“So, you’re sure you’re not going to shoot me in the fucking eye?”
“Positive!” the archer shouted back to her friend, before muttering to herself: “So long as you stay fucking still.”
After letting a cool, calm breath out of her pursed lips, Seneca loosed an arrow from her bow, and it sailed through the air a hundred feet before perfectly piercing the apple Elias was balancing on his head. Abel stood at the ready to freeze the arrow in space, though he hadn’t the heart to tell Elias that it was going entirely too fast for him to realistically do anything about. So when the arrow assailed the fruit, pinning it to the thick live oak behind the knight, the wizard breathed a sigh of relief, and snatched the apple from its place to take a bite.
“I still don’t understand why I had to be a part of that,” Elias groused, his face contorted to something between a smile and a frown.
“Eh, I think she just thought it would be more fun,” Abel said with a little huff of laughter, as Seneca whooped from the other side of the road.
“And was it?” Elias asked. “More fun, Sen?”
“Hell yeah! You should see your face!” the redhead laughed. “Here, Abel, throw me that!”
The camp was raucous that night, which it turned out was quite normal for the Vagabonders. For the last two weeks, a full tenday, the party had been trundling along the Empire’s highways, south and then west, day in and day out. They would get moving just after sunup, and set up camp just before sundown, traveling to the tune of Wren’s constant reminders that they had a schedule to keep. They traveled for six days south on the Grain Road, which stretched from the capital city of Zurdenstock all the way down to Soughe on the coast, and then three days west on the Gem Road, which was a straight shot all the way to Zolitar, with little roads jutting out to meet all the smaller coastal fishing villages that Wren insisted they needn’t stop at — on that account, Seneca was at least able to convince everyone else that if you were going to see the ocean for the first time, it really should be in a place like Epollonia. So for that tenday, they saw nothing but grasses and grains and the road. It was monotonous, and quiet, and boring while they rode their wagon and horses.
But at night, the party would party.
They had no liquor, nor an abundance of food, but there’s a sort of drunken stupor that comes upon a crew when they get off of work, and find themselves still with the same gang of misfits. It was a stupor Seneca knew like an old friend, and did her damndest to cultivate every night. She’d shoot apples off her friends heads, start games of cards and dice with the sets Kishori happily loaned her, and teach them all her favorite shanties and work songs. And night after night, the Vagabonders happily followed her lead.
That particular night, while most of the party threw Wren’s darts at a target they’d carved in the live oak, Kishori hummed a happy song as she set about putting up tents with Petrichor. Occasionally, her tune would be disrupted by someone shouting or laughing in the distance, and she’d smile along with them. She loved when a dull, menial, simple task in the foreground of her perception clashed with insane, loud, and chaotic noise in the background. Moments like those, headspaces like those, reminded her of her childhood in Zurdenstock, and all the places before it, when her parent would give her one of her many wooden toys to play with to distract her from the vast everything around them.
“Would you like to join them, Kishori?” Petrichor asked gently, laying a hand on her as if it wasn’t her first time asking. “I can finish the rest easily enough myself.”
The younger woman shook off her stupor. “Oh! No, I’m quite alright. I like setting these up, honestly. Thank you, though.”
“You’re sure, then? You seem more sociable than anyone else here, other than Seneca, probably.”
“Oh, I can miss one night of Sen leading the boys around. Honestly it’s just as much fun to listen from a distance as it is up close.” Beneath the shade of the oak, an unruly chorus erupted when Wren stepped up to take his turn at the dartboard, and inevitably crushed his merry band’s spirits. Kishori laughed. “Besides, what hope could I possibly have at tossing around darts and daggers?”
“Should I remind you of the weapon you hold at your side?” Petrichor asked with a smirk, eyeing the tiny scabbard pinned to Kishori’s belt.
“And when have you seen me use that in this past tenday?” Kishori laughed.
“Fair,” Petrichor chuckled. “Is it ceremonial, then? Have you ever used it?”
“I… Have. But it is ceremonial. A gift, from Joh, my parent. My… father. It was his, a brilliant, enchanted dagger that afflicts the person stabbed with a terrible poison… I don’t particularly like using it.”
