Morgrun stared at the seemingly innocuous cave wall, sweat dripping from his brow, his hands balled into fists. A group of fellow dwarves stood behind him, all equally frozen in place, all equally tensed and ready to run.
All an animal would see was a cave wall, if that, as these tunnels were lit by little but the faint smatterings of glowstone the family of dwarves had smashed from a distant rock face. But the dwarves, and any other sapient life on Excelsior would get a message in their heads telling them they were looking at a bullet snake.
Now, none of them really knew what a bullet snake was, their tendency to hide to ambush prey meant Aomy hadn’t noticed them to update the knowledge gifted the first generation of sapient life. What Aomy also didn’t know was that none of Naturum’s creatures attacked sapients unless provoked. This fact would have really helped the panic-stricken dwarves.
As amusing as it would be for an outside observer to witness these tough bearded fellows shaking with terror at a wall, with the only “danger” being a snake patiently waiting for them to move away so they’d stop scaring away the bats the snake was hungry for, it was an unfortunate truth that these dwarves were in trouble.
They’d been wandering for hours, with no sign of an oasis anywhere, and no oasis meant no tools and no tools meant no edible food. Unless bats could be eaten raw. The dwarves weren’t keen to test that.
And so, the dwarves continued to stand motionless and who knows what would befall them if they were left unaided. It is unlikely they would stand forever until they starved, but if they procrastinated backing away for too long that might happen anyway. Perhaps one of them would provoke the snake and have their eye taken out by the creatures’ claws. Perhaps a monster would appear, prompting a hunter wurm to collapse the tunnel and force the dwarves to flee or be crushed.
Fortunately, there is little need to speculate, as help was soon to arrive. The dwarves heard a rumbling, not unlike those heard by the horrible wurms that had crushed many of their kind. They looked wearily between each other, mentally debating fleeing before a large figure burst through the wall the dwarves had been so scared of.
Small chunks of debris and a perplexed snake flew into the dwarves, and they shielded their eyes, both from the projectiles that seemed to inexplicably avoid them, but also from the radiant blue light that now filled the cavern. The light faded, and blinking the dwarves looked up at their saviour. Golden wings unfurled and mighty, an angel stood before them.
Before any of them could react, the angel bowed a bow full of flourish and grace and then returned to his full, impressively tall (for a dwarf) height.
“Come with me, and I shall lead you towards salvation!” the being boldly cried. “Call on me, and I shall bring you happiness!”
He turned his back and began to march down the corridor that he had barrelled through to reach the dwarves, pausing halfway down to turn his head back to see if the dwarves were following. Morgrun exchanged a glance between the rest of his shocked platoon of dwarves, before he confidently marched after the angels. Soon a procession of dwarves followed him.
----------------------------------------
Many miles away, a young hufolk rode their horse into an equally young town. Of course, only a day and a half into their creation, all hufolk were young, meaning calling the figure a young hufolk was somewhat a waste of a description. Especially considering all the unusual details that you could describe instead. Such as the fact that the only visible hair they had was their eyebrows. Or the fact their eyes contained such an unparalleled wonder at the town before them.
It's also an equally wasteful description calling the town young, for much the same reason. Although, as the young settlements of Exclesior went, this town hid its youth the best. While you would have to stretch to call it sprawling, it was noticeably a town not a village, with almost all the houses needed to house its population already built.
There were still signs at the edge of the village of construction, a few houses still being built but the speed at which it had been assembled was beyond impressive. A few people even felt free enough to start to paint and personalise their slapdash homes.
Granted, the hufolk riding in thought this may lead to problems later. The houses weren’t high quality and so much would have to be rebuilt when they fell into disrepair. Additionally, the single-minded dedication to house building in even a small town meant that the areas near the centre would have no space to build shops and other necessities, meaning homes would have to be repurposed and their people moved, or else people would have to walk a bloody long way to get to shops built at the edge of town.
