Erick dealt with Rebecca first, the original shadowcat turned Fyuri from the Glittering Depths, the one that had only murdered people who could be easily revived. The one who had remained inside the Glittering Depths, knowing that if she were to be released out into the world, she would have killed people, and…
“A part of you doesn’t want to kill and hurt others,” Erick said, as he sat across from Rebecca.
The woman did not know that Erick was Ashes, and while he hoped to keep it that way, he had doubts that he would be able to maintain that lie of omission for very long. Mostly, Erick planned not to say a whole lot, and to let Rebecca do the talking.
She seemed to understand that without being told.
“I want to create new lands for my people. But I also want to hurt others a great deal,” Rebecca said, sitting poised and proper on the couch across from the coffee table. “When I was just the shadowcat I was a horror stuck in a box I didn’t know existed. Delver Tom’s team dragged me out of there and gave me the name ‘felhorn’, because I roared like an avalanche…
“When I first became a person, I was just Rebecca. I was naive and hurtful, and hateful. Tom was the one who watched over me to ensure I became a proper person, and I will forever be grateful to him for that. For his kindness, and his guidance. But then I found out my True Name, and I became Fyuri Riameteer, and I turned devious. I remembered how to hide my kills. I remembered how to hide my evil impulses. And I remembered… Doing a lot of evil, to a lot of people. I became two people in one, as both sides of me came into confluence with each other, and now I’m just Rebecca. I am not the person who came before, and I’m not the shadowcat which Tom named ‘Rebecca’. But I think I’m closer to Rebecca than Fyuri.
“I think I would be the best sort of person… if I had certain parts of myself altered. I would take an Empathy, and a [Reincarnation]. I would like to be more than what Riam made of me. I would like to be free of my unfortunate past.” Rebecca bowed in her seat, saying, “Please, Wizard Flatt. I am ready to be someone else.”
“Okay.” Erick stood, flicking his hand through the air. Paperwork appeared, along with a pen. “[Reincarnation] paperwork. Fill it out. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Before you go!” Rebecca rapidly said, raising her head. “Please… Is Ashes here, somewhere?”
“… He’s around.”
Rebecca breathed. “Can I write him a letter? Would he… Read it?”
“I would read it. If Ashes reads it, then that is up to him.” Erick added some blank paper to the rest of the assignment. “See you soon.”
“I’m ready,” Rebecca said, flicking shadows at all of the paperwork, and at the letter. She wrote four pages and Erick almost read it right then, but he pulled back. He would get to it later. Rebecca looked at him— And he knew she knew. In that moment, Erick could tell that Rebecca knew about him being Ashes. One way or another, she had found out, and Erick wasn’t sure when she had found out. She had known since before she stepped into this room, hadn’t she? Yes, she had. She whispered, “Thank you, Wizard Flatt.”
Ashes said, “Goodbye, Fyuri. May we meet in better times.”
Fyuri nodded.
And then Erick transformed her, putting her into a coma in the process and sending her off to the wake-up house. Her new form looked exactly the same as the old, but younger. 20 years old instead of 40. Black hair and amber eyes, with red lips, and pale skin. All of her futures had been horrific things where she killed and killed, rose to power, and died trying for more. But Erick had managed to force another future, by looking deep enough.
With any luck, Rebecca would become a force for fostering good in the world. She’d probably end up a high-powered merchant or attorney or administrator of some sort; Erick wasn’t sure exactly. But she had been at the center of a web of growth, her white-colored magic protecting the land from red shattering power, as she brought forth cities from desolation. All that red lightning was probably a metaphor for the evil of her previous life. Riam seemed fond of red lightning.
Erick was glad to rid her of that.
And then he read the letter.
Only the first page was an extensive, yet simple apology from Fyuri, to Ashes. The rest was a great deal of insider information about Greensoil, detailing plots and evils perpetrated by the Inquisitors and by individual nobles, all of it centered around the Glittering Depths. Rebecca had been an Inquisitor, and rather central to all the dealings in Utopia, through the Iron Bandits company. She had a lot of information about all that, from the truth of the demon dungeon breaks of three years ago, to every single super weapon or other horror created in the Workshop that could be unleashed on the world at large, to information on the Viridian Throne that the Throne would want to keep hidden.
There were also a lot of details about Utopia, and how fragile everything was down there.
Erick could already see himself sending Rebecca back to Utopia to keep the place together. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that right now. Maybe he’d read the letter again later, and decide if he cared to give Rebecca that opportunity.
- - - -
In the throne room of Odaali, Erick delivered Odaari to King Cyril Odaali, and Queen Yetta. Everyone was dressed for a show, because while this was partially a show, it was also the rectification of a great evil that Odaari and the Halls of the Dead had visited upon the city of Odaali, and the rest of the world.
The Daydropper had been a plant capable of extinguishing all life on Veird, hence the Kill and Exterminate Quest from Atunir.
[Scry] eyes held in the air all around the massive throne room, with much of Greensoil and others watching this moment. Those eyes did not encroach upon the center space, for [Ward]s had been placed to automatically pop any that crossed into the dome, where Denutha Odaari stood in front of the thrones of the king and queen, and Erick stood off center.
Odaari had promised to tell everyone everything, and to answer every question.
Erick believed she would do that.
But Cyril and Yetta were too furious to accept her simple ‘promise’; their hate was a decade old, and had only gotten deeper now that they were so close to finally getting all of their revenge. Erick would be rewinding time if something untoward happened.
He believed something would happen.
But first, came the story of what had already happened, over a decade ago.
