With the sigil in her, four hours was enough for two days.

Joan thought that Fomoria’s ability to go for so long without rest was admirable, she thought of all the things that she could get done.

What she didn’t think about was how lonely it could be, how boring.

Few people remained up so late, but she didn’t want to go to the red light district or some tavern.

One could only work for so long before they had enough before they needed to refresh their mind with slumber.

She tried reading books, something she had loved once, but it didn’t feel right anymore.

But now she had taken part in too many stories of her own, she couldn’t feel the excitement that she once did.

So she started to wander the halls, and found herself making a loop, stopping right in front of his door.

More than once she raised her hand to knock, but couldn’t bring herself to bother him, if he was even inside.

Instead, she went down to the kitchen.

The regular chiefs were Plest who had worked in the mansion for many years, but at night, so that they didn’t need to be bothered if he wanted something to eat, which he did most nights, there were golems that could make simple meals.

They could do anything that Fomoria could, which was a fair amount, but he limited them intentionally so the Plest wouldn’t be jealous.

The thought came to him often about what Anon said to him, that he didn’t need these people, that his nation was a zoo of guilt.

But Joan knew nothing of this, and simply asked that it make her a hash mix of potatoes with eggs and sausage to put on toast.

Dague weren't naturally big eaters, and she hadn’t been either, not until now; seeing the large plate empty so quickly made her queasy.

She tried to talk to the golem, but she knew that they were pre set, that Fomoria gave them thousands of responses and even some kind of system that could slightly change how it responded to appear smarter than it was, but it just felt hollow.

When she returned to her room, she laid back down, hoping that the meal would make her sleepy.

But when she turned on her side, in the corner of the room, Fomoria sat in the chair.

“In the chest at the foot of your bed is your new armor, along with a new sword. I’ve given the other to be mounted in Larenzac’s office.”

“How do you deal with being awake so long?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s… lonely, like I’m walking somewhere that should be alive. This place, it's too quiet, it isn’t how I remember.”

“I work.”

“You can’t really just do that all the time, you must-”

“When I was 14, I went two weeks without speaking to another soul once. I only learned later when it was pointed out to me that it is strange to be completely unaffected by that.

I crave relationships with other living beings more now than I did then.”

He put his finger near his shoulder and the Hornet Bird jumped onto it.

“But still I am unbothered by a lack of contact if I am working towards a goal, time seems to fade away.

Perhaps you will become used to this.”

“You…”

She let her voice hang, wondering if she began something dangerous.

He let her ruminate on her words, on if she should continue.

“I heard from Mercedes, you were with another woman, but that she left not long ago.”

“Yes.”

“Do you still… have some feelings for me? Is that why you spared me?”

She saw his chest raise and lower quickly, his silent laugh soon became vocalized.

Then he suddenly stopped, no winding down, just an end.

“No. I spared you because I had already forgiven you, and you taught me a very important lesson.”

“Which was?”

He looked her in the eyes, but she couldn’t see him in them, they were searching for something else.

“I have a village of Fomorians, right now I have a marshall to overlook them.

Would you like to visit them? They sleep even less than I do.”

“I suppose I would be interested in that.”

“Put on your new armor and sword.”

The Fomorians mostly just mulled about.

The children didn’t play anything but war games, the women did little but sew and cook.

Their culture was one of fighting and raiding, but Fomoria didn’t let them leave their village and they were worried that if they taught magic that he would steal it from them.

This was true of course, the marshall kept a close eye on them in the hopes that he would learn how to properly impart his empathy to more magic.

Anybody could make an array that made people not want to go somewhere, but the Fomorian arrays were a masterpiece, even a powerful mage could be turned back if didn’t know the array was there.

As a defensive tool, it was very useful, but he had other plans.

One of the women came near him.

She was around his age, slightly older if he had to guess by the hue of her soul.

“Greetings, little brother, I-”

“I have three sisters, no more.”

Children began to whimper, infants cried, and most others simply fled.

The woman got on her knees, her elbows and face touched the ground as she begged.

“Spare me, please, I, I didn’t mean it.”

“I’m not going to kill you, I was just stating my opinion on our familial bonds, which is to say there are none.”

He cocked his head to the side, wondering why he had caused such a reaction.

Yes, he was upset, but he didn’t think that he was that upset.

The shadows hadn’t leapt from the ground, nor had they darkened, he just showed some disagreement.

“Tell me, what do you feel?”

“Rage, unending rage.”

“I didn’t think my reaction was so strong.”

“You’ve no filter.”

“No, I don’t have my emotional feeding turned on, and I’ve tuned my power lower. Is that not enough?”

“Of course, I must simply be mistaken, I’m very sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Clearly my self-taught empathic abilities aren’t nearly to the level of your people.

Could I be taught better?”

He reached down, offering her a hand, his anger faded into curiosity and everyone calmed down.

She trembled as she took it, and he helped her off the ground.

“They would rather not teach you.”

“But who would? You?”

“It isn’t my place to-”

Fomoria called the marshall over.