Fortunately, shops wouldn’t be needed for a while yet, or at least, shops dedicated to food wouldn’t. The figure saw people hunched over fires preparing the juicy snails that had fallen from the sky the night before. They were in no small supply either.
Along what could be generously called streets in a town not exactly designed and more thrown together were small trenches being dug into the ground. People with makeshift brooms were scraping the splattered snails into said gutters from the floors and rooves for later use and with the commendable depth of the hole, they would be able to keep the streets clean next snail fall so long as enough people swept the bodies into the holes.
That hadn’t been this towns invention. One genius group of hufolk hadn’t made a village and instead had tamed enough horses for them all to spread out across their country, discovering the inventions and adaptions of the then insular villages and sharing them with the next village they came across. Inspired, many hufolk decided to join their journey and spread ideas themselves. That was why the rider was here in fact. What a perfect opportunity to see the world!
“Clive!” a deep voice yelled from across the theoretical street. Sitting upon horses of their own was a muscled man and woman, both waving and hollering. Clive smiled, before quickly adopting a stern expression. Here were their travelling companions. The man, Martha, and the woman, Odysseus.
“You abandoned me!” they called back, dismounting their house to run up to the duo. “The town was in sight for only a second and you abandoned me!”
Martha, face slightly reddened, held a hand behind his head and mumbled “Sorry boss.”
Odysseus however was having none of it and hands on hips replied “You coulda caught up with us anytime. You wanna arrive slow? Then you arrive later.”
Clive shook their head. “We only made it to this town at the time we did because we didn’t race all the way there. The rider who told me about this profession stressed how important it was to not tire out your mount. Otherwise, you won’t make it anywhere.”
“Fair enough boss. But I’m happy I rode ahead. This place is interestin’.”
Martha’s comment was met by enthusiastic nodding from Odysseus. “Yeah. Last night they had a festival.”
Clive quickly scanned through Aomy’s knowledge to work out just what the heck a festival was. Upon finding it, they replied “I see. I presume in celebration of the hufolk’s or the worlds creation?”
“Nah” the wild woman said. “Its in honour of the snail rains. People here are big into Rizzlerizzen- Rizzleritchensteen- The people here call him “The Esteemed God of the Longest, Greatest Name."”
Clive frowned. “They value the snails over their birth?”
“This place was hit by some bad monster attacks with all the people here. Lost a lotta food in the attack. Then, while all hungry, the skies opened their food to them” the muscled man explained.
That made sense to Clive, but something bothered them. Before they could figure it out, Odysseus interjected by yelling “Hey, why didn’t we get a festival back home?! We stayed all huddled up the whole storm!”
Clive’s brows furrowed. “We weren’t sure if the snails were dangerous. I posit that they must have been magically slowed, as from cloud height, snail shells should have hurt.”
Clive wondered why Aomy’s knowledge had been so lacking on snails. Detailed guides were given on how to prepare all kinds of plants and meats, but considering they were the most plentiful food source, information on snails was incredibly limited.
Basically all the information on them was their name, which was now superfluous considering just looking at a snail told you what its name was, as of today. Maybe the gods didn’t communicate much and Rizzleritchensteineonizziism just hadn’t told Aomy about snail rains. And then it clicked.
“Wait, how do these people know who made the snail rains?”
Odysseus looked as surprised as Clive, but fortunately Martha knew enough to explain. “’Parantly, these folks had an immortal visiting their town sometime today. They all wanted to know who to thank for the snails and so the immortal prayed for information on who it was. Turned out it was Rizzlerish- Rizzleritchensteineo… something. The Esteemed God of the Longest, Greatest Name.”
Odysseus looked to her companion, shocked. “How the fuck did you know all that?”
Martha blushed. “I listened in on a coupla’ folk talkin’. Turns out the immortal’s still holed up in the town hall. Yer wanna go look?”
That last part of his sentence was addressed to Clive who was looking more and more curious as the conversation went on.
