8th day of Highglow, 1369

As the last of the caravan emerged from the dense cover of the Eldergrove, an expanse opened up before them. Nestled below a backdrop of rolling hills, lush farmlands, and misty mountains, a quaint village stood, framed against the sunset sky.

Ingrid squinted as she took in the scene. The buildings were built with sturdy stone and wood, and she could make out the bustle of people going about their business in the streets. A narrow river wound its way through the village, and she caught sight of a small millhouse perched on its banks.

Her eyes were drawn to some of the houses that were distinctly Hrafnsteinnian in design, with their arched roofs and decorative carvings. She could almost imagine the warmth and comfort that awaited them within those walls, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of longing for the familiarity of home.

As she directed her horse toward the main road, she noticed a group of villagers gathered to greet the caravan. They looked like a welcoming bunch, with friendly smiles and outstretched arms.

The soldiers at the head of the caravan shouted in greeting and raised their weapons in salute. Ingrid urged her mount forward, leading her people in an orderly procession as they descended the hill and approached the village.

She spotted Roderick in the crowd, dressed in his signature mercantile garb, his arms spread wide in greeting. Another man, who she could have mistaken for his brother, save for his dark-brown hair and neatly trimmed beard, embraced the merchant heartily.

"Roderick! What an unexpected surprise! Welcome back, my old friend."

"Engin! It is good to see you. It's been a long journey, and we are all tired, but eager to settle in and call Ebonheim our new home."

The man named Engin clapped Roderick on the back. "So it would seem. I didn't expect quite so many to join you." He strained his face to put on a forced smile. "I really wish you'd have warned me much, much sooner. I only heard of your coming from a reliable source just yesterday. You'll have to forgive us for not having prepared proper accommodations. But who could blame us? Eh? You kept your plans in utmost secrecy."

Roderick laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his beard. "Apologies, Engin. The timing of this move was a bit hasty, even for me. I missed the opportunity to leave a message for you when you went to visit Dulgaan last year. Please accept my deepest regrets."

"It's...fine. Well, I suppose I can't expect you to always be as punctual as usual," Engin sighed heavily. "You do seem to be making a habit of these grand entrances, anyway."

Roderick smiled, then motioned towards the caravan. "Allow me to introduce you to some esteemed individuals who've made the journey to Ebonheim. This...is Commander Lorne Miradan, the leader of the Silverguard Mercenary Company."

Lorne approached Engin and bowed slightly, placing a fist to his chest. "Mister Meric, I presume? Pleased to meet you."

Engin blinked, and nodded. "Ah, yes. Mister Meric, a pleasure, to be sure."

"Those are my troop." Lorne motioned to the men and women lined at the edge of the clearing. They offered a crisp salute, then stood at ease, their posture firm and disciplined. "They are disciplined and ready to serve. Each one of them has been vetted and sworn to a contract of loyalty."

"I...see." Engin cast a wary glance at the mercenaries, his eyes roving over their equipment.

Roderick interjected with a laugh, attempting to lighten the mood. "No need to worry, my friend. Lorne and his people will be working for the village, not against it. They won't be doing anything...untoward."

"Of course, of course." Engin nodded.

"And these lovely people are the craftsmen and -women from the famous Les Artisanats d'Éclair." Roderick motioned to a woman clad in elegant silks. "These brilliant, creative minds come to Ebonheim to establish the first artificery workshop in the valley. With them, they have brought the greatest artifices of today, as well as the future. Surely you've seen one of their Aetherframes in action. Incredible, isn't it?"

Evelyne stepped forward and executed a fluid curtsy. Her lavender eyes met Engin's, and the corner of her lip curved upwards. "Bonsoir, Monsieur Meric. Je suis enchantée de faire votre connaissance."

"Err...likewise, Miss..." Engin blinked, taken aback by the foreign language.

"Blaise. Evelyne Blaise," Evelyne offered with a pleasant smile. "Director of Les Artisanats d'Éclair."

Engin gaped at her, unable to respond.

Roderick nudged him discreetly, whispering, "Ahem. I think you'd be impressed to learn that our dear Evelyne speaks eight different languages, Engin."

"Really?" Engin mumbled, still a little stunned.

As Engin was about to offer a handshake, a young man garbed in a long coat, a loose shirt, and rugged trousers approached from behind those gathered and stepped in front of Evelyne to shake Engin's hand with his mechanical arm. His azure hair hung loosely over his forehead, partially covering his striking hazel eyes, and a lopsided grin played across his face.

