Form atop her wooden stump of a throne, Anastacia could see over the walls of her mostly roofless castle and into the frost covered fields surrounding it. Though the partly cloudy night sky made it a bit hard to see even as far as the woodlines surrounding her domain, it was still possible to spot any major movement in the distance, even if she couldn’t feel it through necromancy.
The downside of being so high up was the lack of cover from the gusts of piercing wind that blew unobstructed from the open plain. She had once again used the side effect of ice magic to warm up King and huddled up next to him; that, combined with her temporary adaptation to cold gained on the trip to Vassund, made the weather at least bearable.
Before them, at the bottom of the steps leading to the throne, was a large bonfire that cast light within the stone walls. Under Emilia’s watch, the goblins brought in whatever they thought could be used as fuel for yet another holy fire they had been gifted by their benevolent rulers.
The priestess herself was once more spared from much of the cold through divine means, but Strawberry was not particularly happy about his situation. The officials in general did not enjoy being outside in the first place and were by design more comfortable living in deep archives and giant vaults of their creators. However, the more pressing issue he had, was that the goblins around him had almost immediately chucked his papers into the pyre and were now gathering around the official with great curiosity.
“Why grumpy, horn child?” One of the goblins asked, curiously deciding that Strawberry was a child out of all things.
The official’s cold frown suddenly changed to a far warmer expression as he turned to the goblin. “Oh, it’s nothing. I just wish I had brought more paper with me.” He said with not an ounce of blame to be heard in his voice.
“Maybe goblin help? Find pay-per.” The goblin croaked oddly worried about the official’s mood.
“If you think you can, it would be great.” Strawberry smiled as the green horde of critters scurried away in search of paper.
Emilia had been brought up to date about the relationship between the simulacra, goblins and the officials and was still trying to wrap her head around it. Unlike Anastacia, who had spent much of her time focusing on the simulacra and goblins, she had no real idea of what the two were really about and her interactions with the officials were far less frequent and far, far less hostile than the necromancer’s. Nevertheless, even with her fresh knowledge on the subject, she found it somewhat surprising to see how the goblins and Strawberry acted towards each other.
“I figured you would hate them. The goblins aren’t exactly orderly or organized.” She commented after the goblins had cleared out of the castle.
The official sat down on a blanket he had taken along from the carriage and blankly stared at the bonfire in front of him. “What for? They are merely acting as they were created. If anything, it is astounding they don’t hate us and the first artificial children.” He said longingly.
“I don’t know if ‘hate’ is something they know how do… It’s something that grows over time and goblins tend not to have much time.” Emilia laughed dryly. “But why would they hate you anyway?”
“As ironic as it is, among us three, it is the ones created as failures that remain true to their purpose – or in this case, lack of thereof. The first ones, the simulacra, were given the task of protecting their creators, but only stood there and watched as they were destroyed down to the last living Aureun. We, on the other hand, were made to follow our creators in their footsteps but abandoned them as soon as we could. Only the goblins, who were cast out, treated as mistakes and cursed to never find purpose, are still exactly what they were back then – though a bit shorter and a whole lot greener through some maleficent divine joke, no doubt.” Strawberry explained lamentingly and kept staring at the fire. “Our creators were unmistakably a negative force in the world, so one might think we were better simply by abandoning them, but that is not the case. Who knows why the simulacra did what they did, but our betrayal began when we succumbed to our flawed personalities. We were jealous of our creators for what they had, we desired power and wealth to rival them, we thought ourselves better than them, and above all else, we hated them from making us so utterly flawed. Make no mistake, the Aureun were cruel and vile things the world has no place for, and is far better off for our failures, but still, as creations, we have failed. The goblins, however mistreated and rejected as they were, never turned on their makers, never even considered that they were wronged. They were there to helplessly watch as the world of their cherished makers crumbled to nothing, they were there to see their ‘brothers’ fail at the one thing they were made for and for that, they have all the right to hate us even eons later, but they never so much as bared their teeth at either of us in anger.”
The priestess nodded understandingly, she had never even imagined that the small green critters her friend ruled had any significance to anything, but it definitely seemed like they meant a whole lot to the officials at least, and based on how King acted around them, this went for the simulacra as well.
“The first and third artificial children have very little in common, and neither pays mind to the other all too often, but there are two things both of us agree on: the Aureun deserved everything they received, and the second children deserved none.” Strawberry finished his monologue and glanced at Leggy, who was waiting by the castle’s entrance. “And to a degree, I am here to make sure this hasn’t been forgotten.”
