With my newest crisis averted, Haylen went back to her duties, and Mayra scurried off to her own tent to see if she could get her doll moving again. I myself went off to find the bathrooms to relieve myself off all the wine I had been drinking.

Kearse was again standing outside of my tent. Apparently Haylen thought I needed a bodyguard, and since most of her platoon was still apprehensive of me after my argument with Flock, Kearse was the only one willing to take the job. Whether he thought he was protecting me, or protecting the expedition from me, I couldn’t tell.

When I told him where I was going, he led me to a set of the stadium’s bathrooms. I had been afraid that the expedition had dug a latrine pit somewhere, but it seemed that keeping the stadiums restrooms working was one of the mages’ roles in the expedition. Suddenly Mayra’s purpose here seemed much less glamorous.

I had a toilet stall to myself, so I used the privacy as a chance to summon a bit of hot water and give myself quick scrub down. Zombies don’t bleed very much, and I had managed to avoid most of the splatter during the patrol, but even a little bit is sticky and can leave a rash if you don’t clean it off. Most of the expedition camp already smelled like sweat and dead zombies, but I didn’t want to contribute to that if I didn’t have to.

My body had filled out well during my time in Peninsula, and while I was still firmly on the thin side, I no longer had the malnourished appearance that I had started with. There was even a little bit of muscle from all the running and fighting I had been doing. My breasts had rounded out a little bit as well, though I knew I’d never be winning any size competitions.

My skin was as uniformly pale as ever. Despite the number of injuries I had taken, my regenerative abilities were immense, and there wasn’t a single scar in sight. There were more than a few times that I probably should have died from my wounds, but somehow lived through it. I was practically immortal, but while I had occasionally been tempted by thoughts of suicide, I had never been tempted enough to see how far that “practically immortal” extended.

My homunculus body was incredibly malleable, and with enough mana, I could even modify its appearance. I had considered switching to a male form, or even something in between, but decided against it. Whoever I had been was dead. I had been created as a female, so a female I stayed. Also, my clothing didn’t change with me, so any large alterations would have meant that I needed an entirely new wardrobe.

“It’s probably for the best. If I made big changes too often, I’d probably end up with identity issues. I like being able to recognize myself when I look in a mirror.”

I had made a few minor changes, but adding a bit of blue to my hair was the only obvious one. If the me from now stood next to the me from when I first woke up, people would have thought we were sisters. I could still remember the ooze from the witch’s body attaching itself to me, and the few alterations I had made helped my feel like the body was now truly my own.

I had never bothered to remove my bellybutton, but its presence still confused me some times. My horns had remained completely untouched, and despite their infernal origins, they were my favorite feature.

“Horns are cool! Horns are cute! Horns are keratin! Anyone who doesn’t like my horns is probably just jealous that they don’t have their own.”

I would call myself a minor shapeshifter at best. Of all my homunculus abilities, it took the most mana and was the most difficult to control. I was no doppelganger who could copy another person’s appearance in an instant, and frankly, I found the very idea to be both gross and disturbing. Still, being able to make myself as beautiful as I liked had probably left me a little vain, and I was very proud of my appearance.

I had been enjoying the warm water floating around me for longer than I should have, so I dried myself off with some warm air, and changed into some clean clothes from my storage space as quickly as I could. They were the comfortable clothes I usually wore when I was staying home. Baggy sweatpants, and a loose white shirt. Kearse was surprised by the switch when I left the restroom, but had enough tact not to question a lady about what she did in the restroom.

When evening came, Haylen returned to the tent, again with Mayra in tow. Kearse was about to go back to his own, but I convinced Haylen to let him stay. I had only met them today and wasn’t about to rush into friendship as quickly as I could, but I knew I’d be seeing more of them and wanted to get to know them better. It was also a good chance for me to learn about the outside world without having to take in too much information at once.

I pulled out the largest pot I had, which I had never actually used for myself, and introduced them to the wonders of necropolis cuisine by throwing in four cans of mild chicken curry. Haylen had eaten canned food on one of her previous expeditions, but didn’t get in the way of me showing off my “cooking” abilities.