“Bring me to the community leader. Joan, you may wander as you wish, speak to them.”

“Shouldn’t I-”

“This is business, I don’t even know what to do with you yet.”

She had to admit, it hurt that he didn’t want her to come with him.

Joan was left there with the woman.

“What is your name?”

“I am Darnia, daughter of Darrath, 11th of his name.”

“What do you do for fun around here?”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“We train in hand to hand combat forms.”

“Is that all?”

“I enjoy sculpting snow.”

“That is interesting. May I see them?”

“A trade. Information.”

Joan hadn’t noticed it, not at first, but the moment Fomoria said he didn’t know what to do with her, Darnia read it as her not being someone with real power.

If someone didn’t have power over them, then that meant they were to be used, tricked, anything but respected.

“What information?”

“About Darrath.”

“Well, he’s 3’6, large red eyes-”

“That is not Darrath.”

“Oh, you meant Har- I mean Fomoria.”

“Darrath, 12th of his name. How was he as a child?”

“I only know a few things that he told me, but he was gentle, then he went away, and when he came back he wasn’t allowed to be anymore.”

“He has someone above him?”

“Inside the veil, in Ragne. He couldn’t be gentle because the world did not let him anymore.”

“So he grew up?”

“He might say it like that.”

“Is he close with his family?”

“Very close. He… he has done many things in defense of them.”

“Who is the Darrath you were talking about?”

“Fomoria’s son, not by blood, but from a Pixie.”

The woman’s eyes went wide, and she began to leave.

“Oh, are we going to the sculptures now?”

“Of course.”

They knew that she could be tricked, so they became far more warm to her, the children asked to play in the snow and toss stones, the women showed her Fomorian sewing patterns, all the while asking questions.

Childish innocence was a great cover for questions about magic and soldiers.

The women wanted to know about the people of the empire, their fashion and food, if Fomoria had a lover, things of the nature that she questioned very little.

The issue came with the men.

Fomorian courting was more of a struggle, and when one of them tried his idea of seduction, Joan slapped the man.

He replied with a soul striking spell, only for him to instead have his hand turn necrotic.

The screams brought unwanted attention to her.

One of the other men tried to strike her, but she cut him off, at the knees that is.

Before it turned into a complete brawl, Fomoria and his marshall appeared, crashing through the wall of the building they were in like it was paper.

“Explain what happened here.”

“This man tried to grab me. I pushed him away and slapped him. He touched me again, but then he fell to the ground with a blackened hand. This one tried to hit me and I defended myself.”

He healed both men, but not without also binding them in stone.

“These two, what do you know about them?”

He directed his question to the marshall, not Joan.

“No signs of them being overly violent, but only by Fomorian standards.

I believe this was a cultural exchange, nothing serious.”

“Apologize to her.”

The first man, with his necrotic hand, spoke.

“This woman doesn’t know her place, I am one of the best remaining warriors, she should be glad to-”

Fomoria released the man, then he took off his own shirt.

“So, your strength means that she doesn’t deserve an apology?”

The man and the others.instantly realized where this was going.

“Wa-wait, I mean-”

Fomoria punched him in the mouth, and the man spit up blood and teeth.

He curled up on the ground, knowing that he had no chance of fighting back.

His forearms fractured after being kicked, his attempts to protect his chest were just attempts.

“How quickly you turn to a quivering dog when you no longer believe you are strong.”

Fomoria reached down and the man tried to hit him with a soul attack; he didn’t want to die without fighting back at the end.

Yet the attack fizzled out quickly, Fomoria’s soul defenses were beyond anything this man could even scratch.

When Fomoria touched him, instead of turning into a cloud of gore, as would happen if he countered with his own soul attack, he was quickly healed, his teeth began to slowly grow back, and his bones started to mend.

“Strength is to protect those without it, not something to be abused. I am going to ignore that you tried to kill me, and her, because you are from a culture that says what you tried to do is alright, but it isn’t.”

He helped the man back to his feet, then took Joan and left.

She was happy to see him acting how she expected him to.

Yes, he broke the man’s teeth and arms, but he healed him and then left with a lesson.

It was better than shoving his hand through the man’s eyesockets and scrambling his brains.

“Thank you.”

“I should’ve explained before we left, don’t interact with Fomorian men. For them, they take wives, but willingness is optional. Now.”

He placed his hand on her stomach.

“What are you doing? I’m not pregnant, I’ve not been with anyone in-”

“Shhhhh.”

A shiver ran up her spine, a fever began to quickly appear, and her knees felt weak.

Fomoria looked to be straining himself doing something, and she was worried that the Fomorian had put some kind of curse on her that he had to break.

The moment his hand came off of her, she began to feel better.

“The weapon sigil interacts with the soul better than I thought. An automatic counter system, very useful.”

She fluttered her eyes, trying to wake back up.

“Huh?”

“Sorry, I had to test out the defenses that it granted you.”

He showed her his blackened fingertips.

“What did you do to me?”