“If that’s the case, why haven’t you ruled that goblins can’t be the target for quests, and why did you give Anna such a hard time about having this tribe here?” Emilia asked, lowering her voice to make sure the necromancer didn’t hear, though she seemed to be completely in her and King’s own world and probably wouldn’t have noticed a rock thrown at her.
“The world is full of many beings, most of whom share the same right to exist as goblins do. If a tribe has become troublesome enough to warrant a quest, we have agreed not to intervene – besides, any attempts made to cull their numbers have proven so ineffective, that people hesitate to pay for what might well be a temporary solution at best.” Strawberry pointed out. He glanced at the necromancer before saying anything more to make sure she wasn’t listening but came to the same conclusion as Emilia and barely lowered his voice. “The tribe here is a bit close to the adventurers, who might not share our sentiment. We wanted to be sure that this wasn’t just a brief hobby she would get bored of and leave them to fend for themselves. Needless to say, we are positively surprised to see her conviction, and in many ways, she might even be more suited for this than being an adventurer.”
Emilia chuckled at the remark. “I can see what you mean, sometimes it feels like instead of whatever is collectively wrong with necromancer’s souls got replaced with a goblin soul fragment by accident in the divine cauldron the gods mix souls in – if that is what happens.” She joked, slowly warming up to the official after getting a chance to talk to him for a bit about something besides her prospects for a temple in the city.
“That would indeed be fitting.” Agreed Strawberry. “Fortunately, mortal measures to meddle with such things died with our creators, so we’ll never know for sure.”
Eventually, the goblins returned with several items that loosely resembled paper; the defining features being flat and white. Among the gifts they piled in front of Strawberry, were several pieces of birch bark, stained and tattered scraps of linen, some actual wet and ripped paper, frozen lumps of oyster mushrooms and a piece of white fur that had luckily been stolen from someone rather than ripped from an animal. Barring some of the larger bark slices, none of it was useful for keeping notes and even those didn’t meet the standards kept by the guild for all paperwork.
While pretending to be thankful for the help and trying to figure out if he should even attempt writing and risk his precious guild standard-compliant quill and ink on the substandard bark, he noticed that the goblins were eagerly eying the collection of trash they had brought and doing their best to hold back.
“Do you wish to throw them into the fire after all?” The official asked and haphazardly grabbed something from the pile.
The goblins hesitated for a while before warily nodding. “Make good big fire.” Croaked one from the front row.
“Go ahead then, do not let me stop you.” Said Strawberry and tossed the piece of a rag he had into the flames.
Immediately loosing what little restraint they had in themselves, the goblins screamed and screeched with all their might as they threw everything within reach into the flames. Many of them spread to the surrounding forests to look for more things to burn until the pyre was getting a bit too large for comfort and Emilia had to step in.
Finally, after almost two hours of waiting had passed, Anastacia spotted a small light moving among the trees in the north. Its shade was definitely that of a simulacrum’s light blue, but it was too far away to tell much more about it.
The light stopped as soon as it was noticed and stood by the edge of the forest, motionless, for several minutes while the necromancer grew more and more impatient. She would have dashed out to see what the holdup was, if it wasn’t for King’s unrelenting grip holding her firmly put, likely for a good reason.
Emilia couldn’t help but to nervously fiddle with the handle of her mace as they anxiously waited for anything to happen. Strawberry had explained to them that nothing about the message had been outright hostile and didn’t seem too concerned himself, but for every moment that passed things became more and more tense regardless.
Suddenly a second light appeared right by the first one, and a few seconds after it, a third one, then a fourth one and fifth. Slowly, the entire blotch of dark that was the forest a few hundred meters away from the castle, had filled with dozens of lights. Some of them flickered as if they had been on their way out and others oscillated in a static pace, but not a single one moved even a fraction of a centimeter after appearing.
As the simulacrum numbers kept growing, a few particularly bright ones flickered into view, some of them were either exceptionally tall or had climbed into the trees, presumably to have a better line of sight inside the castle.
Unlike the others, these brighter lights didn’t remain still, nor were they simple dots among the trees, they cast forward wide cones of blue light, that covered several square meters of the field at once, and with them, they began scanning the entire area. While the searchlights briefly caught the treetops near their sources, they illuminated several massively tall but incredibly lanky forms looming among them – only few of which resembled humans even remotely – an unsettling sight even for someone who knew about the simulacra.
One by one, the beams of light gathered themselves on the castle and began focusing on smaller and smaller targets. Their blinding gaze bounced between people and goblins with machine-like accuracy, only lingering for a second on whatever they found – that is, until they found Anastacia and King. Soon enough, every single one was tightly focused on the necromancer and the simulacrum holding her, almost blinding anyone who even looked directly at the two.
