Finnikin broke off from his fellow Feeders and made his way over to the narrow tower which housed the Seed. The tower was hewn directly from the milky stone walls of the seedfolk’s cavernous home such that it wasn’t really a freestanding structure. Being a literal part of the walls of the chamber, every knuckle of the tower’s surface was coated in soft vegetation boasting bright leaves of every color, and it was even interspersed with the occasional jagged plant, some even out-massing trees. While the Seed maintained soft dominance in the seedfolk’s oasis, jagged organisms weren’t entirely barred. Finnikin didn’t understand why this was, but he never really questioned it.
Though not near the multi-tiered cascading waterfall that the folk had harnessed for their irrigation channels, there were many other countless brooks that spilled into their home via other sources. The tower itself laid directly beneath several small waterfalls; for a large structure such as this, it was inevitable. The mineral-rich falling water kept the dense climbing vegetation moist and fueled the propagation of brilliant reef-like crystalline jagged flora and their specialized consumers.
It really was an ideal example of the seedfolk’s favored aesthetic; life everywhere.
The Seed’s abode didn’t feature a contingent of guards as no seedfolk would dare harm it. Any large group of Others would be noticed long before they made it into the oasis anyway. Still, there was a singular mage who kept a lookout for covert intruders.
Finn passed by the mage without incident, he knew that an upstanding seedfolk such as Finn wouldn’t come to the Seed without a good reason; such was the way of their community. Walking through the threshold of the loosely hinged and unadorned crystalline green crustwood entry gate, Finnikin entered the first floor of the tower. This was the home of the Seed, as such, it featured such mundane objects as sitting furniture and potted plants. Also present were the decidedly more luxurious runic lighting fixtures that most families didn’t own any more than one or two of.
Finn had never been in here before, and though he’d known in advance what to expect, he was surprised by how…normal everything was. Ascending the, this time normal, wooden ladder, he ascended to the second story where he would speak with the Seed. Why that wasn’t on the first floor, was beyond him.
The Seed didn’t have any servants, no one did, really, so he made his way over to a clearly demarcated rope at the edge of the room that would ring a bell; notifying the Seed who was presumably in their upper quarters. Pulling down on the rope, a strident sound rung out from above. He took a seat in a fungiwood chair; it was well known that the Seed didn’t much care for formalities.
The floors and ceilings were comprised of rafter-lofted thin planks, so Finn could easily hear the Seed moving about as it came down to meet him.
Hearing a metal latch disengaging on the trapdoor above another ladder at the other end of the room, he watched two middle-aged seedfolk climb down; a man and a woman. Glancing over to him, they took a seat at the table he was already seated at.
All told, they were normal looking people, except for one key difference; in the center of each of their chests was a small outward facing shallow brass bowl recessed into their bodies. The fur around the implants was mismatched, a clear sign that the boundary had festered long ago. The insides of the bowls were lined with intricate silver-inlaid runescript. These were the Casings crafted by their Seed’s progenitor.
The only difference between them is that the woman’s Casing contained a small opaque red crystal; the Radicle of the Seed.
These two people are married, but together unified, they Are the Seed.
Indeed, a Seed is always comprised of two married individuals who take turns housing the Radicle; carrying it puts a low mental strain on them, so they have to take breaks. Their bond is strengthened via their mastery of mind magic; an inbuilt feature of the Casings.
Together with the Radicle, the Seed pacifies the beasts and manages the wildlife within their oasis. Furthermore, it sits above the Council of Constituents and is the obvious first recipient of information pertaining to the seedfolk’s search for an Imposter.
“What is your name?” asked the Seed in a kindly tone, or more specifically the woman, not that it mattered; they were One.
Finn hesitated to ensure that he spoke true, “My name is Finnikin, I am a Feeder.”
Launching straight into the purpose of his visit, he continued, “We were on a Hunt when we discovered an Imposter about forty ranges away, in the toxic lands.”
Taking a breath, he then added, “Hinds tried to obtain it, but we fear he lost his life in the attempt…”
The Seed said, “This is…disheartening to hear about Hinds, but the chance for us to birth a new Seed and bud is still a joyous development indeed. Tell me, did you see Hinds’ death yourself?”
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While he’d expected it to come up eventually anyway, Finn was still dismayed that he’d have to relay to the Seed that they’d essentially abandoned Hinds.
“He told us to stay back while he procured the Imposter, but he never returned” said Finn.
The Seed, both people really, shifted its ears forward and asked, “Hmm, and how long did you wait? How did you know when to leave?”
Finn was just happy that he hadn’t been chewed out for abandoning Hinds, thus he responded neutrally, “The Imposter spoke to our minds, it said, ‘Why did he attack me? I only ever wanted to live in peace.’”
The Seeds ears fell flat to their heads and its charcoal eyes widened in shock.
Taking nearly half a minute to respond, the Seed said quietly, “Imposters do not do that. That’s…well it’s completely impossible! It must have a handler or something, how was its voice, what did it sound like?”