Back then Champion Yetta and prince Cyril had come to Erick, asking for the archmage’s help in destroying the Daydroppers which had been stolen by Shade Planter, and raised inside Ar’Kendrithyst. Erick had done as much as he could have done for them, but Jane had done more. Jane had guided them through the Dead City, to where their team confronted Planter. They had killed Planter, and then promptly got captured by all the other Shades, to be sacrificed to Melemizargo. Jane had rescued Cyril and Yetta, but she failed to rescue Dorthy and Basil, who had been childhood friends to Cyril and Yetta, while Allan had died fighting Planter, making that yet another childhood friend gone forever.
“But we had won,” Yetta said, continuing the story, her voice an even thing to hide the deep anger underneath. “In that journey into the Dark, we had won another archmage’s help, and cleared away an infestation of the Daydropper that only we could clear. Archmage Erick Flatt, back before he was known as the Wizard, then answered Odaali’s call for help. He executed the archwarrior Parox Geller with extreme lightning. Then, when the Breach Demon seemed all but a sure thing, our friend Erick broke the Breach Barrier and executed another name on the Kill and Exterminate Quest; Arrox Geller. He went on to crash a glacier into Odaali, and then Archmage Tenebrae took over from there, to kill the Daydropper Queen that infested our ancient home. Archmage Flatt then went on to help us search for and eliminate another Daydropper Queen in the Halls of the Dead.
“And then it was done.
“All but one part. One final part that had been withheld from us for all this time.
“But no longer!”
Yetta breathed, then sat back in her throne.
Cyril’s voice filled the air, “Denutha Odaari. Cousin. Aunt. Branch family of the Odaalis. The last remaining one, because you killed all the rest. You were and still remain the final part of Holy Atunir’s Kill and Exterminate Quest. You have been found guilty of crimes against the world.”
Yetta spoke, “Holy Atunir is merciful, for you have proven your repentance to her. But we mortals live in this mortal world, and we demand satisfaction. For the murder of our families. For the murder of our people. For conspiring with demons and threatening to destroy the world in any way that you could… You have a lot to answer for.”
Cyril said, “You are here to answer for those crimes. You will not get a second chance at this. Tell us first, why you did it.”
Erick stood to the side, off of the carpet. Poi stood far behind Erick, near the side of the room, along with a bunch of other nobles who had been invited to this rapid hearing. This wasn’t a trial, though. Odaali had already declared Odaari a persona non grata, and this was either going to be her final goodbye, or her redemption under Erick’s power.
If she answered truthfully, and showed real remorse, which Erick was pretty sure was the case, then he would transform her into whatever she wanted, and then disappear her into some other part of the world. She’d get a permanent tracker on her from Atunir after the transformation, but she was willing to accept that.
Denutha Odaari stood atop the carpet leading to the throne, looking fragile in her older age, but she was only 60ish. The weight of the day was weighing on her, but an inner fire was lit inside, for she was ready. She had been ready for this day for a very long time.
Odaari began, “When I was younger, I tried my hand at the [Familiar] spell. I found great success in plantwork [Familiar]s. It was the roots, you see. Trees in a forest might look disconnected, but they communicate with each other through the roots. I made a [Familiar] which did exactly that. It wasn’t an Arbor, because I didn’t want an Arbor, and I wasn’t ready to deal with Treehome. My beloved grew fast. Sane, too. She would pop up here and there when I was on a walk through the fields of grain which House Odaari oversaw, as our noble duty, and profit. She supported growth in every single field she visited, connecting with the roots of temporary plants— wheat, mostly. She grew wheat. She didn’t like it when the wheat was cut, but she understood that we raised plants to feed our people.
“The Viridian Throne discovered my daughter.
“The Throne came to me, asking for me to replicate her power in other fields. We tried. We failed. All of those ones, which I did not spend nearly enough time on personally growing, became like an Arbor turned bad, but a lot more insidious. As they separated from me, the problem became worse. The Throne burned those [Familiar]s-turned-real.
“The original discovered this, having long been real, and in communication with me every day. She voiced her displeasure at the Throne’s judgment by rotting out every single field she grew under, which was 90% of the crops.
“The aftermath of what came next is why I would eventually rebel.
“The previous King Odaali, your father, burned my greenhouse, killing my child, before I could make it home to solve the problem with words.” Denutha said, “This was over 40 years ago. I hadn’t even seen the Halls before that, but the death of my daughter and the ruined prospects of spreading my children across Greensoil, to help us all, embittered me. When my uncle perished not a year later, I failed to gain the inheritance I should have, due to King Odaali’s direct influence. That is when I began to conspire with demons, because there was only one way I was ever going to gain a measure of respect. I had to be as ruthless and as murderous as the rest of you, so that is what I became.”
Denutha went silent.
The audience shouted awful things, but they did not advance toward her, for they were locked behind spellwork and guards stood ready to prevent mob-rule.
Cyril said, “All because of a misunderstanding—”
“It was not a misunderstanding!” Denutha exclaimed. “Your father knew exactly what he was doing when he killed my daughter when I was away. He was jealous of what I was doing for the kingdom. Of the riches I was bringing in! Of my daughter’s power in our lands— In Odaari lands! He had NO RIGHT!” Denutha spoke softer, “It was not a misunderstanding when your father stripped me of an inheritance of an uncle that YOUR FATHER ALSO KILLED, and I had to make my own way in the world.”
Erick kept his face even, and calm, but he could see all of that happening exactly as Odaari claimed. He believed her.
Cyril did not trust Odaari, though. His anger blinded him. He did not speak, though, for he did not trust himself not to explode at the woman.
