Iris Cole.
9th of Quartutus, 1492.
The Shujen Kingdom Underground. 200 km depth. Nydorden Halls.
15:45.
***
{ICE V3.1… Boot Up Sequence Initiated.}
{Initializing POST.}
{Systems Check: Green.}
{Shifting Engram Polarity: Engram Consciousness Achieved.}
{Stimulating Sensory Suite: Online}
{Checking Connections.}
{Running Diagnostics: All Systems Green.}
{POST Complete.}
{Mana Web: Connected.}
{VoidNet: Connected}
{NoxNet: Connected}
{Encryptions Established… Loading Profile: Supreme Administrator: Praefectus Noctis… Load Complete.}
{Running TechGoddess.Exe.}
—
I rebooted to find virtually all of my hardware missing and a drow's visage poised a hair's breadth away from my optics. I was not in a good mood. I felt vulnerable. Naked. High Matron Etyl Za'Darmondiel being so close pushed the boundaries of my temper settings to the edge, but there was a lot on my processors to distract me, and ignoring her was easy with tunable sensors such as mine. Her voice was muted, and though I could have rendered her invisible to my optics, I elected not to and instead began a walk of my own.
Still, she followed me while I followed Deeke's self-imposed march for much of 24 hours, but I did no marching. I redesigned suites for my augmentations and hardware; the armored skin, enhanced muscles, prehensile tail belt, the deployable turreted wands in my pauldrons, drones, armor, and so on; all that had been lost with my post-evolutionary update, dubbed the Iris Cole Engram Version 3.1. Gathering the materials for the augmentations was both an interesting and frustrating endeavor. Etyl tailed me closer than Ein did, but she didn't ask anything of him when he started chewing on resources or equipment dropped by the dead. Not that she did to me, though. Molecular magic made absorbing matter into my body easier than ever. Especially when I could just conjure the manufactured molecules in my mouth. But when I couldn't cast spells without a rainfall of questions, I had to absorb them passively through my feet instead.
A day of walking saw those materials gathered or otherwise synthesized. Feigning sleep, I then activated the augmentation process to return to me what was lost, yet preserved some processing power for passive sensing and the fulfilment of my duties. I deliberately left my optics off, though. The probability of Etyl peering into the depths of my optics was simply too high, and though I was now in a better mood, I didn't feel like getting brought down by her scheming curiosities. Or worse, be seen as some exotic specimen to analyze.
I instead expanded my reach beyond my body to step halfway into the Game, allowing the comforting field of grid lines to spread infinitely around me. Nydorden Halls was clearer than ever before. Less because of my father and more because of Deeke, wreaking havoc in the other halls above, yet my perspective widened further. It crossed the Peninsula in milliseconds. Connections were established to each Imperator's domain, creating bridges to their generals that fed to their machines, devices, and equipment; my primary domain - technology.
She knew of my faith. She knew of my class. Yet Etyl interrupted me to state the obvious. "You give a Mass Blessing."
I turned my auditory settings down and continued about my business. But not before picking up on Wilson's deadpanned words. "I do. Thanks for noticing, High Matron. Although, I wouldn't quite call it-"
I couldn't laugh at the thought of her turning her ire upon the uncaring Eldritch Engineer, for I was granting him admin-level access to the Deathworld of ice floating above Shujen. It was the largest blip in my digital world. A veritable star of data that granted a thousand perspectives of the newly constructed arcologies and the gluttonous one who governed them from nearby. That was something I wished to see in person. Thus, with Wilson's access granted, I prayed my stream of data to the ArcaTech as thanks for the retention and automatic updating of my software before stepping fully into the Game.
It was only natural for the games of Space Go between my team and my dad and sometimes Blude to grow into a constant, ever-expanding game between Eotrom's Legions and the surrounding polities. After all, the software I was rewarded for completing my bardic studies was focused on logistics, commanding, and leadership. The Logi-Cortex, General Mode, and the Noctis Tracker; a database, blue force tracker, and status indicator for every legionary. Everything was the same. And so, just as I did all those years ago, I gazed upon the legions civilian and logistical units scattered high above or deep below the Peninsula, leaving a slim minority spread across the vast surface with their military counterparts. Contrarily, every unit of the natives was somewhere on or just below the surface. Few existed in the skies, and the ones found deep below had only scratched the dark surface.