“I made light proddings into your soul. I wanted to make sure that it was selective in what magic would be blocked and countered. I believe that the sigil knows what I can do, and generally what magic is harmful or just exploratory. When I used offensive magic, very light I assure you, it instantly reacted.

When I used soul searching to just look through your soul it didn’t do anything. Yet when I soul searched and poked at you in a way that could cause harm, it hesitated, trying to discover my intent.

When you felt ill from the magic, it- Are you listening?”

“I don’t understand this. I mean, I do understand what you’ve said, because it is in simple enough terms.

But I don’t understand why you would do that to me.”

“It was a simple test.”

“You should’ve asked me.”

He sighed.

“You are right, I failed to do so. I believe that I have been becoming more… disconnected.

Seeing the future when I dream, this sigil, they are changing me.”

“Alright. I think that I have had enough for tonight, this has tired me out.”

“Children’s books.”

“What?”

“When I can’t sleep, I read children’s books, ones that my mother would read to me.”

Fomoria called Xol for advice, and the Lich appeared quickly thereafter.

“What magic might I impart on you this day?”

“How do I better reconnect myself with normal people?”

Xol laughed for longer than he should’ve.

“Wait, you aren’t joking? Why would you want to connect with them? You are a brilliant mind, moreso talented with magic than me, they have little to offer you.”

“I don’t want to connect to them like that. Earlier I started experimenting on Joan without asking her, my curiosity was caught and I just did it without thinking about how she feels about it.”

Xol sighed.

“I know you don’t, you want someone who… you want someone like Marigold.”

“I don’t want to find another lover, a wife.”

“Yes you do. Let me call Marigold.”

Two of the three strongest non-deities on the planet were sitting there, ready to give advice to a depressive mentally unstable 19 year old who can level cities.

Xol didn’t want to be there, but he was a friend, and that came with responsibilities.

“Harlan, it’s-”

“Please, I go by Fomoria now.”

“I think that is part of your problem. Your name is part of who you are, and even if you don’t think about it, abandoning who you are just to please other people-”

“That isn’t why I did it.”

“If you really didn’t care about them, then you would continue as Harlan, to hell with how they have to fumble their words.”

“So what, I should tell everyone that I made a mistake and they can start calling me by my first name again? Or should I make a new name?”

“No, that isn’t it, you’d just spiral like you always do and you’d end up with more names than The Darkness. The way you spoke there, that brings me to my next point. I know I told you about how Yggdra and I knew each other, and that I think you would make a good ruler. But again, you are trying to please others.

You don’t want to go back to being Harlan because then you would look fickle, one day deciding to change how others refer to you and then switching back later.”

“So what is the solution?”

“You’ve always been looking for answers to very complex questions that don’t always have them.

What I can tell you is that pushing people away isn’t the answer. You can’t harden your heart, you need to open it. Being this harsh emperor who is unfazed by the violence and can look at people as being numbers, as collateral for a better world, that isn’t you, that sounds like the Yggdra you knew without the dulling edge that is Sepul. Some people can be alone, you can’t.”

“Right, back to finding someone who I can love, great, the unending search.”

“Think about someone who you already know who you can connect with, who understands being different from humans, who has mental abilities and who isn’t afraid to tell you when you’re wrong and force you back on your right path.”

“Ximena is already engaged to Claude.”

Xol couldn’t help but make a small laugh, turning his head to the side and trying to cover it with a cough.

“I meant Yara. I… I haven’t been allowed to come here often, but you’ve stayed on my mind still, and I’ve run through everyone that I thought could be compatible with you for when Anon left.”

She knew in an instant that he knew, that look in his eyes poked at something inside of her.

He raised his voice, but kept from yelling, she wouldn’t do that to him, not her.

“Did you know that she was going to leave me?”

“That isn’t what I meant, I was-”

Xol put his hand on hers.

“Honey, don’t do that, not to him. We both knew that you and Anon wouldn’t last. She hates civilization, you are an emperor. She’s a cold hearted assassin who changes faces like you change your body.

She suffered a serious soul injury that crippled her ability to use magic, and was sent to you so she could have it fixed. Why she went with this plan, these tricks, I don’t know, I can’t read her mind.”

The look in his eyes broke her heart, she could only think of her son, dying by her hand, confusion and anger.

He left through a void gate, where she didn’t know.

Xol tried to console her.

“He-”

“Why did you have to tell him? Why?”

“Because I give a shit.”

----------------------------------------

Balor, or as he was known professionally, The Shade, stood there with two women, a bloody mace, and a man with his eyes hanging from broken sockets..

“Put the head in a box, give it to the next man I put in charge here.”

They nodded, it wasn’t the first time they were involved in something like this.

It hardly seemed right to ruin such a nice carpet, but, the man had been slowly siphoning funds away from his business by claiming it was just spillage, reporting it as losses.

Had he not been such a fool and admitted it under questioning, Balor would’ve had no real proof however.

When he was finished for the day, Dahlia picked him up, though not by his choice.

Rosewell had something that she wanted Balor to try, something that would hopefully improve his odds against Nulson if he encountered him in person.