Yetta had less control. “So that gives you the right to ally with the Halls?! To kill your own people?!”
Denutha kept her voice even as she said, “The Viridian Throne only has veto authority on legislature, and only if less than 65% of the High Court is in agreement. The Throne’s major power is the power to assassinate whoever they wish.” Denutha stressed, “They assassinate. Whoever. They. Want. Your previous king did so illegally, all the time.
“Power is what makes right.
“Weakness is what makes wrong.
“Everything else is nothing.
“It wasn’t till Wizard Flatt came to this world to remake it into something better that there was ever any other sort of way, and it’s still not as good as it could be! All of Greensoil is still a problem. From how incani are treated to how dragonkin are shoved aside. You think Odaali was any better than all the rest of Greensoil? HA! That is a figment of your own imagination. Odaali has always been as big of a decaypool as the rest of Greensoil, you just hid it better! And even with all the advancements for non-human rights in Odaali today, you only do that to make the Wizard happy! Nothing you do is because it is the right thing to be done! All of you are guilty of evil! If half of you had as much power as I used to have, then you would have tried to end this world just as I tried!
“I’ve seen how you treat each other when there is nothing to be gained from polite interactions. I see how you hire dragonkin and think it’s something you should be praised for doing.
“All of Greensoil should collapse. From how the rulers of this land still use [Weaken Monsters] to ensure that no one gains levels. To how none of the schools teach non-humans. To segregation everywhere, and discrimination in every hall of power. To separate lines for humans versus non-human! To how only humans can ever gain any real power in this land, to how everyone else can only ever become a knight! A servant to someone else who holds the real reins.
“All of you should repent for the evil you have done for others, and continue to do to others.
“My family was no better, which is why I killed all of them over the years, and many of them with the Daydropper.
“But my fight is over. I’m done. I played the game of Greensoil, and I lost horribly. The last ten years have been me realizing that, and making even more weapons for the Throne to use against all of you who step out of line, because that is how you operate as a civilization. I am repentant for everything I did against Atunir, and for all the horrors I caused for a Goddess I love so much. I never meant for that to happen, but I did mean to kill as much of Odaali as I could, and I am SO HAPPY that I killed your father, and the rest of the royal family.
“So take your revenge, while knowing that the system that made me still exists, and you have done exactly NOTHING to combat that system! Ha! Die to your own hubris in another age! Haha! I won’t be there to see it, but you should know that I would be laughing. I would be laughing and dancing on your graves!”
Denutha began to cackle—
Yetta threw a golden beam of pure power at the old woman, obliterating her completely, leaving nothing behind.
A blue box appeared.
Kill and Exterminate Quest Complete.
The final threat of the Daydropper is gone from this world.
Rewards distributed according to contribution.
+10 points.
Erick sighed a little, dismissing the box.
Cyril stood along with Yetta, and then the King of Odaali proclaimed that Odaali was finally free of the horror of the Daydropper, and that they could move on from that wound. He had prepared a few speeches for this talk with Odaari, for however it happened, and the one he seemed to go with was the one for healing in the face of horrors, and for community building, and a brighter future. It was meant to combat the message that Odaari spewed, and it seemed to be working. Many, many people were swayed by that speech, and while some of the specifics that Odaali called upon were great for them, and for Greensoil as a whole, Erick knew that Denutha Odaari had been speaking truth. It had been a warped sort of truth, but a truth nonetheless.
Greensoil was fucked up, on a deep, deep level.
Erick was pretty sure that enough grassroots movements would fix that, but a few things could not be fixed so easily, and a problem built over multiple centuries could not be changed without using extreme measures that no one wanted to use. The Viridian Throne’s ability to legally assassinate whoever they wanted wasn’t something that any stable nation could abide by… And yet, Erick could kill whoever he needed to kill. And he had. Often. But he had also brought them back to life and then made them different. Better, he hoped.
Might made right, though… Was there any real solution to that?
Probably not right now.
When bad people got power, there was only one real answer to that. It was the same answer that the people of Veird had visited upon others for a very, very long time, and was most recently shown to the world when Yetta struck down Denutha in a hail of golden power. Might made right, and someone was always more powerful than another. Hopefully, the right sort of people were in charge, and they were allowed to remain in charge. Otherwise, more might was required to make a better right.
… Anyway.
Erick had spoken to Yetta about what would happen if she had needed to obliterate Denutha from this world. Yetta had told Erick to [True Resurrection] her elsewhere, and then do whatever he needed to do. And yet, when Erick tried to do that through Ophiel, back in Candlepoint…
Denutha’s soul didn’t come through. The spell failed.
As Erick listened to Cyril speak of the future, he wondered if Yetta had really destroyed Denutha, down to the soul… Yetta told Erick that she would try not to, but she would leave the option open if she had to. There was another explanation, though. [True Resurrection] also didn’t work if the soul had moved on to their chosen afterlife.
Maybe Denutha was with Atunir.
Cyril moved on to speaking of the cooperation of House Benevolence and Odaali, and gave the floor over to Erick. Erick then spoke about building a better future. It was a speech that he had prepared that was based on a number of other smaller speeches he had given many times before, so it was easy to give. Erick added in a few progressive comments about equality for all races and how dangers to the established order were less likely to pop up if people didn’t feel disenfranchised by the system in the first place.
Normal stuff for him, really. A bit controversial inside Greensoil.
But Greensoil could use some heavier hitting social reform.
- - - -
Erick walked in a field of golden wheat.
Atunir asked, “You haven’t seen Ashes yet?”