Petrichor nodded, and tossed a thick and dusty spare blanket beside the fire pit for people to sit on once dinner was ready.“You’re a cleric like I am, correct? May I ask if the dagger is a religious artifact?”
Kishori nodded once, and again.
“Let me know at any point if I’m asking too many questions, hon’, but I haven’t had the chance to ask you about what deity you serve. And you don’t seem to talk about it much.”
For a moment, Kishori said nothing, and only looked at Petrichor. She thought she was an incredibly beautiful woman; her hair was like oceanic plantlife, dark green and full, occasionally flowing through the air like water. Her entire body caught light as if reflecting off of a shallow pool, be it Nera’s brilliant sunlight, or the darker, more magical light of the moons. Kishori frequently found herself stealing glances at Petrichor in the evening to see which combinations of Ganymede’s, Callisto’s, and Io’s light she took, those beautiful silver, crimson, and violet shades.
Kishori shrugged. “I don’t often feel the need to talk about my faith. But I’m not trying to hide it, and for what it’s worth, I love answering your questions.” The young woman smiled, and sat down on the blanket. “Illuso is my goddess. She was my father’s, too, and it was some older devout of hers that passed this dagger down to him.”
“I should have guessed,” Petrichor smiled. “That’s perfect for you.”
“Oh, uh, you think so? Why?”
“Well, Illuso is the Goddess of Veils, yes? You seem incredibly kind, but we haven’t talked much about your faith in these… two weeks, right? Sorry, time is still hard to wrap my head around,” she laughed. “Anyways… You just seem to me like someone who greatly values your connections, but also will lift veils and share things in your own time. On your own schedule before anyone else’s.”
Kishori looked down, and toyed with the fraying threads of the blanket beneath her. “Is that… bad?”
“No, not at all. I admire it, actually, and your goddess for it. She always seemed quite reasonable and lovely in all of the readings I did when I was young.”
“Oh. Good,” Ki huffed happily. “Did you do a lot of reading on divinity?”
“I did,” she confirmed. “I was raised in a monastery which, of course, focused on the Element and his influence in our home. But my mentors gave teachings on all of the sixteen. Well, thirteen, I suppose, we didn’t talk about the defectors much.”
“That’s amazing. Would you mind teaching me a bit about what you know? I didn’t have a ton of books growing up, so I only really learned about our Empire’s favorites.”
“May I ask who the ‘Empire’s Favorites’ are?” the aethun laughed.
“Oh, of course! Apart from humans, the Zandrian Empire is largely dwarves and féar, so Rhognar and Declan are two of the most widely-worshiped gods. Then of course, being the ‘bastion of law and modernity’ that it is,” Kishori intoned, along with heavy use of air quotes, “Axiom and Vox Legibus tend to have the largest influence in urban settings. Other than that-”
Petrichor suddenly held up a hand. “Hold up. Do you hear that, Kishori?” She had the slightest grin on her face.
Kishori listened carefully. Upon hearing nothing, she scanned the campsite and surrounding fields, and saw that the shade of the live oak, soon to be overtaken by the dull pallor of twilight, was missing two people. She continued to watch the area for some time, listening to the chorus of whatever competition was going on, and the occasional low hoot of an owl in the distance. Finally, in a lapse of sound, when the tension was high and the partying Vagabonders all watched Seneca line up a dart toss, Kishori heard the cracking of a twig just outside camp.
“Eden?” Petrichor asked the night.
“Yes?” the night called back.
The clerics shared a laugh. “If you’d like to listen in, you don’t need to sneak around, ‘hon. Come join us.” Petrichor patted the blanket, and kneeled down herself as she began heating up rations for the party.
Out from behind a nearby boulder, Eden stepped out a little sheepishly, with the hulking, smiling figure of a stark white drakun behind him.
“We heard you begin to speak of gods,” Jarvarax explained, flopping down heavily next to Kishori, “and the Progeny expressed his intrigue. I have led him over here to listen and learn!”
“Well, what would you like to know?”
“Everything!” Eden said eagerly, having forgotten about his shyness. He plopped himself down on one of the campsite’s stump stools. “You both know gods, and apparently I get my power from one! I should know about them, right?”