“Yes, I rather think I do.” After all that was the destination they were heading to anyway, to gather any ideas this towns peoples may have had and spread them to neighbouring towns and other riders, as their professions required. Unbeknownst to them, they weren’t the only one heading to this location.
----------------------------------------
Morgrun’s platoon of dwarves had upgraded to a small army, all following the resplendent angel as he charged through their mountain birthplace, freeing more and more dwarves as he did. Through tunnels and caverns, bare rock and vibrant oasis, no dwarves were left abandoned, and all happily joined the hero’s quest for salvation.
But some, they questioned what they were being saved from. Not many, granted, but some of those born in the light of oases, who hadn’t yet watched their world crumble at the whim of the wurms. The other dwarves were all too eager to vent and explain their plight, but Morgrun wasn’t convinced.
There was more to this, he could swear. Every group of dwarves they found and saved, he’d heard it. Scuttling. Caught out the corner of his eye a dark shape filling in the space the dwarves had left. Something else was claiming the caverns.
Something disgusting. Something insectile, with many legs and strange contorted forms that in the shadows seemed to snap between humanoid and bug. There was no doubt in Morgrun’s mind. They weren’t just being saved from wurms or hostile environments. They were being saved from monsters.
He explained his theory to the man he had been marching alongside since a few stops ago. He was a surprisingly pale person, short even by the standards of those half the size of a hufolk and upon hearing Morgrun’s musings he leaned towards him conspiratorially.
“I reckon yer right about that. Me and the lads have been talking, and they say that harmless creatures, when you see ‘em, their names popped into their head right?”
Morgrun nodded, remembering the bullet snake with expertly concealed embarrassment.
“Yeah, so, those creatures, they don’t attack you unless you attack first, but there are these other creature-like things, which you don’t see the name of. They do attack yer, yer see, and they’ll seek out other forms of life and kill ‘em.”
Morgrun nodded again. “What the people call monsters. I am aware of them.”
The other dwarf leaned in even closer, a menacing grin spreading across his face. “Well, you saw the outlines of those scuttling things, right? Did the name of them appear in yer head?” He leaned back away from Morgrun, his smugness evident.
Morgrun grinned too. To him, that basically confirmed his theory, didn’t it? If they weren’t animals, they must be monsters! Unless of course they were a sapient species like the dwarves, but that disproved his point, so he casually ignored that possibility.
Perhaps, if he’d been given more time to think further, he would have developed this theory, and he could have accepted that sapiapods may not be monsters like he assumed, but with a great crack of rock walls being demolished, the time for theorising was over. Light, bright light, almost divine to the dwarves who’d been kept from the sun for so long, streamed into the tunnel and with a mighty cheer, the dwarves surged out of their mountains.
Morgrun charged forwards with the rest, and stopped, feet now on soft earthen ground and he smiled as he surveyed his surroundings. It was beautiful. Practically paradise to the half-day-old dwarves who’d never known anything else. A strange golden ball hung in the sky, filling all of Morgrun’s sight with such a vibrant colour that easily outshone anything in the underground. And his sight stretched so far too! So much wider than he had imagined possible!
Ahead of him stretched wondrous plains of even ground, dwarves running wildly, enjoying their freedom from the restrictive tunnels, some even rolling about in the grass. Others were content to collapse, relieved, to the ground and stare in awe-struck wonder up at the towering mountains that had been their cage.
Morgrun scanned the horizon, the pale dwarf he had travelled with at his side.
He looked up at Morgrun, concerned, and said “I hate to trouble yer, but that info in our heads says that monsters still show up out here, only when that sun thing becomes some moon thing. Which may happen soon.”
Morgrun smiled down at him. “I shouldn’t worry about that my friend.” He turned his head and with a shout, addressed all the dwarves of Excelsior. “Our journey is not over yet!” he cried, finger pointed to the edge of vision. “Our saviour has left a town for our protection. My fellow dwarves! Resume your charge!”