Erick realized where he was and caught up to the moment. “No. Not yet. It’s weird, yes? He seems to be doing fine in Candlepoint, anyway.”
And he was. Ashes Woodfield, the real one, the Summoner of Atunir, was in a nice house provided for by the state, next to a Temple of Atunir that was near the farms. His home there was almost exactly like the one Erick had had in the Glittering Depths, and he was free to come and go as he wished. And he went everywhere, a lot. He had been to the university, to the Grand Unified Temple, and even through the Gate Network a little, which took him all the way to Treehome and the Freelands and Songli.
And then he had called out to the Dark, as one who knew better would not do, and Melemizargo had sent Fallopolis to speak to him. The grandmotherly Shade and the Summoner of Atunir had had a long conversation over tea, and Erick had watched that conversation as it happened. But he did not participate in that conversation. He had stayed as far away as he could from the man who might have been a copy of Erick’s previous existence… if that’s how it actually was, anyway. Erick still didn’t know.
No one else did, either. Even Atunir only had a guess, and Erick being a Wizard fucked that guess to hell and back.
Atunir did not like Erick’s reluctance. She said, “It’s been a week since Odaari’s final fate, and you haven’t called out to talk about that, or about anything that happened in the Glittering Depths. I couldn’t even approach you on my own, because you were so very against a meeting. You threw yourself into your work instead, opting to forgo the release of my seal upon Yggdrasil’s soul, which is not what your son wants, but I don’t need to belabor that point with you. You already know that.” Atunir paused, then she said, “The only reason I am able to visit you now is because… Well. I don’t want to betray anyone’s confidence, but… A lot of people are asking about you. And that gives me the ability to contact you even if you’re not open to it.”
Erick had some excuses he could use, to explain his avoidance of Atunir, from Kiri’s reorganization of the Gatemaster position needing some work, to him needing to reorganize what his new position in House Benevolence as the for-life king would mean, legally. There were even the investigations he had done into what Odaari had said, and then there were the two days he had spent with Quilatalap in the Storm’s Edge dungeon. And then there were two gatherings of the High Court of Candlepoint, where all the appointed court members officially, and very politely, asked him to explain himself and what was going on in the world right now.
“I have a lot of responsibilities, and very few of them are to my individual needs,” Erick said. “Yggdrasil knows that, and understands… Unless he told you differently.”
“I don’t want to lie to you, Erick.” Atunir moved on, “I want to discharge my part of the seal, and let you move on to the next part of this Path.”
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Erick flinched. “… I’m not ready for that, Atunir. I’m not ready to step into the Dark like that… Looking for memories of the Sundering.”
“The Relevant Entities are talking about letting Jane go instead.”
“... I suppose I have to be ready.” Erick said, “It’s good to see you, Atunir. Sorry about not calling out to you sooner. I’ve been busy. The dungeon was great. Glad to finally get that Daydropper business over with. Is Denutha here, with you?”
Atunir smiled a little. “Denutha was here for a time. She spoke to her daughters, and to her husband and sisters. They had some final arguments. She did not stick around. She chose to move on, to become part of my divine power, to aid those who ask for help in Field and Fertility.”
“Ah… Well. Good for her.”
“It was what she wanted, and it was what she got. With any luck her final tirade at Odaali will produce good, cosmopolitan results, but only through caring mortal hands will those seeds take root, and sprout, while others attempt to snuff out the green of new, bountiful and different life.”
Erick breathed in the golden air, and sighed, looking out across the blue sky. Those ‘caring mortal hands’ belonged to him, eh?
Atunir continued, “I’d like to send you 465 people from Utopia, to have them join Candlepoint. That includes Imara, the archmage of mana crystals. She greatly exaggerated her love of the Quiet War so that she wasn’t controlled by the Viridian Throne while they were watching. She desperately wishes to begin life again, and she will teach you everything she can about mana crystals, if you desire.”
Erick blinked. “Yes. Yes, of course I will take all of them, and Imara, too. Her [Reincarnation] is not contingent on her mana crystal knowledge, though. I’ll take every good person Greensoil wishes to discourage. All the better to give those people good lives, and to change Greensoil, faster… But by the same token, Rebecca wants to go back to the Glittering Depths… And I am uncomfortable with that place being a source of power for mega weapons. And ancient evils. Do you want her back?”
Atunir smiled a little. “You made a super weapon, but even that staff pales in comparison to the damage you can do with [Vivid Gloom], or any of the other spells you have.”
“… Point.”
“And the evils of Riam never surfaced. They were killed. The lesson in the Glittering Depths is that Evil can be slain, and that is a good lesson. Good can triumph. All it takes is strength and the will to use that strength.
“That is how life works, at its most basic sense, and to deny that fact is to weaken the fabric of society, and civilization, and every level of interaction from the family to government to a field mouse versus a snake. The Glittering Depths is a story about how Good Triumphs when good men stand up and fight. I will not be changing that story. I wish you could believe in that story, too.”
Erick said, “I do believe in that story, but it’s never that simple. The average dragonkin in Greensoil can’t do shit against a government that targets them and prosecutes them as second class citizens.”
Atunir nodded. “You know this, but I must say anyway… I’m a goddess of all peoples, everywhere. I see the horrors, and I see the good. I see people trying. I see people failing, and some succeeding. I see two people who worship me fight each other to the death, because of the influences of others, and their own failures and foibles. I support incani and humans alike. I am a mother to all… And I am not all powerful. I can only help those who want help. But sometimes, I can help those who help others. Like you, Erick.
“You are a good man.