“Well, alright…” Kishori mused. “Admittedly, Eden, that’s kind of a tall order, since there are sixteen of them. Most of what I know is the legend of how they arrived on Psedhara, and what each of their domains are. And maybe after, you could talk a bit more specifically about the Element, Petrichor?”
Petrichor nodded and gave her warm, motherly smile, but said nothing. All three of them now looked at her expectantly, students in a seminar she hadn’t prepared to give.
The young cleric cleared her throat. “Uhm, alright! So. Long, long ago, like a couple thousand years or something, sixteen great, divine beings discovered Psedhara, a planet already teeming with life. Plants and animals all over, great mountain ranges, oceans, continents, the whole bit. They landed on one of the highest elevations on the planet, a mountain tower called the Divine Plateau, on the continent called Origis. The divine beings, these sibling gods, upon discovering this perfect world for working their magics, they decided to all claim names for themselves, and domains they would oversee. Like aspects of the world and stuff, not like kingdoms. At least, that’s how the legend goes.
“I guess I’ll go in order. The first to step off the Plateau was Nera, the Goddess of the Sun and Moons. She was apparently captivated more by the things she saw in the sky than she was with Psedhara itself, so she took them all as her domain. That’s why we call the sun Nera! What’s next… Oh! Yeah, that’s probably important… So, an important thing to know as we keep going is that a bunch of these gods are what created us, people! Some were direct, and others weren’t, like with divus, drakus, and aethus, who were created by other greater creations of the gods. Anyways; after Nera was the Element, the God of the Essential Components, who-”
“That’s our guy, right?” Eden interrupted, to which the drakun and aethun at either side of him nodded. “Cool.”
“Right. Truthfully, I don’t know how aethus came about, I just know that the Element made the Elemental Planes, and then more major and minor elementals were sort of formed from the lands themselves. Is that right, Petrichor?”
“Absolutely, though there were some greater primordials interred in the planet even before the gods stepped down, who the Element is said to have made many pacts with when he staked his domain. And, he is known by many other, lesser names like the Mountain and the Deep, as his true name is lost to history. You’re doing great, hon’.”
“Thanks,” Kishori said nervously, idly playing with a lock of her long, dark chocolate hair around her finger. “Alright, so, after the Element came Jørda, the Goddess of Flora and Fauna. She was the first of the gods to create mortal life, when she made the elves. The next god was Declan, who became the God of Joy and Serenity, and the eventual creator of the féarfolk, in addition to the entire plane of Fae, which he sort of jointly built with Jørda. After Declan is his lover Du’aziza, who is aptly the Goddess of Beauty and Love.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“The siblings are lovers?” Jarvarax said, doing what can only be described as the dragon equivalent of raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I try not to think about it too much,” Kishori laughed. “God shit, I guess. After her came Axiom, the God of Truth and Knowledge, who made gnomes, and after him is… Well, the next one is a bit of a complex figure. She’s Maxima Sol, the Dragon Mother who called herself the Goddess of the Highest Power. She literally represents, just like, power. It was her that turned against the rest of the gods first, and as such, she was forever imprisoned at the bottom of Hell.”
As if on cue, Nera touched the horizon, and the whole sky shone a brilliant, terrifying crimson, painting the landscape in blood. It was the last remnant of twilight, that burst of colorful sound as evening turned to night. Kishori was entranced by that light, and found herself staring at the way it refused to touch Jarvarax; where everyone else’s skin glowed with that dull red warmth, the drakun’s cool, bone-white scales held onto his pallor. When Jarvarax caught her gaze, he made no attempt to move or do anything, but his chin dipped down in a fraction of a nod. A quiet, enormous understanding.
“Right… Anyways, uh, so another thing I learned from my dad, which I think is good to know, and also really genuinely interesting to me, is how the choices of one god affect the next one. Unlike a lot of god-related things, the order of them stepping off is actually real, it’s not just some arbitrary order some old clerics made up hundreds of years ago. So, when one god steps off after another, they often choose their domains based specifically on the pitfalls of the last one, like they were keeping each other in check.”
Rather than interrupting again, Eden raised his hand.
“Yes, Eden?” Ki chuckled.