Even now, it was a surreal experience. I was both on, above, and within the Bodhi Peninsula whilst simultaneously sitting on the high throne of our round table; us, the Legions' Generals, augmented with their Honorable Heirs. So too were we connected; them to the technology and members of their legions and me to them all. And so we played, maneuvering our pieces across the ever-expansive board in response to those known and unknown things out to plague Eotrom.
As of late, the maneuvering had been done independently, with the Legions operating in the same regions they'd been in for months. Moreover, each Legion established its own daily regimens and training courses for their recruits, built on weekly schedules that varied in levels of strictness; all while fulfilling their Imperators' orders. The probability of them remaining in their present locales for the rest of the year was high. Especially with there being two months until they were to enter the Darkroom. Many were having their Doppelgangers follow in the footsteps of the Grandmaster and Imperator Ed by turning to more philanthropic endeavors to net more recruits; building orphanages or schools, sponsoring businesses, organizations, or even contacting the rulers of these nations.
That was all fine and well, but things had changed. Those beyond our budding empire had gotten involved, and the Imperators had completed the Grandmaster's orders to establish unique cultures and become self-sufficient empires.
Summarization; it was my move.
The first order of business was the distribution of rewards to every legionary. Badges, tabs, and decorated medals for their dress uniforms to display accomplished feats, recognize those who completed higher levels of training, and reward those who participated in the few campaigns we'd seen thus far. A small feat and only the beginning of my turn. What came next was just as small, but much more significant. Data packets regarding the Darkroom and the prerequisites to become official Noctis Legionaries and obtain the warlock paths the Grandmaster set out for them. I then approved the Anti-Expansionists Measure and the Overwatch, Assist, and Uplift Program put forth by the Crown, making it effective immediately. Then came the fun part.
War was brewing in Rhar, and we would ensure we would be poised for the first strike. Thus, the Legions that were not preoccupied received orders that varied in both depth and intensity. Those with the most on their plate were the Legion of the Grandmaster's vassal, Jaimess A. Corey, the Tengu Tamer; which was fitting, considering it was he who warned King Corym against sending agents after the Grandmaster. Naturally, the recent spilling of blood saw the situation intensify, so now, General Carver was to plan for the Crown to begin a covert smear campaign against Rhar before they arrived in Nevstan. Moreover, they were to continue gaining the favor of the Bodhi Nations by forming Eomen Embassies in Vruria, Ligin, Nevstan, Bakewia, and Shujen.
The Legion of Grandmaster's knight, Toril O'Connell, was behind them; mainly because of their nature, but also not. As the Legions' premier combat unit, the Agents of the Undying Night had been in their tempest castle, high above Ligin, where they developed a strict 72 hour training regime with two days of rest after; twice a week. With one session in garrison and the other in the field, they've been constantly honing their skills while developing their minds and spirits through studies, chores, and meditations in their time off.
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Now, they were to do the same. General Mide was to recreate what she saw in the Game within their simulation rooms and training fields to mimic Rharian terrain and develop battle tactics against the wood elves on their home turf; and any of their potential allies. Likewise, General Wangum was to have the Cogs push through Mazi with haste, skip across Vruria to pave the roads of Ligin, and arrive in Kasia to give the natives- particularly the dwarves- the tools to hit their enemies where it hurt the most.
Taking the Cogs' place in Mazi would be the 4th Legion, whose Imperator was a curiosity to me. She, too, was an Imperial Princess. But she had Amazonian blood flowing in her and was my dad's political equal in Maru; a place I'd never been. Moreover, she recently took an oath to become a paladin, hence her migration to Mazi, where hidden warehouses of ICE and Pascal Industries vehicles sat waiting for the Vulcans to introduce them to the barbaric locals. As such, General Virgilius had but one order - keep the barbarians away from Vruria.