If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
The dwarves didn’t need telling twice. With a wild shout of their own, the amassed army of ex-mountain dwellers began to dash toward the houses beyond the plains, whooping and hollering, still exhilarated by the wonder of this new world.
----------------------------------------
“Fancy a snail, rider?” A tall man, hair what Aomy’s knowledge called a “bowl cut” offered Clive a squishy snail from a bowl of the things. They politely declined and resumed their somewhat antsy sitting in the town hall.
It was one of the few buildings not a house in this hastily built, yet unnamed, town, but if you presumed that meant the people here spent any greater length of time on it, you’d be mistaken. It was cramped and ramshackle and felt more like a hut than a hall. Still, its mere existence was an oddity in the still fresh universe Clive had been born in, so they savoured its uniqueness as best they could, while anxiously awaiting the conversation before them to reach a conclusion.
“Shame you had no new information. Woulda loved to know more than just what the old rider said.” Despite the tendency for sentences like this to be somewhat passive-aggressive, the delivery implied the statement was fully earnest and not accusatory. It wasn’t delivered by the bowl cut man. If his hair was likened to an upturned bowl, this one’s hair should be likened to an uncontrollable explosion.
They were both part of what was theoretically the ruling body of this town. What this really meant in this age before voting, councils, mayors, ministers or kings, was they were the people who’d volunteered to do all the fiddly town planning, idea implementing stuff. Bowl cut was most enthused about the projects to ensure snail consumption lasted till next snail fall, while explosive hair had pretty much single handily ran the festival.
They weren’t the focus of this particular meeting that Clive had asked to sit in on. The focus stood in the centre of the small space, penned in by the chairs of the other volunteer leaders. His hair was a bright blue, a sign he was not a hufolk, but an immortal, and his eyes were wild. This was Zach, a worshiper of Aomy.
“C’mon!” he yelled. “I did that whole praying thing for you bozos! You gotta help me!”
A red face town planner, focused on the boring role of resource management spluttered “We can’t go gallivanting of on your wild expeditions. We have our hands full establishing a living space for all these people as is!”
“Oh, pardon my rudeness, good sir, but fuck that!” cried the immortal. “I’ll have you know, I’m on a divine mission from the gods. Yes, I know, slather me with admiration, its pretty fucking cool, but it means I need to go into those mountains! There don’t seem to be any entrances, so pretty please, use some of your resources to break a hole into them and fulfil the wills of the almighty!”
Clive sighed. They really wanted to spread the knowledge the riders had accrued to the people in the mountains, mostly because they just wanted to explore the caves, so it was getting increasingly hard to agree with the much more sensible position of the townspeople, even though they were indubitably in the right.
Bowl cut stopped guzzling snails from his bowl for a second to look up. “When the gods gave you this task, did they specify a time limit? Or can you report back whenever?”
Zach paused. “Okay, I can report back whenever. But I’d reaaalllly like to go now.”
“I believe that settles the matter” announced red-faced man, as the group nodded and began to stand and prepare to leave.
“What? No! Don’t go!” cried Zach.
The leaders tried to ignore him, as sympathetic as the more adventurous at heart where, until red-faced man looked out the window.
The blood rushed out his head, transforming him into pale-faced man. “T-there’s something approaching!” he stammered. “An army of short people!”
Zach laughed, genuinely. “Ha! Thought you could distract me with something as silly as that! Oh, you wily lot, can’t stay made at ya! Wasn’t born yesterday though!” The two-day old man flashed a smile at the room full of people born yesterday, until he saw them all scramble over to the window. “Oh, you’re serious aren’t you.”
----------------------------------------
There it was. It wasn’t as grand or awe-inspiring as Morgrun expected it would be, and a critic may even call the whole place prone to imminent collapse, but still Morgrun’s face lit up with glee. It was a settlement far larger in scope than any Morgrun could have imagined before leaving the caves and besides, any settlement on the surface was beyond exciting because of what it represented. Safety! Comfort! And home.