“I wish you the best Fate going forward, and forevermore, in the hopes that others will be like you. I will always be there, just a call away. Or, if you want less of a heavy hand, the staff will accompany you for as long as it can.” Atunir said, “Ask for a boon, anyway, please.”
Erick had to take a moment as pure love filled the air, all encompassing. The love of a goddess.
“I’m good, Atunir. Thank you, though.”
“And that’s fine, too.” Atunir and the dream began to fade away, as she said, “I’m glad we were finally able to work together, even if it did take us this long to get here. Rebecca can come back to the Depths if she wishes, for I trust whatever you did to her to make her a better person. See you again, Erick. Call on me any time.”
- - - -
When Erick woke up he had two hours of normal morning with a bunch of problem solving through Ophiel, and then 467 unscheduled people walked out of the Grand Benevolence Dungeon, talking about how they were here at Atunir’s deliverance through the Dark, and the Wizard’s acceptance. They had taken the path through the Dark, like how Kiri had once walked into the Freelands, and ended up at the Grand Benevolence Dungeon.
Kinder was not among those people, but Archmage Imara, with her mana crystal knowledge, and that Second Floor Marii who oversaw the Workshop, by the name of Mariia, were a part of the group. None of them seemed to know that Erick had been ‘Ashes’, and he left it that way. But there had been one surprise he wasn’t ready for.
Imara came out of the dungeon with a gift.
Inside a private room, right before he was to [Reincarnation] her, the aged archmage pulled out a small blood-red cube from her robes, her wrinkled hands clutching it like it was the most precious thing in the world. She placed it on the table between her and Erick. “This is a Name Finder. I spoke to Atunir in a dream, and she said that I should give this to you, to use or not on all the Riamites who followed us from Utopia, and all the other Utopians, too. They all want to know their true memories. But that’s up to you if you grant them this request.”
Erick stared at the small red cube. It glowed with an inner lightning. “… This is what the Manfields used to awaken Fyuri.”
“One like it, yes.” Imara said, “No idea where that one went. I only ever managed to make three of these. One remains in the Depths. One went to Greensoil. And this one goes to you. I am ready to move on with my life, to make new magics and new mana crystals. It’s really quite a fascinating field of study. Mana. The Dark. Memories. History. All of that is most fascinating…” She frowned a little. “I imagine my personal mana production will collapse back to 1 until I can go through more dungeons to up that to 5,000, to make myself another core. I might not be of use to you for a while, Wizard Flatt… or should I say, ‘Ashes Woodfield’.”
“… Ah. You found out somehow, too. A lot of people know that, but I’d still prefer if it remained a rumor, and not an open fact.”
Imara nodded. “I can understand that. Anyone who sees that circlet of golden wheat around your arm will recognize it as the Summoner’s Staff, though, in a small form.”
The staff around Erick’s wrist popped to full size, to float in the air beside the table. It seemed to look at Imara, even though it had no eye. It did have that white orb at the top that was almost like an eye, though. Erick jangled his wrist at it. And the staff collapsed back down to hug around his left wrist, like a watch; like a bracelet made of wheat-shaped gold with a white opal for a ‘face’.
“I will have to keep that in mind, but he doesn’t like to stay home. He’s learning how to respond to people talking to him, too. Mostly I’ve been able to teach him how to not respond, but a direct callout seems to be a particular learning opportunity for him.”
Imara smiled. “Ah! A ‘him’. I suppose it is only right for a staff to be a ‘him’.”
Erick chuckled at that.
Imara sighed, her old bones and saggy skin relaxing in that moment. “I’m ready, then.”
“Are you sure you want to be an orcol?”
“I am. I’ve been in contact with Tenebrae for a long time. He and his wife love it, and I am ready to leave behind human politics and all the Quiet War horrors. Healing will be a lot easier, too, which is very important when forming a core.” Imara eyed Erick as she stressed, “I’m not going through that particular horror again.”
Erick smiled. “Okay. Are you ready?”
Imara sat as tall as she could. “I am ready.”
“Then this won’t take long at all…”
Soon, Imara was not herself, and Erick sent her through a portal to the wake-up house.
And then he did the same for 328 other people, while using the Name Finder cube on every single Riamite who asked. Some of them turned into truly awful people after they found out their names, saying that they didn’t want to be there anymore, but Erick explained before the Name Finder that no matter the outcome, they were still getting reborn. Some tried to fight him. They did not succeed.
Afterward, Erick sent Rebecca back to the Glittering Depths, via the Surface and a white portal, knowing that Empathy’d and [Reincarnation]ed, she would be good for that place. She would have to see through Greensoil’s plots on her own, but Darundi liked to use everyone he could, and so, he would probably use Rebecca instead of executing her out of hand.
Rebecca knew the risks, and she still opted to go.
- - - -
It took Erick two days to get here.
Erick stood before a low rock wall that separated personal property from public lands. To the east lay fields of grain. They weren’t nearly as golden as the grains in the Glittering Depths, but they were still nice, good grains, ready to be harvested tomorrow, but for now they rested. Yggdrasil had brought the Exalted Rains like he usually did, causing fast growth, but for better taste the farmers usually left the stuff to naturally ripen for at least a day or two.
To the west of the private property lay more houses, and more fields, mostly private fields, with personal vegetables and other assorted goods that people wanted to grow themselves, instead of purchase at a market. It was like that all across this loose neighborhood of Farmersoil, which was a town northeast of Candlepoint, by about a hundred kilometers. It had been founded by exiles and exiters from Greensoil, and was one of many, many places like it. They were a part of the breadbasket of the greened Crystal Forest, which was now no longer a desert—
And Erick had been standing here too long, unwilling to cross onto the private lands.