"Well met, mister Engin," the young man said. "My name is Orin Webb, Chief Artificer of the Ethervein Enclave."

Orin smiled before shooting Evelyne a wink, then returning his attention to Engin. "I must say, this is a lovely village you have here. It has a lot of potential to grow and develop with the right kind of support. The Ethervein Enclave is at your service."

The corner of Engin's mouth twitched, but he recovered quickly. "Th-Thank you, sir. I didn't realize that there were two prestigious Artificer companies among the newcomers."

Evelyne stepped forward and placed a hand on Engin's shoulder, flashing a coy smile. "Non, Monsieur Meric. There is no rivalry or animosity between us. Les Artisanats d'Éclair is thrilled to collaborate and share resources with the Ethervein Enclave, given their expertise. Our two organizations are like two sides of a coin. Complementary. Perfectly aligned to help Ebonheim thrive. Together, we seek to create an ambitious project that will benefit the entire Eldergrove Valley."

She shot Orin a pointed look, and the man gave her a noncommittal shrug.

"Ambitious for one, perhaps. As for me, I'm content with just producing the finest artifice in the valley. And we're quite capable of doing that alone. Our goals are not so lofty. Are they, Madame Director?" he added with a cheeky wink.

Evelyne's eyes twitched in annoyance, but her pleasant smile remained intact. She stepped forward until she was face-to-face with Orin. "Certainement. En effet."

The two Artificers stared at each other with strained smiles. The tension was palpable, and the crowd watched in awkward silence as they waited to see who would make the first move.

Ingrid couldn't help but stifle a chuckle as she observed the exchange. The Artificers' drama seemed to be a common occurrence, judging by the resigned expressions on the faces of the others present.

Roderick cleared his throat loudly, gesturing to a few individuals who lingered further back in the crowd. "Right, well, if we may continue with introductions, Engin, let me present to you a few more people I want you to meet. The shieldmaiden standing patiently yonder is—"

A gravelly voice boomed from behind Engin. "Ingrid! By Ebonheim, is it really you?"

Turning, Ingrid saw a familiar face, a beacon from her past. "Bjorn! Old bear!" Her heart leapt in her chest.

Before she knew what was happening, she was swept off the ground by powerful arms. Ingrid let out a whoop of delight as she clung to the burly warrior, the world spinning as he spun her in a circle.

"It's been moons, Bjorn," Ingrid said as he set her down.

"Too many moons," he rumbled, gripping her shoulders firmly. "I never thought you'd be one of the ones to arrive with the caravan. Who else did you bring with you?"

Ingrid grinned, pointing at the group of Hrafnsteinn exiles at the far back. "They're all here, Bjorn. The Sedlars, the Ulfarssons, the Steinnes, and many more. They all followed me."

Bjorn's gaze shifted, and a slow, crooked grin split his rugged face. "You sure brought quite a retinue with you, lass. I bet Nidur wasn't pleased to find out more of us had slipped his grasp. I can just picture the indignation on his rigid face!"

Ingrid's face flushed with pride. "Indeed, but we will speak of this later. For now, it is nice to meet with you again, old bear. How is Thorsten?"

"Alive and more rounded in the belly." Thorsten's voice spoke from behind Engin.

Thorsten sidled next to Bjorn. The man's red hair was tied in a knot and his braided beard was longer than the last time they'd met, but he was the same Thorsten. Ingrid found herself grinning, and in spite of herself, she leaned in to hug him.

"You're one lucky bastard to be alive, you know that? When you were arrested for speaking out against Nidur, I was sure you'd be hung from the gallows, or worse, used for sport by the god's dogs."

"Bah, luck had nothing to do with it!" Thorsten declared. "You and Bjorn knew what you were getting into when you came to free me that night."

"Indeed, but that doesn't mean we weren't scared shitless," Ingrid countered, arching an eyebrow.

Thorsten gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Regardless, we succeeded and are all the better for it. But enough about me, lass. I see you've brought many of our old friends with you."

"I have." Ingrid nodded. "Nidur was growing more mad by the season, and it was time to get away. Nearly a third of our people in Hrafnsteinn left during the past few years, and those who chose to stay..." she shook her head, her expression clouding.

"Aye, but you should be glad that you had the courage to do what needed to be done, and to gather those who would listen. Many more would've eventually joined you in exile." Bjorn patted her shoulder sympathetically. "Take heart, lass. Ebonheim is a place where we can all start fresh and live in peace."