They all said it tasted good, but Kearse and Mayra agreed that it wasn’t spicy enough. Apparently Orlisians liked their food to have a bit of kick to it. I offered them a bit of hot sauce, but Mayra declined, saying that she wanted to try the food the way it was meant to be. Kearse accepted, and was left red in the face and panting when he added too much. I may have forgotten to tell him that it was the strongest hot sauce I had.

Rather than open another bottle of wine, I opened a bottle of something that resembled vodka, and probably was vodka, and mixed it with some of the flat fruity soda I had. Before long we were chatting freely, and I was feeling more relaxed than I had all day.

My crash course on history was kept to the most important details.

Long ago, something had happened to the Ancestors’, and all of their civilizations had been wiped out. For an unknown amount of time, the miasma, the mist that had kept me trapped in this city, had covered the entire world. It was called the Lost Era, because no history had been written, and little knowledge from before or during that time remained. The various races had struggled to survive, and some of them may not have survived at all.

Although the mists receded and society was able to start rebuilding, much of the miasma remained, and large sections of the world were cut off from each other. Mayra compared it to a glass ball that had been shattered and glued back together. Anywhere with a large enough crack was impassable, and dangerous to live near. Occasionally, large clouds of fog would break off from the miasma and drift around, stealing away unwary travelers, and leaving monsters in its wake. The necropoli were the ancient cities that remained in the miasma, and could only be entered or exited through specific paths.

The Arlonian Empire had formed some five hundred years ago, and their first emperor was now worshiped as a god. The primary religion in the empire was a strange, to me at least, form of pantheism. All gods, and even the world itself, were all parts of a single infinite god. Only the lowest gods showed any interest in mortals though, and were the only ones regularly worshipped.

Worship of Arlon was not only the state religion, it was a religion of the state. Worshiping the other gods was allowed, and most nonhuman races did have their own gods, but Arlon had created the empire they lived in, and so it was expected that all would respect him, even if he was not their primary deity. Corlo, for example, was a paladin for the imperial church, but also worshiped Ector, god of the orcs.

Ector was an old god whose worship had been one of the few to make it through the Lost Era. According to both the imperial churches and the orc temples, it had been Ector who had singled out Arlon, and helped him rise to godhood. Just as the two gods were said to be good friends, orcs and humans got along famously.

Orlis, the city and kingdom that the expedition had come from, was predominantly inhabited by humans and orcs. Any city would have a variety of races living there, but these two were the most common in the Orlisian region. It was one of the oldest kingdoms within the empire, and one of the most stable. All three of my dinner companions were happy to boast that its ruling dynasty had gone unbroken since before it had even become part of the empire.

The northern part of the country was arid and dry, but a pair of large rivers coming from the north helped to keep it from becoming a full desert. The southern coast was the opposite, and received frequent rains. The spring rains were apparently in full swing, and Mayra assured me that even the usually dry north was a beautiful sea of green this time of the year.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

As for Haylen, I was surprised to learn that she was not an elf, but a half elf. Bound elves, she said, were the decedents of the fae I had read about. The first ones had appeared some time during the Lost Era, and had tattooed themselves with iron in order to bind themselves to the material world, but had given up their immortality in doing so. Full blooded bound elves were easy to notice, because even though the originals were long dead, the tattoos remained in their bloodlines.

Haylen was also younger than I had thought, being only twenty two. Depending on how I counted my own age, she was the oldest person in the tent. She didn’t know exactly what her lifespan would be, but estimated that she could live to two or three hundred if the natural dangers of life didn’t get her first. Even if the longer lived races could reach several centuries, illness or accident usually caught them well before old age did.

She didn’t know who her father was, and despite her mother being alive, she had grown up at the Arlonian church’s orphanage. Currently she lived at the paladin’s monastery while she received her training. She didn’t seem to want to give many details about her parentage, and I didn’t push the subject. I had things I didn’t want to talk about either, so I wasn’t about to try and force anyone to spill their own secrets.