The owner of these lands stood in the archway of his door, looking at Erick.
Ashes Woodfield, the Summoner, the one from right after he summoned Atunir to Insten, consuming Riam in the process…
Ashes was not as Erick had envisioned him. He did not look like the ‘Ashes’ Erick had conjured and worn as his body while he was down there. This Ashes was a little taller. A little skinny. Thin, almost, like he had been run ragged for years upon years, with barely any breaks at all. Which was exactly what had happened to this one. The Ashes Familiar Form that Erick had adopted had been a stronger guy, born and raised in a time when food was plentiful, and the depredations of Riam had yet to come into full effect.
This Ashes had also unfortunately been plucked from the final floor of the dungeon by Fyuri, and then tortured physically and mentally, until he had given Fyuri his staff, and his power—
“Come the fuck on in,” Ashes said, muttering, “Spilling spellwork all over the damned place. Like I wouldn’t notice that.”
Erick stepped forward—
The golden staff left his wrist and blipped to hover beside Ashes, looking at him, as Ashes looked at the staff.
Ashes froze, his breath hitching as he looked at the staff, his eyes going wide. And then he faltered. He relaxed. He whispered, “You’re not mine.”
The staff flickered and reappeared around Erick’s left wrist.
Erick continued forward as he filled the air around the little cottage and mage tower with even more Privacy spellwork than what he had already put down. “Sorry for the spellwork but it is necessary when you’re the king and you deal with sensitive matters. I don’t want my life to intrude into yours too much.”
“Too fucking late for that, but it ain’t you that brought me to life, who brought me into this weird fucking world. I blame that bitch Fyuri. Fucking evil ass shitwhore. Shoulda stayed dead. I ain’t agree with the decision of Atunir’s to make memories of us all, but who the fuck am I to speak against a goddess.” Ashes said, “I’m just her buttboy, ancient history story, I reckon. I ain’t even a fucking Wizard anymore. You believe that shit?”
Erick found himself relaxing rather fast. “You can regain personal mana production through going through dungeons these days.”
“Yeah yeah.” Ashes backed up, into his home, saying, “Come on in, the fuck. I got tea or coffee— Heard you invented coffee! Howsabout that shit. I never invented any foods—” He looked around. “Coffee is already made, so looks like you’re getting that. I ain’t making no damned tea.”
Erick followed the man inside, saying, “I just stole the ideas from Earth.”
“Theft is fine when it benefits all. I stole ideas from everyone I met, all to fight a fight that became a storytime parable! Didn’t feel like no parable at the time… But I guess it worked out. I bet the real me got a good life afterward… Better fucking have!” Ashes sat down at his table, in his living room, and poured himself some coffee. Then he slid the pot to Erick, saying, “I don’t do fancy. Hope you don’t mind.”
Erick made himself some coffee. He sipped it. It was black, and thick enough to stand a spoon in, as the saying went. “Do you like the coffee?”
“It’s got a good kick,” Ashes sipped his coffee, which was also black. Then he said, “So what the fuck happens now? You got me here. You gonna torture me, too? Try to dig out secrets?”
“No,” Erick said, “I’d like to leave you to your own devices, but the fact is that you know way too much about too much. So I need to either be able to trust you, and to know that you can protect yourself, or I need you to accept a [Reincarnation], so I can change your fate into something I know would work here on Veird. I need to be sure that you won’t try to become ‘The Summoner’ ever again, to rock this world with power that should not be touched.”
“… Right into the meat of it, eh?” Ashes thought for a moment, then said, “I decree by the Dark and by my power that I will not break that which should not be broken.”
Shadows flickered.
Erick said, “Normally, that would be good enough… And I suppose I should let it be good enough. You’ve got no Benevolence ring around your neck, which I know Fallopolis already talked to you about… She was a lot more forthcoming with information than I imagined she would be.”
“It’s pretty shitty that the Dark went insane, eh?” Ashes said, “I can only imagine what that must have looked like… We had Shades in the battle between Insten and Riam. I had one that helped me... She should have been in that dungeon with me, after the battle of the Plains. That’s when we met, when I made that staff. The Dark was the first to respond to my call for help and that response was her; the envoy. But she wasn’t there. In the real world, we were married there in the end. That was my happy ending. And Insten flourished.” Ashes said, “But I guess you can’t have good Shades around this world yet, eh?”
“... Sorry you don’t have her. I never made it past the Second Floor, so that’s as much as I can remember, and it’s all foggy anyway.”
“It’s probably best not to remember that shit. It got bad at the end...” Ashes said, “Say. So. I want some power of my own. How do I get that?”
Erick decided, “There are dungeons all over the world that you can delve to gain real, lasting power, that underlies the Script; mana production. Gaining actual levels under the Script is difficult, but Ar’Kendrithyst is home to both a city, and the largest, semi-controlled monster zone in this continent, so you can get levels there by killing monsters. Other than that, you can join the Adventurer’s Guild and take up contracts to hunt monsters for levels. Oceanside has a nice arcanaeum, but I have a nice arcanaeum at Candlepoint, too. One of the largest in the world these days, and still growing—”
“That. I want that. Tuition or whatever, too. Your arcanaeum. Not that other place. Ocean-whatsit.”
“I’ll make that happen.”
“I heard you’re the endpoint for the Worldly Path, too.”
“… I am. If you complete the Path, I will likely transform you into a dragon or [Reincarnation] you into Benevolence, to help you build your first node inside Benevolence Itself. I have an apprentice who completed the Path recently, and I did the same for her.”