A bit taken aback by the revelation, with growing nervousness Finn stuttered out, “Uh, it definitely sounded like an Other, sort of like a Human, I think? He, and it was most certainly a ‘he,’ sounded genuinely distraught. That’s really all I know.”
Cleary bothered, the Seed muttered to itself incoherently and got up and started ascending the ladder to the upper chambers. Just as it was about to finish passing through the hatch in the ceiling, the man at the rear called down to Finn from the top of the ladder, “Oh, sorry Finn, you’re free to go now, I must call the Council together. You needn’t worry about any of this being confidential.”
Somewhat miffed, Finn nodded his head in affirmation. He didn’t know what just happened, so he simply climbed back down to the first floor and made his way out of the tower, nodding at the stationed mage as he passed.
He ambled over to the feedstocks, he was sure to gain some popularity from recounting his experiences, and maybe, just maybe, Tamara would hear…
--------------------
The Chamber successors arrived in the center of Sevit. Though Draven was exhausted from the long ride, if he was being honest with himself, he was quite receptive to the invitation to a feast that he’d been notified of, at least these people gave him the proper respect.
Indeed, he was already very hungry, so he was grateful that his peers and himself would be joining the meal immediately. Whoever’d planned it must’ve had Draven’s own convenience in mind. He never understood why some people insisted on postponing the meals, he’d much rather bypass that particular formality.
In the town’s center was a large unornamented two-story wooden building, from his understanding, they were to have their dinner there. Draven strolled over to the other carriages that were pulling up behind his own to greet his fellows.
To be honest, he was actually quite fond of most of them, on the whole, they had a lot of similarities. Well, other than the two ‘dark horses,’ but that was more due to the fact that he had yet to get to know them. Still, they weren’t descendants of their appointees and in fact weren’t even a part of their families. Draven had no clue where they came from, and that unsettled him.
Already, his peers were gathering up and engaging in small talk while they waited to be ushered onto the property of the merchant who’d be feeding them. Alton Hran, son of Elkin Hran was already chatting up several of the other future governors. Though their families were technically allied in their dealings and their fathers were even close to one another, Draven never really cared for the brat; he always got excited about the most foolish things. Take now for instance, Alton was currently going on about some ‘special’ stone blocks that he must’ve seen on the way through Sevit. He was obviously boring the others, yet he acted as if it was some sort of big deal.
Pathetic.
Draven waited for Alton to pause so that it wouldn’t look like he was interrupting, even though he most certainly was. No one was listening to Alton anyway so he doubted anybody would actually notice that he was cutting him off.
Draven clapped his hands and said, “Who’s ready to eat? It looks like our host is on his way!”
The gathered heirs turned to look in the direction Draven had gestured towards and they saw a bearded man in a bright red coat walking over to them.
Without delay he approached and addressed them, “Welcome esteemed governors! I’m overjoyed that you’ve made it to Sevit safely! And I’m even more delighted that you’ll be dining with us tonight! For your suitability I’ve gone ahead and gathered many of the influential people in our young city. My name is Weston Lomarec, could you please follow me? You may introduce yourselves inside.”
If Weston was going to make their lives easier, then he would be appreciative, thought Draven.
They followed the proactive merchant into his “shop” and into the foyer where there was already a long wooden table with utensils laid out.
It wasn’t anything too fancy, but Draven would manage.
There were several other men in the room who had yet to take their seats, Draven figured these where the other influential people the merchant had referred to.
There was no particular seating arrangement, so everyone stood behind one of the, admittedly shoddy, mismatched chairs and sat in unison. After a little while of exchanging preliminary introductions, a few townsfolk brought out plates of food for them to dine on and the real conversations began.
First to speak was the head of Sevit’s primary mining operation. Urist Rudar was a short and cleanshaven older man. Contrary to the stereotypes, he was of a slight frame, but perhaps that was due to his occupation as a planner and engineer, rather than an actual miner.
Urist cleared his throat and introduced himself and his work, “My name is Urist Rudar, I’m chief planner for Sevit’s first and only mine. I’ve gathered up former coworkers and other miners from the nearby towns in order to tap the riches that are surely hiding beneath our feet. Right now, we aren’t looking for anything in particular, so we’re at an adaptive phase. While we have experience in copper and iron mining, we’re really hoping that we’ll discover either magicite or infused ores such as mithril. If we do, naturally we’ll employ some mages to handle the spoils.
Pausing to state his request, he continued, “We wanted to ask if you’d be willing to extend our tax exemption until we start exporting; already we’ve invested a great deal in our search for the subterranean riches that mana wells are so well known for. If you allow us this, we can achieve our goals sooner.”
Draven didn’t judge others on their linguistic eloquence, he too tried to remain straightforward in his dealings. Anyway, he could see the obvious merits to Urist’s proposal, Draven easily foresaw him being granted his request by the rest of the governors and for what it was worth, he’d be among the supporters.