"It'll be a nice change of pace, for sure," Thorsten added, smiling broadly. "You'll not believe how many Hrafnsteinn traditions Engin has revived in this quaint little village. It's like stepping back in time and experiencing the days of the early settlers."

Ingrid glanced over at Engin, who continued conversing with Roderick and the two Artificer guild representatives. It was difficult to gauge his reaction, but his expression was contemplative.

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"Will the rest of the villagers be accepting of us, Thorsten?" she asked, her tone laced with worry. "I can only imagine what they're thinking of all this commotion."

"Worry not, lass," Bjorn replied with a reassuring smile. "Ebonheim is full of wonderful, understanding people who'll gladly welcome you with open arms."

"That is, so long as you aren't an arsehole," Thorsten amended with a mischievous smirk.

"The reigning arsehole in the village is proudly smirking in front of you," Bjorn deadpanned. "As long as you don't plan on usurping his position, you should be fine. The village hasn't kicked him out yet, so you have that working for you."

Ingrid burst into laughter. She clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle her mirth, not wanting to disrupt the discussion that was happening. "Thank you for the warning. I'll keep it in mind."

Thorsten coughed, pretending to be offended. "Now that's not fair. I've grown somewhat respectable over the seasons. Have I not, Bjorn?"

"Who told you that lie?"

Ingrid raised her hand to draw their attention before their banter continued. "Speaking of the village, I would have thought that the goddess, Ebonheim, would be here to meet us. Has something happened?"

The two men exchanged a glance, then smiled.

"You'll meet her later tonight. We've prepared an outdoor feast for your arrival," Bjorn informed. "There's a large enough clearing not far from here that'll provide sufficient space for everyone to gather and partake in the festivities."

"That sounds wonderful," Ingrid replied, a hint of relief in her voice. "We'll all need the rest. The trip from Hrafnsteinn has not been easy."

"Aye, but the hardest part's behind you all," Thorsten declared, thumping her shoulder. "Feast and rest tonight, and tomorrow, you can get yourselves settled."

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Lorne sat cross-legged at a wooden table laden with roasted boar, fruits, and vegetables. The aromas were intoxicating, and his stomach rumbled in anticipation. Around him, the villagers and newcomers alike reveled in song, dance, and conversation.

He was seated with his soldiers, who seemed to be enjoying themselves. Their eyes darted back and forth, taking in the sights and sounds. The mercenaries had been surprised by the warm welcome they'd received from the villagers, and they'd readily accepted the invitation to join in the celebration.

The food was delicious, and the ale flowed freely. Lorne had barely touched his mug, but he couldn't fault his men for indulging. They deserved it after their long journey.

Across from his group, he spotted Evelyne and a few members of the Artisans of the Spark. They'd changed out of their travel clothes and were dressed in fine silk tunics and pants. Evelyne's hair was piled on top of her head, held in place with a delicate silver comb. She appeared to be deep in conversation with one of her fellow Artificers.

He took another sip of ale, allowing himself to relax as he enjoyed the night's atmosphere. The firelight danced across the faces of the villagers and newcomers, casting them in a soft orange glow. Voices echoed throughout the clearing, creating a low hum of background noise.

"Commander," Kaela, who'd been drinking ale with the mercenaries, turned to face him. "Are you alright?"

Lorne suppressed a yawn, waving a hand in dismissal. "Yes. Just a bit weary. The journey was tiring, and I'm still not used to being around this many people. It's a bit...overwhelming. I'll be fine after some rest."

Kaela chuckled softly, glancing over at the group of mercenaries, who were engaged in a raucous game of dice. "The men seem to be enjoying themselves, Commander. Even Deneve."

Lorne followed her gaze. Indeed, even his stoic lieutenant was participating in the game, albeit a bit reservedly. Urien stood off to the side, watching the others with amusement. He clapped his massive hands and bellowed a few words of encouragement.

"It's good to see them like this," Lorne mused, a rare smile playing on his lips. "We haven't had a chance to unwind since leaving Dulgaan. They deserve the respite."

"True." Kaela agreed, polishing off her ale. "Perhaps you should take your own advice and enjoy yourself, Commander."

Lorne scowled at her. "I am. In moderation."

She returned the glare and was about to comment before Deneve called out, "Come on, Commander! Join us!"

Lorne rolled his eyes and rose to his feet. "Very well, if I must. Let's see what I can do, shall we?"

