her, steaming, as she gestured to a couch, teasing, “You can sit, you know.”
“I was just watching.” Erick sat down upon a fur, atop a comfortable couch, adding, “I couldn’t quite tell what spell that was. But I’m guessing it was just a [Telekinesis] aura?”
Syllea sat down on a couch beside Erick as the tea floated down onto the table between them. “Correct.” The tea steamed, as it steeped. “This Converted problem. How long has the Angel been active? Have they made any aggressive moves aside from the people you showed me?”
Erick glanced at the cigarettes they had bought, sitting on the table. Then he ignored them. “I’m not sure. I haven’t gone too deep into any of that. I have yet to go to Koyabez or— Did you hear about Shadow’s Feast? The full story? I told the Holy O’kabil earlier, and she seemed to imply that she would be telling others.”
“I've heard the story from many angles. I heard it from Wyrmrest, though. I know about Caizoa and the Black Star.” She said, “Asking Koyabez for guidance might be a good place to start, if you want to go down the path of full confrontation. But Converter Angels aren’t as completely violent as Breach Demons, as long as you aren’t their enemy. If you were, then you’d have been the target of assassinations well before now.” She said, “That’s how it usually goes.”
“I’m pretty sure I am their enemy.”
“If you were, they would have come after you by now.”
“Ah. There are many reasons why I believe I haven’t been attacked yet.” Erick smirked, then said, “Its minions are rather hard to miss, once you know what you’re looking for. Once I broke the Feast Barrier, it started moving all of its forces the world over. And then there’s this Silver Star on my chest; it’s a great way to fight against the thing if it should show.
“Taking all of that into account, and the fact that I’m already honor-bound to kill it should it show, I think it’s staying away from me if it can.” He said, “And I’m staying away from it, too, just because I’m not ready to start that war yet. There’s no way there wouldn’t be collateral damage. Maybe it knows this? It’s like how you said: Converter Angels aren’t as ‘raze the countryside’ as Breach Demons. More subterfuge and assassinations than overt war.”
Syllea glanced at the crystal star, saying, “So it’s true. That’s a Greater Artifact of Koyabez. You used that against the remaining Shades. Cursed them into mediocrity.”
“Well… I wouldn’t put it like that.” Erick scrunched his face a little, then said, “Cost me one of my spells to make, but I think it was a good trade off. There’s no way that Melemizargo isn’t going to remake his Clergy at some point in time, so if those Shades form a better base than what came before, then that’s good, right?”
Syllea didn’t look convinced, but she said nothing. She just thought for a moment. Then she poured tea. One for her, and one for Erick. She asked, “Sugar?”
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“Sure.”
Two sugar crystals went into Erick’s cup, then Syllea handed it to him. She did the same for her own tea, and took a sip. Erick sipped his, waiting for her to say something else.
Eventually, Syllea said, “I don’t know what’s going to happen, now that Ar’Kendrithyst has been purged. No one does. But the Cult has suddenly become active in Treehome.”
Erick recalled that Syllea’s brother was a member of Melemizargo’s Cult. He almost said something about that, but he chose not to. Instead, he asked, “Anything I should be aware of?”
“Probably.” Syllea frowned at nothing in particular. “They’re putting fliers on walls and openly recruiting. It’s… We’ve had three raids in the last three days. The Arbors are all agitated. Everyone is worried. I’m worried.” She went silent. After a moment, she said, “If the problem isn’t at my door, I’m not willing to get involved in the Quiet War.”
“I hope your troubles clear up soon.”
“Heh.” Syllea said, “You too.”
Erick changed the subject, asking, “Ever heard of the Worldly Path?”
Syllea blinked, startled for a moment, then laughed. “You’re going to do that? Now?”
“I’ve already started,” Erick said, not quite understanding the stress in Syllea’s voice. “Treehome was my first stop. I’ve got a few others lined up, but nothing too solid.”
Without sarcasm, Syllea said, “Good luck with that. I tried to walk the Worldly Path a decade ago.”
“You did?” Erick asked, amazed. He did not expect that when he brought up the topic, but in retrospect, it made perfect sense that another archmage already knew of the Worldly Path, and had tried to walk it.
