Though some of the outcasts from the subjugated swarms resisted the idea of being under my rule in this new land, Sybil’s warning combined with my obvious support kept any keelish from breaking off from the rest of us. Now that they’d been presented with a beautiful, rich environment, it seemed like they weren’t willing to jeopardize this seemingly chosen land. I was sure that it wouldn’t be long before they all fell willingly under my leadership, given how it felt to cross one of a higher evolutionary tier. It’d been so long since I’d felt that in any way other than the distinct superiority that I’d nearly forgotten. Even so, I could recall the shuddering obedience that facing Redael as a mere spawnling had instilled. Those who rejected my guidance would remain as keelish, and as I ascended to Keel, I suspected that my mere presence would be nearly as impactful as Sybil’s magic would be.
Took and Sybil conferred together as they organized hunting packs. Long gone were the solidified, exclusionary packs of my old swarm. Instead, a more malleable, fluid structure under frequent revisions by the upper echelons of leadership had slowly appeared. I hadn’t taken special notice of it, as my focus on leadership had instead been more of an overarching approach than engrossed in the minutia of the details. Even so, the individuals of the swarm as a whole had better integrated themselves alongside the rest under Sybil’s flexible organization. Paired with Sybil, Shemira, Farahlia, and their subordinates gently suggesting a generally obedient feeling over the swarm as a whole, there were no hints of widespread brewing discontent.
With dozens of keelish obviously considering breaking away from my swarm, I trusted Took and Sybil’s plans to work, and they set the most unruly and obviously malcontent along the most zealous and devoted. None of the displeased were left alone to stew or plan and were instead sent into scouting, hunting, and other active positions. I left the terrifying females I trusted to enact their machinations while I simply allowed myself some measure of recuperation. With days of hourly agony behind me, my stomach settled, my persistent headache died, and I breathed more easily.
Even while relaxing, though, I refused to remain idle. I walked through the swarm, interacting with my subordinates. Though I couldn’t yet fully capitalize on the benefits of [Spear of the Many], I would eventually, and further establishing myself as the true Alpha and leader of the swarm would allow me to sooner extend the breadth of my influence. Beyond that, though, I found I enjoyed walking among my people, feeling their support, even if they didn’t follow me completely enough to lend their strength to my newest [Skill].
“Thank Nievtala for you.” One older male I recognized from Farahlia’s swarm said, his scales’ color beginning to fade along his extremities. “I would have died to the Moonchildren if you hadn’t come.”
“I’m glad you and yours have made it here.” I responded. “It was not a simple journey, and others didn’t.”
“More joined.” The older male seemed to disagree with my sentiment, sending a brief flare of frustration through me. “You protected us, guided us. Those who died only served to prove your wisdom, and now they serve Nievtala, don’t they? I felt her. She will lead them to eternal victory, and vigilance over us.”
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His sudden religious philosophizing took me by surprise. Before I responded, I internally asked the goddess, “Is he correct? I’ve never thought about an afterlife.”
A god offers solace to their followers. I offer to the fallen that which I offer to the living: conquest. Over the dead, over their foes, and over themselves.
I felt that she’d responded only to me, but even so, the older male somehow felt that I’d received some sort of divine answer. “She has purged your doubt, Disciple, has she not? Our goddess is far more than you understood.” He smiled a giddy, almost childlike grin and bowed low with respect.
“What’s your name grayscale?”
“I am Shraal. May you continue to follow in Nievtala’s steps.” Then, with a final bow, Shraal turned and stepped away, allowing others of the swarm to step closer to me. I idly listened to an excitable younger adult as I asked Nievtala once again, “Has he spoken with you before today? Felt your presence? Where did he come up with these ideas?”
Shraal is the most religiously minded of your people. He has not yet spoken the entirety of the Words, but he will shortly after you do, as it is your place to serve as the Progenitor. Regardless, divine influence and a goddess’ presence are not so common as you seem to think. No other has dared to twist my ear as you do, and none have lived to deny my blessings. That male will be the first of my priesthood in this dispensation. He is eager to please and will serve me readily. Much of ideas are divinely ordained and originated, while I disabuse him of any misunderstandings that come due to his mortal frailty.
Though my tolerance to Nievtala’s presence and words had grown in my time as her Chosen and now Disciple, so many words in such a short time had my vision swimming and my nostrils dripping blood. Even though she’d obviously modulated her tone and power to be the barest fraction of what it could be, the hint of her frustration at my negative reaction to how she’d forced me before sent me reeling. As I reacted to Nievtala, the female I’d been listening to whipped her head back and forth, concern and confusion warring across her face.
“Did I do something? Can I do something?” She asked, her voice rising in fear.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Our goddess merely blessed me with an answer to a question. I would like to hear how your efforts among the Kou’Tal shepherds have been. I suspect you are near your own evolution at this point.”
Confused, the aspiring Kou’Tal answered my request and briefly told me how she’d learned how to turn aside a charging oxfiend with the help of several others. Even so, she quickly and apologetically excused herself before whispering about how I was the chosen of our goddess to anyone who would listen. I supposed she was correct, and didn’t argue against her words. I idly noted the counter for “true believers” tick up to 121 as she continued gossiping.
I turned to continue speaking with another of my swarm, but was cut off by the barest hint of a shout, far away. My magic carried the sonic waves to my ear, and as I understood them, I rushed out to where Silf was returning with something interesting.