The 5th and 6th Legions operated as mirrors, both in terms of location and principle. General Kausalya was to have a group of her Deliverers, stationed at the sky's edge, sent down to Chaulort to contact the Principality's ruling class whereas General Grozdan would remain in their uma with the staff while they relocated to the Shores of Redagh, ensuring their Imperator would become the first Legionary to reach the end of an evolutionary path. Their subordinate Keepers, scattered far and wide across the Peninsula's extreme mana zones, were to recruit more members while encouraging the growth of dungeons and monster lairs throughout.
It was strange to give orders to the vampyr who raised me. Being a Legion of Oracles, Weavers, and Holy Warriors, their aspirations were dictated by faith. Their faith dictated they spread the glory of the World Weaver by liberating and uplifting the oppressed who dwelled on the surface. As such, the only order for General Dufort was to have the 7th Legion continue thrumming the moonlight that fell on the sleeping Rharian denizens and residents, giving the oppressed dreams and visions that would guide them to liberation; giving their oppressors nightmares of the Bloodmoon that would soon haunt them.
Admiral Riptide was the busiest of our session, for he was organizing the Lunarians around the pirate-occupied Isle Falna, in the outlet of Chaulort Bay and overseeing the submerged mountain staring down Rhar. Good on its own, yet more could be done. Thus, a detachment was to be sent off to the east, where they would find a coastal dwelling sea beast that may be persuaded to their side, given their Imperator's perks. Two more detachments were sent into the depths of the bay, where they would push deeper into the fjord and come upon the capital of Crowmond. One would remain and another would continue down the rivers to pass the border into Kasia, where they would continue out into the sea from the Peninsula's southern-most point to rendezvous with the fleets in the coming weeks.
Akin to the 5th and 6th Legions, the opposite was to happen to the Sky Riders- or, as they now called themselves, the Sky Skimmers. Only a small, elite detachment would remain in their station above Rhar. General Fausta would have the rest of the 10th Legion scattered to the skies above each country in the Peninsula to continue realm-wide cartographic, intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance efforts by training the locals to fly under their own power.
The 8th Legion, on the other hand, was stationed below us, in the Deep Dark, acting on orders from the Owl, just as the 11th Legion was above us, in Shujen, acting on orders from the Exalted Gloom.
Summarization; my turn was over, so I stepped out of the Game to find my upgrades complete, yet it took longer than I suspected. My optics rebooted to reveal it was noon, and I had many missed reports from my crew. Mostly status updates. Those were acknowledged before I stirred, leaving an overdue task to prioritize and a concern to address later.
Thankfully, Etyl was nowhere to be found before I warped out of the Halls. It was always a fun feeling. Like flipping into a different reality that could sometimes take the breath away. This time was one such case. I landed to see the effect of Geri's trek across the Shujen wildlands. Or perhaps the sky. The gloomy blanket of sterile air and white snow had given way to a dozen smells, pushed around by the moderately strong and warm breezes accented by the buzzes, chirps, and rummaging of a hundred springtime animals climbing from their burrows. Then there came… a ripple or twang. Not quite a warble like my warping, but something close enough to it.
Regretfully, it seemed my processors still weren't up to speed, for I was reminded of my once-lost armored exoskeleton and all the things that came with it far too late. My nape-mounted optics, namely. Thinking it was still absent saw me turn about and come eye to crimson eye with not one but three drow. Thankfully, text and images appeared like flies around their heads before I could scan them, allowing me to focus on their gear. All of them were children of Ilar and children they were still considered. Two monks, aged 66 and 51, accompanied a female of 19 years, dressed in their standard clerical plate armor; mithral crafted ridiculously thin to resemble an ostentatious piece of spider chitin, adorned with many folded layers of spider silk, also woven with mithral.
Impressive.
"That yellow glow to your eyes. What was it?"
"I was admiring your armor." I had to tune my emotional sensitivity down to not sound too snarky. That, however, resulted in a deadpan tone that I was sure would bother her. Not that I cared. I wanted not to be having this conversation.
"I am Aufa Za'Darmondiel. Fourth daughter of Ilar Za'Darmondiel, third daughter of High Matron Etyl."
I looked at the two others, assuming they would introduce themselves next. Yet they seemed reluctant to even look into my eyes. "Iris Cole," I said. Then the two males spoke up.
"First Son of Ilar, Antton."
"Second Son of Ilar, Aldo."