The rest of his men cheered, and he sat at the edge of the gathering. Laughter and the sound of clinking mugs filled the air as he joined in the festivities.

A few drinks in, Lorne found himself relaxing into the moment. His shoulders loosened, and the tension in his spine melted away. He listened to the music, tapping his foot along to the beat. The mood was infectious, and he couldn't help but join in the merriment.

Some time later, a bell tolled from the center of the clearing where a large bonfire blazed. A hush fell over the crowd as Engin rose from his seat next to Roderick. He lifted a cup high in the air, signaling for everyone's attention.

"Welcome, all!" His voice echoed across the clearing. "We, the residents of Ebonheim, are proud to host such a distinguished gathering of friends, families, and newcomers. I am honored to stand amongst such esteemed company, and I cannot express how excited I am to welcome you to our humble village."

A roar of approval went up from the crowd, and Engin paused a moment to allow them to applaud.

Then, he continued, "This is a day of celebration. We come together in fellowship, celebrating the arrival of our new neighbors and the bond of kinship and friendship that unites us. Today marks a new beginning, and I hope you'll take the time to mingle, and to get to know one another. But first, you must be wondering where our patron goddess is. Is she not gracing the occasion with her presence? I have an answer for that."

There was a brief pause as the villagers and newcomers murmured amongst each other.

Engin bowed and gestured towards the center of the clearing, where a platform had been prepared, ornate and bedecked with blossoms of every imaginable hue.

"Here is our village's patron deity, our beloved goddess, Ebonheim."

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image [https://i.imgur.com/E0aGRUf.png]

Amidst the vast expanse of the Eldergrove clearing, under a sky studded with countless stars, the crowd grew silent in awe. Colorful lanterns hung from the trees that lined the clearing, swaying gently with the night breeze and casting their mellow light onto the people below. The crackling of the campfire and the gentle breeze rustling through the trees were the only sounds to be heard as the people of Ebonheim and the newcomers alike looked upon the stage.

As Lorne and the others gazed in rapt attention, chimes jingled in a rhythmic tune.

From the heavens above, a golden luminescence began to manifest. It started as a mere pinprick, barely noticeable against the vast tapestry of the night. But with each passing moment, the light swelled, radiating a divine energy that bathed the clearing in its ethereal glow.

The golden brilliance descended gracefully, its luminosity unfurling like the petals of a celestial flower. And from within this radiant cocoon emerged a figure of unparalleled majesty—Ebonheim.

She stood suspended in mid-air, her form adorned in regal white, resplendent with intricate golden patterns that mirrored the constellations above. Her lustrous silver hair flowed like a river of moonlight, cascading over her shoulders and down her back, adorned with a halo that was both crown and sun.

At that instant, Lorne felt the very breath being snatched from his lungs as he gazed upon the deity's resplendent countenance. Never did he expect a deity to resemble a human so...perfectly. Her features were refined, bearing a divine beauty that seemed to transcend mere mortal standards of attractiveness.

Her golden eyes, serene and piercing, sparkled like stars, their glimmer rivaling that of the moon itself. Her sun-kissed skin, smooth and unblemished, radiated a faint, unearthly glow. Her frame, slender and lithe, moved with a grace and fluidity that could only be described as otherworldly.

She descended gently, her feet touching the platform beneath her in a graceful landing. Her hair billowed behind her, shimmering as it caught the light. Her divine aura washed over the audience, bathing them in its warm glow.

Time seemed to halt. The entire assembly, including the rowdy mercenary group, stared in hushed awe. No one dared move. No one dared utter a single sound. They could only watch in reverent silence, as if spellbound.

Ebonheim spread her arms, and the very atmosphere shimmered with magic. She then brought her palms together in a gentle clap, the forest around them seemingly responding to her command as the trees came alive.

Their limbs stretched and twisted, their bark cracking and peeling as they slowly stood. The sound of snapping branches echoed through the clearing as they crept towards the goddess, their trunks rippling with the movement of hidden roots.

Each tree, five in all, stood tall and proud, looming over the stage like mighty sentinels. Their leaves fluttered and their limbs creaked as they turned to face the crowd, their verdant eyes glowing with an emerald light.

As they loomed over her, Ebonheim raised her hands in a flourish, her palms alight with a soft golden glow. She closed her eyes, and the light flickered, causing the trees to freeze in their places, their movements ceasing as if in a state of eternal sleep.

She turned to face the audience, her gaze sweeping across the crowd. Her eyes, golden and all-seeing, locked with each person present, sending a shiver down their spines. She clasped her hands, and the forest fell silent once more, her aura fading as the trees returned to their former, static states.