A crowd of strange tall people began to wearily make their way over. Some seemed curious, others scared of the large group of people running toward them at quite a fast pace.
Morgrun held his hand up and yelled “Dwarves! Halt!”
At once, the army behind him slowed to a standstill and some vaguely important looking people began to push to the front of the crowd.
An absurdly red-faced man stood at their front and, breathless and panting, managed to say “You. Just. Who are you and what do you want here?”
Morgrun bowed low and replied “We are the dwarves, chosen by the gods for salvation. Thank you for building this town for us, we are most grateful.”
“What? What!?” spluttered the man. “We built this for us to live in, you arrogant man! If you were to move in, were would we go?!”
Morgrun turned to his fellow dwarves and sighed. “It appears they don’t understand their own purpose.” He turned back to the hufolk and cried “What part of chosen by the gods do you not understand? The divine angel Drumserra escorted us here! Do you claim it coincidence that a town awaited us once we escaped our would-be tomb? And are you bold enough to claim that the salvation offered by the gods does not extend to shelter and sanctuary to survive a night filled with monsters?”
Both the red-faced man and a bald person looked ready to argue back and attempt to de-escalate the situation respectively, but a muscled one-armed man standing next to the bald one stepped forward before either could speak.
“Don’t worry boss, I’ll handle this goon.” He stared down at Morgrun. “Now, I dunno what funny ideas you got into your tiny little head, but I will personally kick the arse of anyone trying to steal these homes. You hear me?”
The bald fellow ran forward and quickly interjected “Um, of course, we would be more than willing to protect you all for the night, maybe even help you build homes of your own. Maybe that’s the divine reason you were brought here?”
But Morgrun seemed not to even hear them and continued to stare at the tall man trying to frighten him away. “Drumserra” he muttered coldly, seemingly to no one. “You claimed I could call on you to bring me happiness. Well, it would bring me great happiness.” He paused for dramatic effect. “If you hurt this man.”
With a blinding blue flash of light, the angel appeared and the amazed hufolk stared down at this heroic figure none had ever seen before. He turned his head a fraction toward Morgrun, frowning, before he reached out and grabbed Martha’s one remaining hand. Shocked, he froze, unable to react, until Drumserra effortlessly lifted Martha over his head and then slammed him back down into the ground.
With a gasp, the hufolk fell silent. One of them dropped a bowl of snails to the ground and ran over to the downed warrior and cried “Help! Help! Someone who’s looked into the information on healing! He needs medical attention! Quick!”
Two hufolk dashed out the crowd and turned Martha over, revealing his glazed expression. One of them began to gently shake his shoulders while the other asked “Hello. Are you conscious? If you are, please give a sign, such as responding, or moving your eyes.” Martha’s eyes wandered over to the hufolk talking and his mouth moved as if he was trying to talk. “He’s responsive!” the person cried.
It wasn’t a dreadful first attempt at first aid, although it did have one glaring flaw. The first step in the DR ABC mnemonic Aomy had included in the general knowledge given to the first generation of Excelsians was Danger. And these hufolk had not checked for danger.
Morgrun stepped forward and planted his foot down on the defeated Martha and the two hufolk scrambled back into the crowd as the dwarf spoke again. “See what happens to those who resist the will of the holy! Now, I cannot see your species name in my mind, meaning you must either be monsters or like us. I would like to assume the latter, but if you argue or resist in any way, I will realise the opposite must be true. So! I take control of this town. All of you, obey me and my fellow dwarves!”
Clive frowned. These people must definitely be misinterpreting the will of the gods. Aomy would not want this.
Morgrun looked up as the androgynous hufolk took this moment to kneel on the soil before him, so the two were eye level. He registered the barest traces of a frown before a welcoming smile lit up the persons face.