“Does that mean the next one was a law dude? To keep Maxima from being too powerful?”
“That’s exactly right!” The teacher smiled proudly. “There’s not much record of him, though…”
Jarvarax took his turn to raise a hand, but didn’t wait to speak. “He was murdered by Maxima Sol. His replacement was one of her oldest children, the Progenitor of Metallic Dragons. In your Common Tongue, he is called Vox Legibus.”
Kishori nodded, happy for someone more knowledgeable to fill in what she assumed was incredibly important history to not mess up. “Right. So he’s the God of Law and Righteousness, and replaced the Dead God. To react to that law came the Goddess of Chaos and Entropy, Miira. Then there’s Rhognar, the dwarven God of Creation and Valor.”
“My third,” Jarvarax added, taking out his necklace.
“Right, the Anvil. That makes sense. After him is… well, the one I can speak to most. My goddess. Genso, the Goddess of Illusions and Veils. She’s far from the most powerful, or the most revered, but she is kind, warm, and forgiving. I inherited her light from my parent, my father. She gives us the strength to unveil truths, and keep others until they can be safely given.”
“Oh! I didn’t know your dad was religious too, I just remembered you decided to honor him after his passing, since he was a charlatan.”
From the field with the live oak, the rest of the Vagabonders had begun making their way back to the camp circle, led by the promise of camaraderie and the smell of decently-prepared dry rations. Pax was now standing near Kishori, looking at her with that look of genuine wonder, and his golden honey eyes that always held the last light of day long after it passed.
“And I thought her name was Illuso?” Elias added.
“Oh, uh…” Kishori was suddenly hyper-aware of the growing number of people around her. She looked to Wren, but he was nowhere to be seen. “Well, you’re right, Pax. Thanks for remembering. He was religious, but only by association, if that makes sense. Not a super devout person, but he worshiped in his own way. And my dagger was his. As for the name, Elias, she actually goes by both. Genso is the name her devout use most, in my experience, but the more common name is Illuso… I suppose it shouldn’t be too surprising that a goddess of mystery has multiple monikers?”
“That’s… very fair,” Elias admitted.
“Did she create any people?” Eden asked. “I feel like there’s a whole bunch of sorts of people that we haven’t covered yet.”
“Well, you’re probably gonna continue thinking that even when I’m finished,” Kishori laughed, running both hands through her hair. “But… yes. She created the kisu.”
“The who?” Eden asked.
“Changelings,” Elias interjected. “Fae creatures who have the ability to change shape, into a member of any other ancestry. They can even perfectly replicate other specific people’s looks.”
“People,” Seneca corrected, having finished collecting all the daggers and darts that they’d strewn about the lawn. “Fae people.”
“Right,” Elias said a bit uncomfortably.
“It is actually commonly estimated that kisu are one of the seven most populous ancestries in the world, though there are likely very few here in the reaches of the Empire,” Abel added. “Of course, it is not easy to be so sure, as most would not give their true identities to census collectors for safety reasons.”
“Safety reasons?” the young sorcerer asked.
“Much of the world is not kind to kisu,” Wren said, finally emerging from the shadows. He held a gladius in his off-hand, and was carefully polishing it with a rag while looking between each of the people sitting by the fire. “While no government these days would be so dense as to actually take stances against kisu, there’s nonetheless a lot of people who are distrusting of them just for their nature. Hateful people. Stupid people.”
“But… Is there not some merit?” Jarvarax asked. “Obviously it doesn’t mean any one person is innately evil. But they appear to have superior powers of deception.”
Kishori looked a bit uncomfortably at the conversation she had inadvertently started. Wren sighed, and answered the question: “I understand the logic, Honored Friend, but it is flawed. You live in a world of great magic, and while it is not common, it is also not so uncommon. All people will find the means to deceive and to sleight, and have equal ability to do so regardless of the bodies they were born into. And even for those with the ability to appear as other people… The ability to do so does not create the inclination. I understand that you mean no harm, Jarvarax… but you should be very wary of the messaging that hateful people put out into the world. Especially the Empire we all currently live in.”
Jarvarax nodded, seeming to have no problem accepting he was wrong. “Understood, Honored Friend. That makes sense.”