Lorne overheard Evelyne murmuring to her subordinate. "Oh mon Dieu, she is magnificent. J'ai l'impression que je n'ai pas vraiment ma place ici. Elle est si belle... Mon cœur palpite."

The other Artificer, who'd been introduced to Lorne as Dimitri, whispered back. "I have to agree with you on that one, mon amie. Roderick's depiction of her does no justice to the actual sight, hein?"

Lorne agreed. Roderick's descriptions of the deity were poetic, but her appearance far surpassed any of his expectations.

Ebonheim finally lowered her arms as the last rays of divine energy faded, the glow of her hair dissipating and leaving a soft radiance in its wake. Her smile was tender and sincere.

"Good evening, all," she greeted, her melodious voice resonating through the clearing, silencing even the faintest of whispers. "And thank you for gathering here at such a late hour. I am Ebonheim. The patron deity of this village, and I wish to personally welcome all of you to my village."

She paused as the crowd murmured in response, before continuing, "For those who have arrived today, your journey has surely been a long one. I ask that you rest well. Tomorrow, there will be a meeting to discuss what I hope to be a new era of growth for Ebonheim. To our new citizens, I sincerely hope you can find happiness in your new home, and I look forward to getting to know all of you as the seasons pass. Please, do not hesitate to approach me or anyone else with your questions or concerns. We are all equals here, and no request is too trivial. So long as the welfare of Ebonheim and all who inhabit it is taken to heart, we can ensure peace and prosperity for all. Now, enjoy the festivities, and may this night be one you never forget."

The crowd responded with thunderous applause. Several of the villagers shouted their appreciation, while others whistled and cheered.

A few of the newcomers even wept openly. Lorne couldn't help but chuckle as he recalled how awestruck they'd been when Roderick first introduced them to the idea of a god willing to dwell among humans. The villagers were certainly fond of their goddess, and seeing how the newcomers reacted to her made Lorne think that Ebonheim might have won over their loyalty in one swoop.

He looked over at his company and noted that they had an interesting range of reactions. Some were stone-faced, while others bore curious, if not intrigued expressions. He wondered if some of the newer recruits had seen a real, living god before, and if they'd encountered one during their service. He'd have to ask about it later, after the party had settled down a bit.

Kaela, the most expressive of them, looked at him, raising an eyebrow and tilting her head in the direction of their tents, indicating for them to retire. He nodded and silently agreed to follow her lead. They quietly slipped away, and he let her guide him by the elbow through the crowd.

As Lorne and Kaela took their leave, they passed by the Artificer contingent. Evelyne, who'd been conversing with a few of the Ebonheim villagers, turned her attention to the mercenary commander, making eye contact for a fleeting moment before he slipped out of her view.

"Well, this was an unexpected turn of events." Dimitri remarked. "Is she a real god? No one has told me that even gods could look so...human. Shouldn't a god's physical form be, say, a pillar of pure flame or an avian beast of immense size, or anything less humanoid?"

Evelyne was surprised to hear the skepticism in his voice, but his questions were valid. After all, the gods they were accustomed to usually had non-human appearances, or at least, humanoids that reflected their domains. Ebonheim was...different.

"If you had the sense to peer into her aura with your Arcane Sight, you'd know she's very much a genuine goddess," Evelyne countered. "No Arcane spell could fake that energy signature so she's not some human masquerading as a goddess."

Dimitri crossed his arms, shaking his head in disbelief. "How is this even possible? I've never read a single account of a god taking a human form, nor one who willingly lives among mortals."

"Neither have I, to be honest. This is truly unprecedented," Evelyne replied, a hint of awe creeping into her voice. "But there's always a first for everything. Perhaps Ebonheim is proof that our knowledge of the gods is not infallible. It is not the first time we've encountered an anomaly. The very existence of a Magitech in our era is an anomaly, oui? That means we cannot afford to be complacent. What Ebonheim represents is not simply an anomaly; it is a paradigm shift. A god, who looks like a mortal and dwells amongst them. It could be the start of something new."

"Or the end of something old," Dimitri replied grimly. "Artifice will always evolve, but will the gods follow suit?"

Evelyne curled her lips into a smile, her gaze returning to Ebonheim, who was mingling with the guests. "Only time will tell, mon cheri Dimitri. Only time will tell. If her actions match her words, then Ebonheim holds the promise of a better future for the village, and for us."