Syllea asked, “What’s your overarching goal? Do you have one, yet?” With a bit more serious of a tone, she asked, “Is it to kill the Angel?”
“No. The Angel is just a part of it all. Probably, anyway. I’m not sure.” Erick said, “I don’t have a goal except to see the world. I’ll probably get a goal soon enough, somewhere down the path.”
She nodded. “That’s probably the best way to do it.”
“I take it you had a goal?”
“One that ended in failure.” Syllea glanced to the empty fireplace, saying, “I’m going to start the fire.” She pulled at her dress as she got up, adding, “And I’m going to change into something more comfortable.” She waved her hand at the fireplace, conjuring a flame upon the logs already there, as she walked away, saying, “Be right back.”
Erick refilled his tea while he waited, and wondered, his mind going to some rather interesting places as heat began to replace the chilly air of Syllea’s home. Not a minute later, Syllea reappeared wearing what might have been a sweater and sweatpants, both grey, with her long blond hair pulled into a pony-tail and her jewelry gone. All sexy thoughts happily vanished from Erick’s mind, as Syllea retook her spot on her couch, and started speaking.
She said, “The Worldly Path was something I tried much too soon in life. I had a goal before I set out, to gather every Elemental Body, to transform all of them into their Greater variants, and then to make a [Greater Prismatic Body]. There were a hundred other smaller goals, too, for this was back when I was still making new magic every other day, and a keeper at least once a week. But those smaller goals didn’t really matter. It was the larger ones that fucked over everything.
“The problem was [Shadowalk]. I left that one for last. That was my downfall, for the Worldly Path gets harder the further you go.
“I couldn’t get into Ar’Kendrithyst; that was out of the question. By the time I tried the Path, I was already at tier 7 spellwork, and I wasn’t willing to have my final test come at the hands of the Shades. So I tried for the Shadow Canyons of Nergal. I think I told you about them once before?”
“You did.” Erick recalled that conversation, then said, “You also spoke of the Fractured Citadels. You told me about how some of your people were soul-attacked.”
“Yup.” Syllea said, “That’s what ended the Path for me. I had a choice, near the end, of either going alone into the Darkness or pulling back, to keep my friends and family alive. They weren’t about to let me go alone, much to my anger, and I couldn’t… There were a lot of dangerous arguments there, right before the end. I cut my Path short. I ended it, rather than see people I love get hurt.” She offhandedly said, “I gained [Shadowalk] a year later after hiring people to gather shadow essence and craft a masterwork full-body armor. Had to do that twice, actually. I was so damned mad.” She chuckled. “I laugh about it now, but back then... That was maddening. Getting [Greater Shadowalk] was easy, comparatively, but by then The Worldly Path had already vanished for me.”
“Why not eat the shadow monsters for the Elemental Bodies?”
“I did. Mostly. But...” Syllea said, “You have to understand: The Worldly Path is a ritual of Fate and Space; a confluence of Elements that ensures that the Path gets harder and harder as you walk those steps. I wasn’t facing shadowolves by the end, Erick. If only I had been so lucky! But every shadowolf was gone. All that were left were Tyrant Whispers and Fallen Avatars; monsters that were more Ethereal Blood or Vile Darkness, than Shadow.”
Erick somehow felt the shadows of the room draw closer, but when he looked, they had not moved at all.
Syllea kept her eyes on Erick, saying, “I saw them move too, but that’s to be expected.”
“… Melemizargo is always nearby.”
Syllea snorted. “Yeah. But that’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
Syllea said, “Even now, you are on the path.” She sighed. “I should have known. The first time you came out of Spur to see the world, and it’s on the Worldly Path. Now I’m swept up in it, too.”
Erick almost panicked. “Did I do something to you?”
“Yes, but no. Don’t worry about me, especially since you’re this close to the start of your journey.” Syllea dispelled none of Erick’s worry by saying, “I met my own mentor when I started the Path. It’s a grand ritual, after all. Part of that ritual is the initial guidance. My own mentor told me some things, and hinted at others, but the Path I walked was my own, as your Path will be for you. If this ends well for you, one day, you might find yourself suddenly mentoring someone else who has chosen to walk the Worldly Path.” Syllea asked, “I know you said you have no plan, but do you have any idea at all about what your Path is about?”