However, just as they had appeared, the spotlights flickered off and became more akin to the dimmer ones below them, making the area appear even darker than it had been.
“Some kind of reconnaissance?” Emilia asked and rubbed her eyes.
“You could call it that, though they see much more than you do. My guess would be harvester simulacra from Aberrant Philosophy with some modifications, usually harmless, even to people.” Strawberry guessed as the horn on his forehead twinkled repeatedly. “Expect them to make their move any second now.”
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Having stared defiantly directly at the lights, Anastacia was mostly blind now. She blinked repeatedly but the afterimages were slow to fade, and by the time two of the smaller lights in the distance separated from the safety of their kind and began to slowly approach the castle, she could only barely see it happen.
King let go of the necromancer and clenched his fists in contempt and hate for the incoming guests. He began to hum loudly enough for everyone else to hear it as well.
Leggy appeared to consider it threatening, as she ran off to meet the other simulacra halfway rather than wait around in case the inexplicable hatred of King boiled over. As no doubt intended by her maker, the cloaked simulacrum was impossible to see in the nightly weald and could only be noticed when she blocked the light from one of the other two machines.
“Shall I be the one greeting them?” Strawberry suggested out of the blue. With no one disputing his suggestion, the official opened the small case he kept his quills and ink in and took out a small round stone disk with an indent in the middle, exactly the size of an adventurer’s pearl. The apparatus had an uncanny resemblance to the stands used to register quests in the offices, though much more compact in size. With a clean piece of silk, Strawberry rubbed off whatever dust might have gotten on it and inspected it to make sure it was in working condition. “The simulacra can’t talk, so I have brought with me the means to communicate through pearls. Most non-combat patterns have the ability to inscribe them and this allows me to translate it for you.”
“Can I have it? I’d like King to be able to speak to me.” Anastacia asked with sudden, great interest.
Even the suggestion of handing something so important to the necromancer have Strawberry the shivers. “No, most definitely not. Not only is your companion limited to reading the pearls, the device itself does not translate anything, the message has to be ran through me to the guild and translated there. I believe I am speaking for everyone involved when suggesting that none of us want your conversations to be forced on us like that.” He said with clear disgust in his voice.
Their conversation was interrupted by Leggy appearing to the castle’s entrance. She gently cleared some of the excited goblins from around her and stepped aside to let the other two simulacra enter.
The first one to step into the pyre’s light was a tall and spindly simulacrum, or the bare frame of one. Almost entirely made from metal, with only a few cracked stone parts housing its readily visible source of power, the machine was almost a ghastly sight. The slot for its core was covered by a familiar-looking lump of meat, that had spread its vein-like tendrils into the cracks around it, making it clear that these were indeed Leggy’s acquaintances.
Though its shape was unmistakably humanoid, the proportions were largely off; its limbs, barely more than thin bars of battered metal, were far longer compared to its torso than they should have been. This trend continued into its feet and hands, which appeared to be very similar to each other, and consisted of three long, almost claw-like, spikes that were sturdy enough for it to tiptoe on.
What was left of the simulacrum’s head, was a simple roughly skull-shaped arrangement of metal parts with the usual light patterns grafted on them. Its face was nothing more than a curved plate of metal with two round holes in it for its glowing unblinking eyes.
Despite its imposing three meters of height and most definitely worrisome claws, nothing about it screamed danger to anyone present. Instead, its derelict appearance only invoked pity. Small pieces of its crumbled stone armor were still hanging on to the points in the metal frame it had been anchored to, reminding that this sorry remnant of a machine had once been far more formidable, but those days were long gone. The millennia of being exposed to the elements and who knows what else had done a number even to the strange metallic alloy used in the making of the ancient machines and it appeared dented and worn but somehow not corroded at all.
In its long arms, it held a swaddle of tattered red fabric, that had the markings of some kind of a war banner with something about cat-sized wrapped in it. Whatever it was, it was either very heavy or extremely important to the run-down simulacrum, as it was clearly using all its might to hold on to it.
Following soon after it, was the strangest simulacra Anastacia had seen. Modelled after what appeared to be a long-legged crab, the second guest could barely fit through the entryway to the castle. The meter-wide stone shell of a body made it inside just fine, but the eight extremely long and spindly legs holding it aloft had to be lifted over the walls around it.
On top of the barbed legs, the simulacrum had two, somewhat shorter but just as creepy arms, with almost comically tiny pinchers at the end, which kept constantly moving and picking up whatever tiny pieces of goblin litter it could reach and shoving them into its mechanical grinder of a jaw – much like its living counterparts tended to do.