After quiet overtook the Vagabonders and company for a few moments, Kishori took a deep breath. “Well, with that important lesson being pretty much done… I don’t wanna keep people from eating. Are we okay if I speed-round the rest of them?” A chorus of nods followed. “Alright… So! The next is Noctus, God of Twilight and Shadows. Then there’s Cyrene, the Goddess of Utility and the Hunt. While Jørda is still the deity of animals, Cyrene takes great care of them as well. She supposedly waited a long time after many other mortals were born, but she brought the cyrani to the world.” When Eden appeared not to recognize the word, she added: “Any animal-folk you may meet.
“After Cyrene came Ikarys. He’s a vengeful god, as he thought that all of his older siblings stole the best domains. So he took the domains of Ingenuity and Invention, and was fervent for Axiom’s position until he was eventually tossed into the Abyss.
“The final two to step off the Plateau were Corva and Subaeon, who did so practically in step with each other. The legend is that they talked for many years about when they should emerge into the world. Corva — or Raven, as she’s normally referred to in Common — agreed to step off first, but became the Goddess of the End anyways, a master of all endings of things, which obviously includes death. When all of us eventually find our end, it’s Corva that greets us. And then there’s Subaeon… He’s easily the most mysterious, despite most people believing that he was the one who brought humans to Psedhara. He’s the God of Time and Space.
“And… That’s all of them! From here, don’t let me keep you from eating, but… I’m always excited to talk about, even though that’s pretty much all I know, admittedly. To be fair, a lot of the questions people ask about gods have, like, kinda subjective answers anyways. So I’m always happy to talk.”
As soon as Kishori had finished her lecture, Petrichor scooted over to her, and handed her a bowl of food. Behind her, Wren placed a firm hand on her shoulder. With the two adults at her side, she immediately felt more at ease about all the information she’d given. These people around her weren’t enemies. They weren’t strangers who she had to worry about judging her for getting things wrong, or who she had to explain herself to. At least through the presence of the two older adventurers, the rest of the Vagabonders were stalwart allies. Friends. People she could feel comfortable and welcome around.
“Alright, huddle up, kids,” Wren called out, still with his hand on Kishori’s shoulder. “First, Kishori; thank you for the lesson. Just like how Abel can teach us about how to interact with magic in the world, with more intimate knowledge than I can, it’s vital for people like us to know about the divine entities that comprise our world. We have a responsibility to understand so many aspects of our world that you probably haven’t had to put a second thought towards in your past lives. All of you have something important to contribute, and as much as it’s hard to admit, most of what I’m good at is just telling you what berries are safe to eat, and what strategies monsters use to tear you apart. So listen. Whenever people talk to you, or people are talking near you, and you have the opportunity to snoop; listen. The world is an information game. Listen to yourselves, and to each other, and you’ll be able to take on any threat.
“That being said, tomorrow, we reach Epollonia. We’ll get there around noon, and if I’ve timed everything out right, we’ve gotta get to work early the next morning. You’ll have a bit of time to see the beach, visit the town, whatever. But then it’s sleep, and work. Any questions?”
Every Vagabonder who wasn’t deep in their dinner raised their hand.
“Seneca?”
“I think I speak for everyone when I say: what are we doing?”
Wren smirked. “An astute first question, Sen.”
“Oh, and why?”
“Right. Well, several weeks ago, Duncan and I received a call to aid from a leader of citizen activists in the city, saying that people have been reporting strange activity in the harbor for the last couple months. Abnormal tides, an influx of aquatic life that the fishers haven’t been complaining about, shit like that. Reports went through the right channels, and the local Watchers’ Guild got word, and sent missives out throughout the Calden Fields.”
“So you are not the only ones who got the call?” Jarvarax asked.
“We’re the ones who answered,” Wren said plainly. “The ones who listened.”
“Understood,” Jarvarax said.
“So…” Pax started, raising his hand again. “In terms of why, I know we’re going to help people somehow. But why do you think this strange activity is happening?”
Wren thought about how he wanted to word his answer for a moment, taking a seat with the rest of them as he mulled it over. “There are… a lot of monsters under the sea that would like nothing more than to besiege the world, as I’m sure Seneca could tell you. I suspect the increase in fish in the harbor is likely because they’re being chased there by some bigger fish, which will surely make themselves known soon.”