Haylen’s goal in life was to become a paladin, and she would be going on a pilgrimage around the empire shortly after the expedition returned to Orlis. All imperial citizens were expected to make at least one minor pilgrimage to visit another kingdom or region, but anyone who was to become a paladin or priest had to make a complete circuit of the empire known as the Grand Pilgrimage. Haylen would be traveling for an entire year or more. I was disappointed that I wouldn’t have much of a chance to get to know her before she left, but wished her the best of luck on her travels.

Kearse was a bit embarrassed to give his own backstory. His father and grandfather had moved to Orlis from a southern region called Basker. Kearse himself was a street sweeper like his father, and his mother and sister made brooms. He had joined the militia primarily for the extra pay to help support his family. He even had a third job as a knocker-upper, a name that I found particularly hilarious. On his morning cleaning route, he would knock on doors and windows to wake up the residents that paid him to be their human alarm clock.

He considered himself to be about as normal as an Orlisian could get, and after a few drinks confessed that he didn’t know what to think about everything that had happened today. My own attempts at cheering him up met with failure, but a single, “You’re doing good. Keep it up,” from Haylen had him positively beaming. He clearly held Haylen in the highest respect, and valued her praise. He was at that awkward age where he still held on to youthful optimism, while also wanting to behave like a proper adult.

To everyone’s surprise but Haylen’s, Mayra was not only the daughter of a noble, but she was also Knight-Paladin Damfeld’s niece. I should have made the connection when she introduced herself earlier. She had called herself Mayra Damfeld, but I had been too distracted by the fact that someone other than Haylen had seen my storage space to notice the shared name.

Her father was a minor baron, and she lived with her uncle in Orlis while pursuing her future as a mage. Her reason for becoming a mage was as much from a desire to learn magic as it was a tool she used to avoid unwanted marriages.

“Not many noblemen want to marry a mage,” she complained. “They think we’re too focused on our craft to make good wives. It works well as an excuse to turn down marriage offers I don’t like, but it does make finding a good partner hard. It’s probably true for me though. Most likely I would be too distracted with my studies to get anything else done.”

Kearse was unsure how to act now that he knew he was dining not only with his commanding officer, but with nobility as well. The alcohol seemed to be hitting Mayra a bit harder than the rest of us, and she slapped him on the back while clumsily summoning up a lumpy ice cube for his drink. Conserving her mana was clearly not one of her concerns at the moment. Haylen had apparently gotten used to dealing with nobility during her time at the church, and took it all in stride. I was just happy to be having a normal conversation, and couldn’t care less about the social status of who I was drinking with.

Mayra, now a little red in the face, pulled the automaton doll from out of her belt and held it up, practically shoving the thing at me.

“The crystal’s broken. Gimme a new one,” she demanded. “You’ve got mana crystals the size of melons in your storage space, so don’t tell me you haven’t got any smaller ones.”

She held up a small glass cube that had a metal dot on each side. Altogether it was about the size of a grape. It had a long hairline crack that nearly split it in half, and it was clearly unusable. I reached into my storage and pulled out a spare battery of equal size and shape. I gave it to her, but wasn’t about to charge it for her. I didn’t mind using my mana frivolously now and again, but I still hoarded it like a dragon hoarded gold, and I didn’t want her thinking that I was going to be her personal mana dispenser.

With the history lessons and self-introductions done, everyone started staring at me, and I realized that they were expecting to hear my own story. Haylen had already heard it, but I could understand why she was still curious. My telling of it to the command leaders had been more of a list of events than anything that actually said anything about myself. I had only added in a few minor details here and there to distract them away from asking questions I didn’t want to answer.

I told my tale to the people gathered. I was still careful about not mentioning certain things, but the alcohol had loosened me up, and began to tell them about things that I had avoided even thinking about for years now.

I explained to them what it had been like waking up in a place I didn’t recognize, not knowing who or what I was. I told them about how I loved the witch for making me, but resented her for not being there to guide me. They listened as I talked about choosing a name to help solidify my sense of self.