"We are most curious about you, the Destroyer's adopted human daughter," Aufa stated with no veils for her contempt, approaching with her fist held over her heart- over the sprawled spider of her goddess. "May we accompany you?"
"If you can keep up," was all I said before warping to Dryndrabethei.
It wasn't far, yet I was still disappointed to hear the twang behind me announce their presence, so much so that I debated turning my emotional settings down even more. Alas, they were required to gain a full impression of the changes to the city. Few things ever went as planned, however. I instead got to work integrating circuits and sensors into guide posts of wood while my mind split its processes to open a channel to my crew in the Cuttleship. First to look upon their digitized faces, second to think back on our memories as an extended family and reflect on how far we've all come; how much we've grown.
It was astounding. And yet, post-evolution, I was lost; me, the divine mother of augmented beings.
With tact, I voiced my concerns- the gut feeling that told me not to intake the Voney Wasps royal jelly and become like the augmented Apis. Despite my squad- my party- doing the same, something told me not to. Perhaps, I suggested, it was because the creatures they picked were a part of the ArcaTech's domain. Erja drank the 'venom' of a trapdoor spider. Margo ate the 'fungus' of the leaf-cutter ants. Aqsa was stung by a wasp queen. Gaheris was bitten by a jumping spider. Kane got marked by beavers. Even Deeke had his termites waiting to nest within him once he finished marching through Nydorden Halls, eager to construct the ki-powered drives of his Machine Principle.
Everyone except Deeke was in the Cuttleship as a result. Encased in webs, cocoons, or bundles of sticks while their internal hardware changed to reflect their chosen creatures. Creatures I believed to be in the ArcaTech's domain. Wrongly so.
Like any good crew, they brought up interesting points as to why I was wrong. My paladin, Callie Payne, reminded me that all augmented creatures were part of my domain, and integrating such things wasn't my immediate priority. Truly enough, the immediate task of my Clerical Druid class was to create a mortal domain for my creatures. The problem was, there were lands with an abundance of waste on the Peninsula. Not so in the Darkworld, however.
It was then that my primary and secondary processes switched. At the forefront of my mind were Aufa and the other two, who were gawking at the Warp Post that had just implanted itself into the ground and built a dais for itself. I told them what it was before they could ask, then connected the post to the network before warping to Lainoara's Splint to repeat the act. Meanwhile, my secondary processes listened to Elias' recount of my dad's memories. Everyone, even his ancestors, expected him to raise the undead the moment he figured out how to. Yet, he was patient. He waited until an opportunity for greatness presented itself. That came when Carbury attacked him. Zalan then suggested that was what was responsible for him becoming a god of nature, but I disagreed, stating it was because he introduced the concept of biomimicry into this universe and had always had a fondness for nature. Simultaneously, my voice was interacting with Aufa, pointing out the changes to the two cities in which we'd been and the ones we were soon to visit; the first being a mock battle zone for urban combat against the undead, a tourist attraction for the neighboring countries.
"Yes. And less chaos," was her answer to that.
"You see some chaos soon enough," was mine.
She had a similar reaction to the demo yards around us and much the same in the defensive driving courses snaking between Charrlagith and the capital of Nuven Bemarra, now a more than prosperous port city of industry than ever before.
Her interest seemed more in me and the Warp Points I was placing everywhere, however. Not that she even tried to understand how they worked. It was like I was a show to her. A performance interrupted by the sheer indifference shown to her by the locals.
They were thriving under the Glutton's guidance from the shadows. They called Zaraxus King and referred to the holy undead in the frozen world above as Lords, often paradoxically describing them as indifferent but fair when asked. It was an enigma to her, the surface dwellers and their agreement with their undead overlords. Many products made by undead hands were sold to the citizens at low costs. Their profits were sent right back to the people as a stipend or basic allowance, divided equally among all residents. A fraction was reserved for international trading or to use Ed's transport network to explore surrounding lands. A positive feedback loop Aufa couldn't see the value of. One she wouldn't see the merit of. Not when she'd been raised to believe chaos and manipulation were the only ways to triumph.
Just like Etan said. Soon, though, she would find another way. She, her brothers, and many more drow of Zimysta Falls.