Ashes breathed in, relaxing. “… Well fucking shit. I like that. ‘Benevolence’. I was Elemental Ashes. Still am.”
“Lot of good things can come from ashes. Lots of good harvests.”
Ashes chuckled. “Yeah. I suppose so… So they call you Xoat Reborn, eh?”
“… They do.”
“Glad you took that title.” Ashes softly stared at Erick, as he said, “I ain’t about that life anymore.”
Erick paused. “… Ah.”
“It’s not true, far as I ever found out. But people be peopling. Gotta attach names to everything to make sense of it all. Still don’t think I am. Don’t think you are, either… But who knows! Certainly not me.”
“… I don’t think I am, either.”
A moment passed.
Ashes began, “I reckon I got—”
“I have stuff to do, too.” Erick stood. “Good day, Ashes. If you want to talk about the horrors of your life with someone who has seen a lot of horrors… Have you heard of Mind Mages, yet?”
“Ahh… I have not?” Ashes thought, as he remained seated. He said, “I have not heard of Mind Mages.”
“You’ll be seeing one for at least one session. Her name is Gabby. If you see her again after that, then it’s your choice.”
“… I can deal with that,” Ashes said, not actually understanding what Erick was saying, but going along with it anyway.
Erick nodded. Ashes nodded back.
And then Erick left.
- - - -
Ashes slumped in his seat, feeling all kinda ways.
“Well fuck me with a hoe, that was almost as bad as visiting myself in the Paradox.”
- - - -
Erick rested on a bench on his cloudcastle, saying, “Gods, that was weird. Almost like visiting myself in the Paradox.”
… Erick realized a personal failure at that moment. He hadn’t checked up on Ezekiel in a while. What was his copy up to? … Or was Erick just postponing his required trip to Dungeon Island by letting himself get distracted by Ezekiel? Probably.
Ezekiel could handle himself.
- - - -
The day was bright and the coastal city of Charme was as great as always, with a protected coast layered with node network magics, and a nice collection of natural dungeons kept far away from the main city. The only dungeon inside the city was a split land of nothing at all, that most people could go to, and a separate layer that accepted monsters all the time. That node network out by the coast did more than just protect the people of the land from monsters and themselves, but it also funneled all incoming sea monsters through underwater dungeon portals, to ensure that no one actually encountered any monsters at all. There were many places like that all down the coast. The city of Charme, and all its lands, were some of the nicest in the Cities because of that. Other places took different approaches.
But Ezekiel was glad he had moved here. Charme was not the center of the Local Area Gate Network of the Sovereign Cities; that honor belonged to Curio, with no distinction between South and North these days. Though some people still referred to them that way. But Charme was good for other reasons, besides just its great seafood and stunning architecture and wonderful people.
Charme was filled with artisans and theater and art and a wonderful magitech industry, which was the primary reason why Ezekiel had bought a shop in this place two weeks ago. Sure, he could have stayed in Candlepoint, and he had tried to make a go of that for a while, but… That was kinda painful. Better to have a clean break. Ezekiel had even broken up with Quil, for that was painful in a different way. Ezekiel was not Erick, and Quil was not Quilatalap, and after one direct talk about that, and many other smaller talks, Quil had simply dove right into the Big Conversation, no matter how painful it had been at the time for both of them. Afterward, Quil, that lucky bastard, was able to simply remove his love for Ezekiel from himself, just like how he had put it there in the first place. Ezekiel would need more time to naturally heal. But… That was for the best, too.
Ezekiel wasn’t Erick, but he still had that desire to work, and to make the world better, which is why he had chosen to make a magitech shop, and open that shop just on the outskirts of Charme’s main city.
Ezekiel rose with the dawn, stretched his huge arms, and lumbered out of bed, in a body that was more muscular than he was— Than Erick was used to. But this other form was growing on Ezekiel in a lot of ways. He kinda liked being a big guy… Probably because he liked being the Apparent King, but only the Apparent King was allowed to be the Apparent King these days. Ezekiel would have to get away with looking like a half-orcol.
He was still a dragon, too, but that form only came out rarely. Still looked like Melemizargo, but Ezekiel was working on that, too. It was apparently really hard to transform one’s dragon shape and color, with most of the problem being mental. Ezekiel liked black. He liked black a lot. What other color could compare to black! There wasn’t one.
Breakfast was eggs on toast, the bread taken from a simple pantry on the second floor of his shop, and the eggs heated in a lot of butter in a cast iron pan on the stove. As he ate, he cast his senses wide, and checked on the nosy neighbors, who had seen Ezekiel come in with all his metal work and precision equipment a while ago and started judging him immediately.
That husband and wife pair had wondered if he was going to be making a lot of racket, like the old tenant, the steelsmith. Those nosy neighbors glared out their kitchen window at Ezekiel’s shop as they had breakfast, too, the husband arguing with the wife about how they should have bought the place while they had the chance, and the wife saying that it was his idea to wait for the price to go down. They had missed out, because this was one of the few places that was free of many of the restrictions of the node network around Charme, for lots of magics got used here, and Ezekiel was going to be using all of those ‘dangerous’ magics.
His nearest neighbor was just that husband and wife, in their ‘mother-in-law’ house, which had originally been a part of this property, but which had been separated a while ago for reasons Ezekiel didn’t care to discover. His house was 20 meters away from their place, while his other neighbors were down the road at least half a block, or down the road and across the street.
Maybe Ezekiel would buy out his direct neighbors and unify the property again, just to have some better privacy.
But for now, Ezekiel changed and went downstairs, to begin the rest of his day.