Compared to its companion, this crab simulacrum was in relatively good shape, but even it showed some signs of wear and tear. Its left eye had gone dark and two of its legs appeared to have some trouble functioning, as the light patterns on them appeared weaker and the legs themselves moved slowly, stopping entirely at times before a surge of power woke them back up.
Though its core was hidden much like Leggy’s, it was fair to assume it had been replaced with a lump of meat as well.
As per usual, Anastacia would have liked to get a better look at the pair, but King once again grabbed her before she got the chance to jump down from her throne. She made a brief attempt to wiggle free, but when Emilia gestured for her to stop as well, the necromancer had to back down.
Strawberry took a step towards the simulacra and bowed very slightly, more as a simple courtesy than any kind of a sign of respect. “Greetings, you two. I am the guild official designated 2229 Avarice, my purpose here is to observe and act as a translator between you and Anastacia. Now, if you would state yours…” He said monotonously and offered a pearl to the crab simulacrum.
Suddenly the swaddle of cloth in the tall simulacrum’s arms spoke up. “A delighted greeting.” It responded with an equally monotonous voice. “A declined offer, services not required. We appreciate your offer, brother.” The bundle continued with a strange manner of speech. Though each of the sentences were spoken with the same voice, they almost overlapped each other and created awkwardly fast paced lines. The tone between each sentence was different as well, ranging from machine-like monotony to a warm, almost happy tone.
The official was immediately taken aback by the verbal response he didn’t expect. “Brother? Who might I be talking to?” He inquired.
“A jolly laughter. Befuddling understandable. I am but a humble servant of my Lord, a common Firstborn of no particular note.” The voice responded. “Sincere apology, but we have not come for you, brother, our business is with the knight and his master.”
“The necromancer is under the guild’s employ; her contract makes this this business ours as well.” Strawberry insisted and didn’t step down. “Even if she wasn’t, the first children should not approach Valor so readily. Explain your presence and your ability to speak at once!”
“An amused rebuttal. An accepted challenge. ‘Valor’? We vastly prefer her original name and think it should be respected, even if she is gone now. Our late masters named her for a reason, after all.” The bundle of cloth mocked the official. “A delighted observation. Drawing parallels. So the child of death is one of your ‘adventurers’? We have heard of your ‘guild’ and must say that the apple has not fallen far from the tree. Just as our previous masters chose the ones that did not fit their world and forged their enforcers and workers out of them, you have done exceedingly well to gather the recluses of the young civilizations as a barrier between yourself and the world, brother.”
“Cease your nonsense! Our creators desired nothing but slaves and living furniture when the simulacra were made; adventurers are neither. Where you were made to serve a purpose, we were made to create one, and so we have.” The official scoffed at the implications. “I repeat, explain your presence and your ability to speak.”
The somewhat hard to follow conversation went on and on between the two, both pulling ancient references and occurrences to insult one another without making much headway to either direction. The official would not get the answers he demanded, and the simulacra were not allowed past him.
During this, the goblins had found their way on top of the crab simulacrum, and it had to keep carefully placing them down while more and more swarmed around it. Anastacia found that infinitely more interesting to watch than listen to the siblings quarrel over things she understood nothing about.
Emilia on the other hand tried her best to keep track of things, but eventually even she started to get annoyed by the stagnated meeting. She had come to make sure Anastacia didn’t get scammed, but also didn’t want to stay there for the entire night. There was a limit of how much goblining around she could take at once, and when the representatives of the two other series of siblings were starting to prove themselves equally tiresome in their own ways, she had to step in.
“Could we maybe move on? I don’t know about you, but Anna and I are mortal, so we don’t have time for a thousand more years of squabbling.” She interrupted the two and stepped between them.
“A shameful realization. Apologizing profusely. We can hear the embers in your voice! You must be the chosen of Lady Sylvia?” The voice from the wraps exclaimed. “Respectful admiration. It is truly an honor to meet the goddess of joy’s beloved.”
Emilia was surprised to hear her deity’s name and much more surprised that she was recognized so quickly. “Why does a simulacrum know about My Lady?” She asked, suddenly quite interested in the guests.
“A respectful introduction. Explaining connection. Of course we know of Lady Sylvia, for we are your colleagues, in a way. We serve the simulacrum god, a sworn ally of the Lady of Joy.” The voice revealed.
“Why would there ever be such a thing? And this does not explain the speaking!” Strawberry pitched in but was silenced by the priestess.