“Of course, of course, you must be right, and I regret we did not realise our purpose sooner!” Their smile widened, full of genuine warmth and friendliness. “Although, I believe our purpose may go deeper than you think.”
Morgrun appraised them, suspicious, but they seemed totally honest. “Go on” he murmured.
“Well, you see, we have lived above long before you even existed, when your mountains were nothing but a void that these people could see from the edge of their town.”
Morgrun’s brows furrowed. “I fail to see you’re point.”
“Well, if you granted us power beyond just following orders, I think we could help.” They spoke faster before Morgrun could interrupt. “I propose a council, led by you of course, and you could veto any decisions made, but if some council members were hufolk they could guide you past the mistakes they had made themselves and teach you what we hufolk have learnt that isn’t available in the information gifted to you by Aomy.” They paused. “Which I presume you have, favoured by the gods of course.”
The dwarfs’ eyes narrowed. “We have that information, yes.”
“Fantastic! I recommend bowl cut, firework hair and red face to be on your council, along with whoever else they recommend.” The figure was gesturing at the ex-volunteer leaders and then paused. “And I recommend those two medics join them.”
The red-faced council appointee spluttered, as he so often did. “We have names you know!”
“Not the time” replied the hufolk Morgrun was addressing. “Of course, appoint as many or as few dwarves as you wish and you will have a trustworthy group to, well, council you on your ruling.”
“And this not a ploy for more power?”
The hufolk shook their head. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“Then I shall accept your proposal, tall person.” Morgrun’s eyes glowed triumphantly, and he yelled “Now, my first order of business! All those but the tall people recommended by the person in front of me, leave this town at once!”
“I have a name you know. Clive” replied Clive to the indignant stare of red face. “And I suggest you don’t do that.”
Morgrun sneered at them. “You are not on my council for a reason. Do not advise me further and leave, lest I conclude you are a shifty fucker trying to manipulate me.”
Clive shook their head emphatically. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare! I just think, claiming just a town wouldn’t measure up to your majesty, nor would it be the full extent of the gods will.”
Morgrun’s eyebrows narrowed once more. “Interesting. Go on.”
“Well, this town is just one corner of a vast, vast land filled with villages. The rider network already stretches far and knowledge of distant places have already been carried to me, but even I still do not know how far existence stretches. I recommend you send your dwarves forth to claim this whole country! Now, of course, I am not a member of the council, but still, I recommend your dwarves stay the night, for safety in numbers, but come morning they set forth to travel to the other settlements!”
Morgrun stayed silent but looked like he was on the verge of being convinced, so Clive continued. “Just think! This town, large as it is, still can’t hold all your dwarves! And if this settlement exists for your chosen dwarves to rule, then surely the others must too.”
“Fine!” cried Morgrun. “We shan’t evict more tall people than necessary. We shall wait until tomorrow before sending dwarves forward to claim new lands.” He glared at Clive. “But you. You are too clever for your own good. You shall leave tonight.”
Clive nodded. “Once my friend is able to leave with me, I shall depart this village for the night.”
Morgrun nodded and began to order around the still frightened townsfolk, as Clive slunk away into the crowd.
----------------------------------------
Night had once more struck Excelsior and Clive, Odysseus and the still winded Martha sat around a campfire beneath a night sky that had yet to invent stars. The moon was out though, and it tried its best to ensure to night sky was as beautiful as it was on Earth, although, to anyone who wasn’t a huge moon fan, they would probably say it was failing.
Martha, gently stroking the head of his sleepy horse mumbled “Boss, why’d you let those dwarves claim the village like that? And encourage them to claim more villages?”
Clive sighed and looked away from the view of the small town from the small hill they were sitting on. Abandoning their current train of thought, which admittedly was mildly disappointedly wishing everywhere had hills as grand as their hometown had, they replied “Mmm. Best I could make of a bad hand.”
Odysseus snapped up from her moon gazing to stare at the two. “The hell d’you mean by that?”
