"The first Miratotan invasion of Kagaw was predictable in every sense of the word. The old dynasty had been sending years upon years of offers of vassalisation, annexation, or tributary statehood. It was clear that Miratotan wanted access to the other side of the upper lake, and, well, they would get it no matter what. And they did, technically, conquer Copper Point with their invasion. Of course, the city barely obeyed the emperor even before the civil war, and after? Well, it was as good as a Kagawan city once more. When the new dynasty came to power? Well, they needed to show that they were better than the old one, and what was better for that than conquering the old dynasty's most recent failure." - From an interview with the Hitumin general Alrhe Enthoril.
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The park was beautiful. Uncanny to be certain, given that every plant in the park was at a minimum alien, and at their strangest completely otherworldly. And yet there was something infinitely charming about the small grove of trees wearing a shifting coat of autumn leaves, each one falling and growing at once, forever in cycle, building a soft carpet to tread as he wandered their small patch of the park.
But, that was not the purpose of his visit. No, his gander through the park was strictly for the purpose of attracting as much curiosity as possible. An easy feat, considering the ever-present height difference when compared to those he walked amongst. Which, he could admit, was incredibly strange at first, especially the question of why they had not evolved to reach a height greater than one and a half metres on average. The towering trees nestled in certain areas of the park, ripe with fruit, certainly suggested that there should be an evolutionary need for height. Of course, then he saw a woman the size of a twelve-year-old leap ten metres into the air with the sole purpose of grabbing a particularly colourful leaf, and he was forced to confront a rather simple question.
Why bother evolving to be tall for millions of years when a single generation could simply learn to walk on vertical surfaces, or leap into the skies?
Of course, he would absolutely lie and say that it was horrible and alienating to be taller than everyone else if it got him an advantage of any kind. But, in his own thoughts, August could admit that he found it quite fun to bask in their attention and, to a certain extent, awe. Although, the awe could certainly be due to his... unique stage of cultivation, at least for a person in his stage of life. None, that is. Of course, they didn’t know that, and thought him to be a profound cultivator from a strange land.
But no matter how pleasant the park was, a delightful walk was not his main purpose at the moment. No, he would need to find a suitably aesthetically pleasing area to sit in quietly as he waited for a curious cat to approach him. Or at least stare at him for long enough that there was a significant difference between their gaping time, and the average gaping time, so he could reasonably approach them to teasingly call them out. Or to non-teasingly call them out, if it struck his fancy.
He had considered the autumn grove, but while it was most definitely tranquil, he had no way of preventing the inevitable build-up of fallen leaves, which would ruin his meagre reputation.
That decision was one he was almost beginning to regret as time passed and landscapes changed, yet he found no place of greater beauty. That, of course, was the moment he found an actual perfect spot. The tree seemed ordinary in all respects at first glance - the leaves admittedly being a bit blue for his conservative earthly tastes - yet at closer inspection, they seemed to have a rather special trait which he had not immediately noticed.
A branch, ordinary in so far as his mortal senses could tell, had been laid upon the roots some time ago. This by itself was almost as far from interesting as anything could conceivably get, however, the fact that the roots themselves had seemingly cradled the stick for utmost comfort was intriguing indeed. In fact, so long as he timed it correctly so that no passer-by was there to see him sitting around on a bunch of roots waiting for them to grow into a seat, then a ‘spontaneous’ throne of roots was quite the perfect setting for an ‘inconspicuous’ unknowable master. August held back a smirk as he realised that he was really trying to achieve the cultivation equivalent of naturally great bedhead. But, no, he could not smirk. It would not do for anyone to see his current persona smirking into the distance. Far too maniacal for a benevolent supreme being.
As it turned out, the process of sculpting a throne of roots was far more arduous than he first expected. This was specifically due to the fact that the roots simply took the form of whatever was in contact with it, rather than fashioning themselves into a throne simply for the sake of it. So, he spent a solid fifteen minutes hovering just above the roots, allowing them to almost reach him until he further distanced himself. Finally, a seat was made, and with nothing else to do, he pulled his copy of Starfinder from his satchel, and began to read through it. He supposed he could have tried his computer, however, that would still be too foreign.
He was going for an intriguing stranger, after all. Not ‘UNKNOWN SUSPECT APPEARS TO BE USING A FOREIGN ARTIFACT, APPREHEND IMMEADIATLY’.
August was drawn into the pages of Starfinder as he waited, imagining what adventures he might have hosted had he not been wrenched into another world. It was frustrating, really. He had just been about to sit down with his players for their very first session - which would have been a grand time, even if significantly less fun without her there - when he was suddenly stranded in another world. A decently fantastic world, as far as he could tell, but another world nonetheless.