Erick hung his head for a moment. Of course the Worldly Path wasn’t just a simple trip around the world, hitting the highlights and seeing the big sights the world over. Of course it was a ritual. Now that Syllea had said it, that made perfect sense.
Erick asked, “How much of the ritual is under Melemizargo’s control?”
“I’ve heard it’s just the bit at the end. The part after you succeed. A closing statement, if you will.”
Erick took a moment to digest all of that, then, knowing he was part of a ritual, no matter how weak that ritual was right now, he said, “My plan is to see where the wind takes me. To see the Core, and a few other places. To see what Veird is like, the world and Underworld over. I’m also looking into trade routes for Candlepoint; to search out products for them to make without making targets of themselves. I’m also raising Yggdrasil. To do all this and not get bogged down by everyone who knows me, or knows what I can do, I’m brainstorming magic that makes me more anonymous, or that lets me fight without giving away my identity to onlookers. I’m also looking for a way to subjugate a target without actually killing them. There’s also this Quest Board Class Ability that I just got. I’m going to use that to clip out some of the larger dangers the world over and get rewards for them, while I can.” Erick said, “But as for actual plans? Nothing too concrete— OH. And then there’s the previous [Gate] network, out there in the Forest. I was gonna go after that somewhere in my various travels. Sooner, rather than later… And of course… I have to kill the Converter Angel.”
Syllea smiled softly as Erick spoke. When he was done, she said, “You should stay in Treehome for a little while. I can help you with much of the magic you’re looking for, and the Arbors are eager to speak to Yggdrasil, and you.” She chided, “I’ve been waiting all night for you to tell me that you made a fricken WORLD TREE!” She laughed.
“Ah.” Erick frowned a little.
Syllea asked, “Ah?”
“I hope I live to see him become a real being.”
Syllea rolled her eyes, not believing Erick’s sudden confession. “You’ll be fine! Probably. About as much as any of us, I’m sure.”
“It won’t be four months till he’s real.” Erick said, “It’ll be a hundred years. He has a seal on him.”
Syllea sat a bit straighter. “Oh.”
The fire crackled, sending a spray of sparks up the chimney.
“That’s probably fine, then?” Syllea said, “I have no idea.”
Erick shrugged.
She said, “Anyway: The Arbors have told me that they want to make sure you raise him right. They expected several months of intense work, but now… Now they have time? Sure. They have time. You have time. And in your immediate time, I’m going to help you make some magic that subdues, rather than harms. What you’re looking for is Elemental Mercy.” She added, “We can go out into the Forest and search out some of those [Gate]s, too. I may not be able to cast the spell myself, but I’d like to be involved in remaking the [Gate] network.”
Erick grinned. “Of course! That sounds like a great plan, to me.” He stood up, saying, “But I should get going. See you tomorrow?”
“Wait wait wait. Before you go… I would like to talk about your Quest Board.”
Erick glanced to the hallway where Poi had gone, and saw Poi standing there, waiting. He turned back to Syllea, asking, “What about it?”
“Head Priests of the Interfaith Church usually get an Interfaith Quest Board, full of needs populated by the Relevant Entities of the Script, but those who have personal Quest Boards always have the truly dangerous Quests, the ones that the Entities reserve for those specific people with that Class Ability.” Syllea said, “You might want to think twice about accepting any Quests while you’re on your Worldly Path, or while that Angel still roams the world. Fate, Space, and Ritual will contort reality around you. Some things that should not happen, will happen. Impossibilities become sure-things.”
“Ah. Yeah. I sorta figured it would be like that… But thanks for the warning.”
With a bit of magic, Syllea picked up the cigarettes they had bought and floated them toward Erick. “Don’t forget these. Take a break while you can.”
Erick smirked as he took the drugs. “Thanks, Syllea. I had a great time tonight. Thanks for the invite.”
“Thanks for coming, both to dinner, and to Treehome. We’ll do it again sometime, and also talk more tomorrow. Okay?”
“Okay.” Erick reached a tendril of light toward Poi, who accepted the touch on his shoulder. He said to Syllea, “See you later,” and vanished in a puff of light.