Clive’s downcast eyes gazed at the grass they sat upon. “I mean, those were the best conditions I thought I could negotiate for. That dwarf was set upon complete control. Best I could do was ensure some hufolk had a measure of power and can at least try and make life decent for their fellows.”
Martha nodded. “I see.”
“I don’t!” yelled Ody, her shout sending a flock of nocturnal birds screeching from the forest opposite the town. “Well, I kinda do. The bit about making sure we get a bit of say. But you sent more dwarves off to claim more land? Nuts!”
Clive smiled, albeit bitterly. “I thought that was quite smart actually. When the dwarves leave, many hufolk will still have houses, especially if the townsfolk do as I recommended and begin constructing new houses for the dwarves who want to stay. If those who are still evicted choose to build a new home for themselves in the morning, most hufolk shouldn’t have to abandon their hometown.”
“As a bonus” Clive continued. “I can catch any dwarves on the road and convince them not to terrorize other villages. Most seemed as shocked as the hufolk were when you were thrown about, Martha.” The bitterness left their smile a little and their eyes shone with true hope. “I really do think I can encourage most of them to follow Aomy’s guidelines for civilisations.”
The muscled man winced, remembering the beatdown he’d received. “Mmm. That the plan now then boss? Cease rider-ing and get all those dwarves to be good?”
Clive sighed, and a bit of the light left their eyes. “Unless I’m granted to ability to magically travel whole countries at great speed, then yes. That and ride into town and try to help the dwarves there. Maybe even pray that my assessment that their leader was a mad zealot drunk on power is wrong and I can convince him to change his ways.
“Hey, maybe you could pray for cool travel magic! That’d be cool!” Odysseus grinned.
“I believe only immortals can pray and contact gods. I vaguely remember that being in Aomy’s information somewhere” replied Clive.
“Hey, can’t hurt to try!”
Martha was ignoring this back and forth, deep in thought. “Clive” he mumbled. “Didn’t you agree to leave that town? How’re you gonna ride back in?”
“Now, that’s easy.” Clive grinned, with no trace of the bitterness or the wanderlust, and instead just the mischievous grin of a trickster. “I only ever agreed to leave for the night!”
Martha thought back on that conversation and then began to laugh a deep booming laugh. “Oh, so you did. I can’t wait to see the look on their faces!”
Odysseus quickly joined in the laughter. “And I thought the shock the dwarves had when day suddenly switched to night was funny enough! Oh, tomorrow will be a day to remember!”
Clive leaned back, completely content. “Indeed. Speaking of tomorrow, I wish to get some rest before it. Goodnight?”
“Goodnight!” chorused the warriors and strode off into the woods to give Clive some quiet while they sparred.
Clive closed their eyes and rolled away from the dying campfire. And as they drifted off to sleep, they oh so desperately called out to their goddess, praying that she let them see the world like they wished.
----------------------------------------
Aomy lay alone on her bed, tossing and turning. The relief from saving the dwarves had faded and the doubts had truly began to settle in. Was she in the right making sapiapods marginally stronger to other races? Was she truly to blame for the condition of the dwarves? Was she… was she responsible for their deaths?
There should be no way a prayer reached her. No system was in place to do so. But as she doubted herself, she subconsciously reached out for voices, the people from her world who would give her feedback. And a faint voice hit her.
It was the voice of a hufolk. An androgynous voice, that Aomy remembered matched their face, from a small village that had made her feel loved. It asked to travel, to see the world, and Aomy remembered her own desire to see the world that had led to that village. Sure, it had been mostly justified as an attempt to clear her head at the time, but Aomy had just wanted to see the country Loma had made, and so, perhaps their situations were similar.
Besides, that village held the memory of the one time since becoming trapped in her new world that Aomy had felt remotely worthy of her position. She smiled. Granting the ability to ride horses faster was hardly going to violate her contract now, was it?