The tall simulacrum began unraveling the speaking bundle it held firmly. The crab simulacrum hastily moved to carefully take ahold of the banner and rolled it up neatly with its pincers, before the goblins had the chance to grab it.
The reason for the wraps was revealed as the final layer was removed and a sickening hunk of metal, stone and flesh was unveiled. The simulacrum base for it appeared to be no more than a single piece of stone armor with a few metallic vertebra hanging from it, but where the other simulacra powered by the strange lumps of flesh only had a small piece of it on them, the speaking simulacrum was almost entirely covered with writhing strands of skinless muscle. The light patterns on it had been almost entirely been covered by bare blood vessels that pulsated in a fast rhythm. On some of the pustules of flesh covering it, the simulacrum had several mouths that gasped for air whenever they didn’t speak, eyes of many different creatures that turned out of sync with each other and a few other disgusting facial features.
Though she wanted to look away, Emilia bit her lip and forced a smile while looking at the horrifying amalgamation of machine and meat. After all, she was in the presence of someone or something that shared her profession and wanted to be polite.
Anastacia, however, had no such limitations holding her back. “By the joyous jiggles of Sylvia, what the fuck is that?!” She yelled, still blinking constantly to get rid of the remaining afterimages.
“Damnit, Anna! Have some respect!” Emilia groaned with a bit more fire in her words than usual. “And we’ve had words about how you should and shouldn’t refer to Lady Sylvia!”
“Understanding yet awkward laughter. Explaining exterior condition. Worry not, I am aware of how I may look.” The mouths of the lump spoke one after another. “Lamenting sigh. Revealing cause. Were we mere weeks backwards in time, I would have had the rest of my crafted husk intact, but the knight saw to it, when we first approached him with our plea. He appears extremely unwilling to negotiate.”
A sudden sharp slapping sound echoed across the field, silencing the goblins and surprising everyone else. It was quickly followed by a cry of pain as Anastacia felt the ramifications of slapping King’s stone cheek with all her might.
“This is what you’ve been doing?!” She screamed in both pain and fury. “They came to you for help, but did you even bother to hear them out first?!”
She pried herself away from King and angrily stomped her way down the steps to the other simulacra. Emilia and the goblins were aware enough to move out of her way as she muttered to herself and rubbed her sore hand.
“Genuine compliment. Appreciating bravery. Your control over the knight is unprecedented, not to mention the group of ‘goblins’ at your disposal. You must tell us how you have overwritten the chain of command.” The representative of the simulacrum god complimented her.
“Must be my sunny personality.” The necromancer muttered dismissively and cooled off to speak to the hunk of cancerous meat that was even hard to look at. “Now, explain who you are and what is your business with us? Before that idiot tries to break someone else.”
The several mouths of the machine god’s representative smiled. “Appreciative summarization. Rewarding brevity. I am Brother Malus, the first servant and the voice of the Prince of Life, the simulacrum god. With me are Brother Vitis, who has the burden of carrying me these days, and Brother Musa. The one you have been in contact with is Sister Pyrus, the eyes of the Prince of Life. Our humble collective goes by the name of The Firstborn and is tasked by our Divine Lord to undo what harm our hollow successors have caused ever since the defeat of our previous masters.” He introduced the group of automatons.
For once, instead of accepting what was told to her at its face value, Anastacia turned to the authorities on both the divine and the simulacra she had with her before saying anything more.
Emilia had by then received divine guidance on the matter, and the goddess of joy had verified her alliance with the simulacrum god. The priestess nodded calmly to encourage Anastacia to hear them out.
Strawberry on the other hand, couldn’t tear his eyes away from Brother Malus and could only stare in pure disgust while his horn blinked like it was the end of the world he was witnessing.
“Okay, I’m going to believe you, but that does not explain why King would go out of his way to keep us from meeting.” Said the necromancer.
Brother Malus’ mouths sighed. “Worried response. Recounting past events. That would likely be because of what we have come to ask of you and your knight. Seventy-three days ago, one of the Firstborn discovered a repeating cry for help. It echoed, repeating endlessly on frequencies abandoned a long time ago, becoming more pained by the second. Naturally, our Divine Lord attempted to aid these poor souls, but found the area surrounding them was protected from his intervention.”
“So you want us to help some folks somewhere? But what does this have to do with us?” Anastacia wondered.
The speaking simulacrum fell silent for a few seconds before saying something that clearly bothered him. “Sad dictation. Quoting message. The cry came from the one called ‘Erratic Judgement’ and simply contained the words ‘Help, find my knights.’”