- - - -
“A hundred years?” Syllea looked up, through the skylight, at Wyrmrest. “Did you know that?”
‘We will not let Sininindi raise a World Tree.’ Wyrmrest said, ‘We will just have to break Yggdrasil’s seal.’
Syllea refilled her cup of tea, and thought.
- - - -
Erick and Poi reappeared in the living room of their hotel room, under the boughs of the Holy O’kabil.
Poi stepped away, headed toward his room, before suddenly turning around, and asking, “Good night, sir?”
Erick smirked. “Yeah. I guess I should just go back to bed.”
“Oh thank the gods. I was worried for a moment. Please don’t leave the suite without me, sir.” With a slight sarcasm in his voice, Poi said, “Let’s change our fate tomorrow, please.”
Jane stepped out of her room, rubbing her eyes. “You’re back. How’d it go?”
“It was great! You should have been there! Lots of strange foods.”
Jane winced. “You’re too awake for this late at night.” She said, “Glad you made it back. I’m back to bed.”
Erick watched her go, then he watched the door shut. Then he was alone.
But… Not really.
The manasphere was dense with his own [Prismatic Ward], but it was also thick with mist. And that was worrying. He had never considered that someone might lay down a Domain that allowed them to freely enter his [Prismatic Ward]. But then again, there was that artifact in Quilatalap’s presentation, the Amulet of Non-Presence, that allowed a person to walk through all magical defenses as though they weren’t even there. Had the Holy O’kabil done something like that? Despite her apparently physical form when she entered his [Prismatic Ward] without permission, she was just a soul and the shape of a body, wasn’t she? There was no blood in that form. There was no actual physicality. Erick had checked with a few different sights through his few nearby Ophiel.
But he could have been wrong.
… Even if she wasn’t totally real, she should have been blocked, right?
Ah. Her Domain was here first.
Ophiel twittered on Erick’s shoulder, and also on the top of a nearby chair. Only two of him were following Erick around right now. The rest were on never-ending patrol over Candlepoint, or at his home, prepared for a sudden explosion of monsters from Ar’Kendrithyst’s dying corpse.
And that was fine. If needed, they could all be here in under ten seconds.
Erick patted the little guy on his shoulder, eliciting a violin coo.
Then he looked to the blunts he had set down on the table. He grabbed two, then looked around for a moment, trying to find— Ah! There it was. Right where it had been the last time Erick had seen it. A balcony, just beyond some doors near the kitchen. He forgave himself for losing track of it; he had cast Ophiel’s [Prismatic Ward] out there, after all. Whatever. He was still slightly drunk, and looking to get a bit more wasted.
Erick lightstepped onto the porch. Ophiel followed.
A slight wind blew from the northeast; chilly, but easily withstood since the rain seemed to be over. Erick lit a cigarette, took an easy drag, and relished the feeling of warmth spreading across his shoulders and through his body, as he gazed out upon the early morning lights of Treehome. The land near the Holy O’kabil truly did resemble silver spikes of crystal. It reminded Erick a little bit of the Brightwater, but much more metallic, so maybe not like the Brightwater at all. Here, there were normal people, going about their lives, doing what they need to do to survive. But in that dark, bright place, there was only death, and the evil of a terrible, pitiable society, doing what they could do to tear everything down, because their parents, grandparents, uncles, and aunts, all did the same.
And then there were the Shades that Erick had let go!
Argh!
He pulled up a few Quests, just to stare at them again.
Find or Kill Queen, Shade of Opulence.
Find: 0/1
Kill: 0/1
Reward: 10 points
Note: Half reward for a location that leads to a kill.
Posters: Rozeta, Goddess of the Script; Headmaster Kirginatharp; Demon King Dinnamoth; 15 lesser posters.
Find or Kill Treant, Shade of the Forest.
Find: 0/1
Kill: 0/1
Reward: 10 points
Note: Half reward for a location that leads to a kill.
Posters: Rozeta, Goddess of the Script; Aloethag, Goddess of Beauty and Brutality; Fangorl, God of the Wild; 27 lesser posters.
Find or Kill Lapis, Shade of Enchantment.