The front rooms had been a display room, while the back rooms had been a forging place, and though the forge remained, everything else had been gutted. Ezekiel was steadily replacing the lost stuff and he had started with an anvil. By now, the back rooms looked like a pauper’s forge, while the front rooms held a bunch of stuff that worked, but it could be improved upon. Mostly metal junk, and a bunch of it very expensive. Ezekiel wasn’t really open for business, though. Not yet. He was still in the inventing phase of this whole ‘remake magitech better’ plan.
Ezekiel went to his workbench where a good dozen prototypes of movie projectors waited for him. That was his main project right now; to make a movie player that didn’t require multiple image crystals and multiple records to show off a movie. Most of these prototypes and for-sale options were not his own work. Most of them were just the latest models that you could buy in high-end appliance stores.
All of them were trash, because all of them required technical knowledge to troubleshoot and fix them when they fucked up, mostly when the video crystals or records fell out of sync. Which was often.
Ezekiel wanted to make a better one…
“But where’s my assistant?” Ezekiel asked the air, expecting a response. “It’s already 8 am, Gnowmi.”
A small layer of reality peeled back on the other side of the workshop, like someone was lifting the covers on an invisible bed, which was exactly what was happening. Gnowmi rolled out of her bed and landed on the wooden floor of the workshop, yawning deep, as she scratched her fluffy, unkempt red hair. She was a very small fae, dressed in what might have resembled a tunic and pants, were those clothes not made of softest gold and encrusted with diamonds on every hem. She blinked her gem-like eyes a few times, then she looked at Ezekiel.
From one moment to the next, she woke herself up, and happily said, “Mornin!”
“I made you eggs and toast too, if you want it.” Ezekiel said, “It’s upstairs in a Preservation. Coffee, too.”
“I shall!” Gnowmi twisted the air, vanishing behind invisible magics once again, only to reappear upstairs, in the kitchen. “Ah! Always excellent eggs.” In another twist of Reality Gnowmi reappeared, standing on the workbench with the prototypes, inspecting where she and Ezekiel had left off yesterday, her eggs-on-toast not dripping anywhere at all, even though she was holding it vertical and using it to measure the latest projection box. Then she went back to eating. “Fair work so far. I don’t like how these crystals are so false, though. Perhaps another trip to Fairie is in order? Better crystalrecordtech there.”
Ezekiel thought. “… We could go buy stuff from Ar’Cosmos again, if you think we might have missed a mana crystal shop?”
“We hit up most of the major merchants. But we might find some smaller sellers of great goods. Maybe over in other lands of Fairie? Have you been to the Underhill, which is Over-Treehome? Great carvers of chance and character there.”
“Sure. I’ll be your guest for that trip.”
Gnowmi nodded. She decided, “We can go in a few hours. Perhaps this part here needs some more sigaldry in screen-wise ways. Light-bright-shape-to-memory into crystallize-through-time along with the accompanying slides. Perhaps less of an increase in density of images and more in an increase in meaning? Magic can bridge many gaps if given lax instructions.”
“That’s one way to solve the information problem,” Ezekiel said, standing over the work now, next to Gnowmi. “But that leads to interference from manasphere impressions. Might be good for making horror movies, though.”
“… Perhaps not that direction, then,” Gnowmi said.
They spoke for a little while longer and eventually got around to actually inscribing meaning into platinum. They had some small success with the new day’s new methodology that had both of them decide to postpone the trip to Fairie until they exhausted this new, possibly-promising avenue of arcanity.
Ezekiel might not be Erick, but he still liked working on problems with people he enjoyed being around, and Gnowmi was one of the very few people who didn’t get weird around Ezekiel… Which was great! This was a new life anyway? Right? No need to seek out people he already knew, to become just a ‘copy of Erick’. He was more than that. He was his own person…
But he missed Jane. No way around that sadness.
- - - -
Destiny sat down beside the woman who called herself Clarice, but who was actually a Fae Dragon. She wasn’t calling herself ‘Clarice’ right now, of course, because she was in a new Familiar Form. Destiny would get to that, eventually. For now, Clarice had that characteristic look that everyone got when Destiny showed up unannounced. ‘Who the fuck are you?’ and ‘How did you get in here?’ and a touch of ‘Are my [Ward]s failing?’. They were currently inside Clarice’s rental in North Curio, and Clarice was currently pretending at having breakfast, but what she was really doing was scoping out the three Benevolence Dragons which ran this city.
Or something like that. Benevolence was telling Destiny a lot right now, and she’d get to that, too, but for now—
“Pardon me, stranger,” Clarice asked, affecting an accent that matched her new form of an older woman from the area. “Is there a reason you have joined me for breakfast? On my own balcony?”
“He stirred up a plot in the Storm’s Edge dungeon when he got there,” Wizard Destiny said, completely ignoring Clarice’s attempt at subterfuge. “Told me he would talk to me about all that stuff, and I got a letter instead. Did you get a letter, too?”
Clarice frowned, and dropped some of the act. “Apparently, I also only warrant a letter, Wizard Destiny.”
Destiny sat back in her chair and had some of Clarice’s toast and jam. The Fae Dragons locked her up for decades, so it was only right to steal from them whenever she felt like it. “Good jam!”
“I have a bottle left in the apartment, if you want it.”
“I already stole that one.” Destiny looked at Clarice. “When did you know he was not who he said he was?”
“… I would say instantly, if I could. But that would be a lie, and you’re not here for lies.”
Destiny nodded. “What would your reaction be if I told you that I can make Benevolent Dragons, too.”
Clarice stared hard. “… I’m interested.”