Apparently I had a lot of pent up emotions about that first week. I didn’t cry again, but I’m sure my voice sounded pained. They were all watching me, but it was with empathy, and I didn’t feel like an object on display again. It felt good, being understood. It was what I had needed for years now.

My story though, was not the light hearted dinner conversation that had carried us through the evening. Once I had finished, our little party ended as well.

* * * * *

When the dinner and conversation was over, Kearse and Mayra went back to their respective tents, and I was now at a loss.

“Where will I be sleeping?” I asked.

“With me,” Haylen replied. “I’m sorry we don’t have any extra tents, but don’t worry about me. I’m used to doubling up on expeditions.”

I pulled my bedroll out of my storage and began looking for a somewhere to place it. Haylen’s tent was roomy, but far from spacious. Our dinner had actually been a bit cramped with four people sitting inside.

“Don’t bother,” Haylen yawned. “We can just put our blankets together and share.”

“Uh…” I had been saying that a lot lately.

Haylen had just finished stripping down, and was wearing only a light shift, and poofy underwear similar to the ones the witch had bought me so long ago. She was a natural beauty, and had a willowy frame with just a hint of curve to it. Her ears and hair color only made her more exotic to me. I had to fight to keep my eyes off her slight chest, and couldn’t help but blush as I looked at her. One of the problems with being so pale is that when I blush, I blush hard and Haylen certainly noticed.

“What?” she asked.

“Well…”

“You like women don’t you,” she stated flatly. It wasn’t a question.

I had had plenty of time to consider my sexuality. One day I had found a sex toy shop similar to the one I had pointed out to Kearse, and had spent the better part of the day… experimenting. Like most things in Peninsula, a lot of it was magic, and sex can be particularly creative once magic gets involved.

Eventually my preferences looked more like a list of fetishes that I did and did not enjoy than a list of genitals I was interested in. I would probably choose women over men in most circumstances, but wasn’t about to claim that I wouldn’t make the occasional exception.

“I don’t dislike men,” I said uselessly. “But… uh… How did you know?”

Haylen rolled her eyes and took the blanket from my arms.

“You weren’t exactly subtle about staring at Mayra’s chest. Kearse wasn’t either, for that matter. And I don’t blame you. I generally prefer men, but even I could stare at those all day. Don’t worry. I don’t think she noticed.”

“Was I staring? I was, wasn’t I? Shit. It looks like my social awareness has taken a nosedive over the years. And Haylen saw? Double shit!”

“I’m a mixed-blood, Indigo. I’m the last person who’s going to be concerned with something like that. Now come to bed. It’s getting dark and I want to sleep.”

“Oh. Right. She’s a half-elf.”

No matter what the combination, people of mixed races were essentially sterile, and that apparently extended to half-elves as well. The stories I had read often depicted them as being promiscuous due their infertility, and it seemed that their lax attitude towards sex hadn’t been entirely exaggerated. Or rather, they probably had such an incredibly normal view of sex that everyone else seemed deviated by default.

Still feeling awkward, I took off my outer clothes, and set them aside. I hesitated about getting under the blankets with Haylen until she grabbed one of my horns and pulled me in. She then proceeded to roll over, mumble a, “Good night,” and before long her steady breathing told me that she was fast asleep.

I had trouble sleeping that night, and it was only partially due to thoughts of the sylvan beauty next to me and the two years of pent up sexual frustration inside of me. Soldiers continued to move about outside, and I had to repeatedly remind myself that the footsteps I heard weren’t coming from undead, but living people.

I did something I hadn’t done in quite a while, and reached my senses outward to feel the presences around me. Normally, the city was so full of undead that I could only detect a giant blur of wrongness that made me sick to my stomach. For the first time though, that blur was distant, and I was surrounded by life. I was finally able to close my eyes, and like counting sheep, I watched the people moving around me.

I woke up several times that night, but whenever I did, I felt Haylen’s presence beside me, both physically and mentally, and could close my eyes again with a smile.