“Why do you think no one there will listen?” Kishori asked.
Wren needed much less time to think about that one. “Because it’s always easier to see a problem, and choose to let someone else handle it. Not to mention, the city is built on an incline, and when marauders come from the ocean, it’s the poorest people on the shore who are gonna meet the end of a spear first.”
“So we’re the ones that will help?” Eden asked.
“Always.”
“There’s nine of us,” Seneca scoffed.
“I’ve faced more with less.”
“Respectfully, we’re brand new to this, Wren,” Elias added. “Do you really think we’re ready?”
Wren glanced over at Petrichor and Kishori, and laughed heartily. “I’m a man of faith.”
When the experienced slayer walked off with his dinner, Petrichor stood to follow him, leaving the proper Vagabonders alone. For the rest of the night, Seneca regaled the party with specific tales from her escapades in Epollonia over the years, which included parties both bloody and lurid. If she was to be believed, Epollonia was a beautiful portside city where the streets were lively, artists prospered, and the party rarely stopped. The Vagabonders all dreamt about the things they’d see, the food they’d eat, and of course, the fight they’d volunteer themselves for.
At the end of the night, once everyone else was fast asleep, Kishori stood from her bedroll, and made as little noise as possible when she left her tent. Pax was still on watch, so she waved him off, and did her best to tell him she was just taking a walk without actually speaking. Luckily, no one seemed more insightful than him, so he nodded and smiled, and kept his vigil at the fire.
The young priestess wandered about for a few minutes, thinking about her long journey with Wren so far. Are you really ready to take on this responsibility? Are the friends you’ve made ready? Are they worth trusting? Do they trust you? Is the problem in Epollonia really a big deal? Is it too big of a deal for a bunch of vagabonds to handle? Is adventure really the best path for you? It’s certainly not the safest. Would Joh like these people? Would they agree with your choices? … Am I doing them proud?
“Hey. Kishori? You around?”
She came to her senses when she heard Pax whisper a couple dozen feet away, and put herself together. “Yeah, Pax. I’m here.”
Kishori came out from behind the thick trunk of the live oak, her big blue eyes shining like cool, full moons under the shadowy veil of her hair. Her eyes were watery, like she had been crying, but her cheeks weren’t stained, and she wasn’t straining to wear her calm face.
“Okay. Just wanted to make sure you were alright… Feeling nervous about the mission?”
Kishori shrugged. “A little.”
“Yeah. I get that, I feel it too. Forsad was technically the first thing I’d really fought before… Sorry, thing isn’t a good word. Giants are definitely people.”
Kishori chuckled. “Yeah, they are.”
For at least a minute, the two small, simple humans were silent, content to sit in the wise, quiet dark. Far above them, the three moons bathed them in tiny light.
“Anything else you wanna talk about?” Pax asked.
“No. Thank you for the offer though, Pax. You’re a good friend.”
Pax nodded. “I’m doing what anyone would do. And if you ever do want to talk, about anything… I’m around. Always.”
“I’ll take you up on that, friend. Soon, hopefully. But for what it’s worth, not everyone would do what you do. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“Heh. Sure, Ki. I guess that’s fair sometimes.”
“You know, they say my god lives on Io. On the moon. Can you believe that?”
Pax laughed. “Not at all. Imagine what that would be like, to look down at all of us little guys down here on Psedhara. We must be like ants to them…”
“I don’t think they look at us like that. Not her, at least.”
“I don’t either,” Pax agreed. “It must be hard not to, though… I’m sure she’s proud of you.”
In a moment, without having realized that she’d even walked closer, Kishori stepped forward to embrace Pax. She shared a brief hug with him, impressed her gratitude onto his not-so-broad shoulders, and pointed them back in the direction of camp.
“Thanks, Pax. I’ll take the rest of the watch with you.”
With the violet moon on their backs, the hermit and the cleric got back to the camp, and back to business. The target on the live oak behind them, and the urban glow of Epollonia in the distance.
Neither Pax nor Kishori had ever seen the ocean, and surely, they had never seen anything like what the next two years would bring them.