Find: 0/1
Kill: 0/1
Reward: 10 points
Note: Half reward for a location that leads to a kill.
Posters: Rozeta, Goddess of the Script; Headmaster Kirginatharp; Kiral, God of Commerce; Crown of the Host Adavido; 7 lesser posters.
Erick flipped through the rest of them; all of the Shades he had spared were on the list, each of them hunted by dozens of individual Entities of the Script. He stopped flipping when he came to Fallopolis.
Find or Kill Fallopolis, Shade of Melemizargo.
Find: 0/1
Kill: 0/1
Reward: 10 points
Note: Half reward for a location that leads to a kill.
Posters: Rozeta, Goddess of the Script; Crown of the Host Adavido; Demon King Dinnamoth, 107 lesser posters.
“Haaaa,” Erick groaned. “The only one that both the Angels and the Demons both agree needs to die.” He took another drag of the cigarette, then mumbled, “One hundred and ten Entities of the Script want to kill the only one I didn’t personally Bless into being a better person.”
Shit. I think I fucked up.
Erick finished off the first cigarette, trying to think about nothing in particular, while blue screens hovered around him and he felt both warm, and utterly cold at the same time. He lit up the next blueweed blunt, and continued to poke through other screens of the Quest Board, trying to get a feel for it.
The Quest Board was a rather intuitive system. There were search functions, but they were not as good as other search functions Erick had used in his previous life on Earth. The Quest Board seemed to share the Script’s overall poorly implemented ‘Help’ function, that Erick barely ever used, anyway.
In the Open Script, if you didn’t know the Basic Spell or Skill that you were searching for, then you couldn’t search for it, and thus you couldn’t purchase it for a point. In the Quest Board, you could search by region, poster, reward, or target, but all you got were lists and vague descriptions and no maps. He also had to think at the Script to get it to work, and that was a bit wonky. It might have been better than a keyboard, but maybe not? Erick tried to think/demand for a keyboard, but that functionality was missing. The lack of maps was a pain in the ass, too. No matter how much he reorganized his searches, he gained no map. It was only halfway through his second blunt that he wondered why he wanted a map, anyway. He had a map. [Cascade Imaging] worked fine for his mapping needs.
All the Quests he saw were for some target, somewhere in the world…
Ah. No. That wasn’t true.
Erick glanced up at the artery-like boughs of the Holy O’kabil and her expansive, dark canopy, more than half a kilometer above him. He returned to the Quest in front of him. It wasn’t a kill quest, and that was nice to see.
Expand Treehome.
Establish a new and welcomed Arbor into the land of Treehome. 0/1
Reward: 5 points, along with unknowable amounts of prestige and political power in Treehome.
Note: This is a Special Quest, with many failing factors, most of which arise organically in the pursuit of this goal. The Posters of this Quest reserve the right to destroy a bad Arbor without warning.
Lesser Posters: The Arbors of Treehome; Wyrmrest, O’kabil, Firebrand, Icebrand, Rottundra, Heral-ken, Home, Nosier, Leaf-cutter, Redarrow, Steel Branch, Ikabobbi. The collective tribes of Treehome.
That all read rather well; even that warning. Did this mean that they were willing to help him raise an Arbor? Could they help raise Yggdrasil?
Erick thought to all he had seen on his first day in Treehome.
Treehome was a nice place. The people were happy. They worked hard, and they played hard. There was good food, and good opportunity either in pushing back the Forest, or getting a merchant job in the city itself, or some other job. Waiters made good money. Butchers made good money. There were no homeless on the streets, which was either fantastic, or horrific, but right now, Erick was leaning toward the first scenario.
With his Ophiels sometimes flying above while he walked below, Erick had seen farms and such all over the place, beyond the larger buildings that surrounded and demarcated each Arbor’s territory. Erick could have been a farmer here, easily. If he had been born an orcol on Veird, he would have been lucky to have been born into one of the collective Wyrmrest tribes. He would have been lucky to live in Treehome.
… But he wasn’t ready to commit to this ‘Expand Treehome’ Quest.
And yet…
Erick spoke to the mist in the mana all around him, “Is it actually ‘Holy’ O’kabil? Or is that an affectation?”
From one blink to the next, O’kabil appeared on the balcony just two meters from Erick, wearing the same fur coat as before. She eyed Erick, then turned toward the north, saying, “It’s not often someone is willing to risk my ire by asking such a cheeky question.”
“Apologies for the terrible question.” He held out the remaining half of the blunt he had been smoking. “Care for a drag?”
“No.”
Erick nodded, then took another drag of the blueweed. O’Kabil stood at the edge of the balcony, not moving, and not speaking. Erick didn’t interrupt her thoughts with any more words.
She said, “I’ve reviewed your trip into Ar’Kendrithyst. You failed to put down the monsters. You let Treant live. You enabled his survival. He’s at our borders right now, pleading for understanding.”
Erick’s eyes went wide. He coughed a little, but regained himself quick enough. He waited for her to say more.
Eventually, O’kabil continued, “He’s been there for two days, now. It sickens me. And yet… And yet, I cannot put too much effort into killing that ooze, myself. Much like how you used the Shades to kill the Shades, we are using him to clear out the larger dangers out there. He thinks he will attain forgiveness for this.” She went silent.
Erick breathed out blue smoke that carried away on the air.
O’kabil held out her hand toward Erick; her thumb and forefinger waited for him to place something there. He handed her the remains of his blunt. It was almost gone. He’d need to get another one. So he did; grabbing one off of the table inside with a quick tendril of light. O’kabil, meanwhile, put Erick’s blunt to her lips and breathed in for twenty seconds, fully burning and inhaling all that was left of his second blunt. Erick lit a third, puffed on it a bit to get it started, then handed it to O’kabil, for she had her hand held out again, waiting for a refill.
She inhaled again, fully burning the third to nothing but ash over the course of forty seconds. She opened her mouth, and breathed out a small cloudbank. Blue fog swirled up and around the outside of the penthouse suite. Erick briefly considered getting a fourth blunt, but the three-meter tall orcol representation of the kilometer-tall tree above did not seem to want another, and Erick was done, anyway.
O’kabil said, “Treant will never attain forgiveness for his crimes.”
“What were they? His crimes, I mean.”
“He tried to raze us to the ground five times in the last two hundred years. Over those campaigns, he has killed at least one hundred thousand people.” She looked to Erick, then looked away, saying, “It is frustrating that you forgave him—”
With a hard voice, Erick said, “I have done no such thing.”
O’kabil went still.
Erick said, “I can never forgive him for his crimes. Only you or anyone else he has wronged will ever be able to forgive him. All I did was force him to feel the pain he has inflicted upon others.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
O’kabil stared out toward the north. “A better wording than my own.” She said, “It is for this reason that I cannot kill him. He suffers more as a living Shade than he would as a dead one. Every time he goes out and kills another wyrm nest, or a Twisted Vision of the Forest, or any of the other greater threats to our people… Every time he comes back, he shows us what he has done. He pleads for forgiveness.” For the first time since Erick met her, O’kabil smiled. It was not a nice look. “I like it when he pleads, and even more when I deny him and he turns into a puddle of a man, weeping like a broken child. He deserves this, and so much more.” She banished the smile from her face. “But I would like it more if he were not here. I do not like this part of me that revels in his pain.” She turned and stared at Erick. “I would have liked to know that he was dead. I would have preferred him in the ground, or turned to ash, or any other number of deaths.” She asked, “Are you more vicious than I am? Or are you weak, and unable to kill who needs to be killed? Or perhaps, do you truly think that no Evil is beyond redemption? That this pain you have inflicted upon a terrible enemy is somehow going to end in something other than tragedy? That perhaps, this will end in something good for us all?”
“He will suffer in his own way for what he has done, and if one day, his charitable deeds outweigh his horrors, then that will be good. But it's not up to me if it will be enough.” Erick asked, "Would you prefer to have no recompense?"
O’kabil looked away.
Then she vanished, from one blink to the next, and Erick was left out in the chilly wind. He glanced up, beyond the boughs of the Arbor above. Clouds gathered, in the normal ways that clouds did sometimes, but no doubt spurred on by Erick’s control of the weather, earlier.
Erick went inside before it started to rain again.