Not even the slightest warning so that he could prepare! Simply a sudden - and honestly lacklustre from the side of whoever teleported him - appearance in another world!
August took a moment to calm himself from the annoyance that was building. He knew it would soon force movement, through pacing or finger tapping or anything else, and that was not something he could afford. He knew not the extent of the powers people possessed here. He could not afford mistakes at the moment. No, now was the time for calm consideration. August held back another smirk as he looked down to the page he happened to be on, which happened to impress upon players the importance of remembering available resources. He supposed that was good advice.
So, what did he have available? He had three Pathfinder books, a dice pouch, a set of Bluetooth headphones with limited battery, a phone with limited battery, and of course a PC yet again with limited battery. None of the listed items were particularly useful for his current scheme, even if he could use his phone to measure out the length of a day here.
No, for the issue at hand, his appearance held far greater weight. His rough spun linen shirt was a lucky choice, if only due to the fact that it was his only shirt, and was far more suited to being dirtied than a dress shirt. Mainly due to the fact that a dirty linen shirt spoke of Uncharted-esque adventures, while a dirty dress shirt spoke of too much alcohol leading to a drunken and unplanned venture into the woods. His dark pants were also decently made, at least from a modern perspective, and his shoes were simply the dark ‘leather’ hiking boots he always wore.
What was a problem was how different he was from the surrounding masses. The common attire tended to be far airier than what he wore - and also unisex, it seemed - with an outer, billowing layer meant to ward off the sun’s light while allowing airflow. His ‘cultivation’ explained his lack of need for such things - and reminded him of how important it was to avoid sunburns when he should not even feel such things - and his foreign nature explained why he had a different style, so no issue there. However, he did need to adjust to match the more subtle trends of styles here. An extra opened button here, a slight tug on his pants to create visible skin and the illusion of breathability there, all minor things, to match the aspects they prioritised in their clothes. Nothing large, but enough that he would be exotic, rather than uncanny. Or, well, that his clothing would be exotic. He was rather sure that his wildly unusual appearance had long since given him permanent residency within the uncanny valley.
Hours passed, yet as luck would have it, he seemed to have arrived early in the day, and the sun still shone brightly overhead. Or, given the fact that it had seemingly barely moved, it could be that days were simply far longer here than what he was used to. It mattered little, really, seeing as he was rather sure he had plenty of daylight left either way, and had so far as he could tell just found his accomplice. Or Patsy, if one wished to be utterly honest. Luckily, he had no such wish, so he could comfortably call her things with far less morally dubious connotations.
She had been staring at him for quite a while. Long enough for it to be rude, really. Long enough, in fact, that he could realistically confront her on her staring. The only matter left to decide was the exact nature of his persona. What he needed his persona to be able to accomplish was quite simple, as he quite really only needed it to give him an excuse to never do anything strenuous himself, seeing as he would be quite unable to do anything that even the denizens of this world thought to be difficult.
He could be cold, harsh, and demanding. It was the easy choice, with a simple fear of his wrath forcing others to obey without command. But such a persona was also far too fragile, mainly due to his utter lack of understanding of the role that cultivation played within society and the social hierarchy. There were clearly distinctions between the levels, as seen through the terms of address, but that could just as well mean that anyone who held significant power was expected, or even required by law, to act benevolently.
That, and it was inevitable that he would be caught at some point. The ruse of being so powerful was simply not sustainable.
It seemed to him that a teasing, but fundamentally affable, persona would suit the situation best. The teasing could be used as an effective excuse to foist off tasks he was incapable of on to others, and so long as he was proportionally affable, the chances of a violent reaction were minimal.
He took a moment to consider his tone, body language, and other matters of personality and fundamental self-expression which he would have to change for any chance at success. He had four fundamental aspects of ‘himself’ that he needed to express. Friendliness, playfulness, contentedly lazy on a certain level, and lastly a slight tendency to dismiss others. His tone should be warm, with an underlying note of humour as if all he saw was amusing in some way. Perhaps a note of dismissal, especially when presented with new information? Yes, that would make his continued ignorance far more believable, and allow him to slip away if necessary, by dismissing anyone beginning to catch on.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
His body language should then be what communicated his approach to life. He should not be lazy in a rude manner, such as slumping or other such actions, no, it should be more of an unconscious languidness, a remnant of his mortal life where even then he would have moved a bit slower than those around him. His gestures should be curved, rather than coming to a sharp halt when they had served their purpose, instead spilling over, allowing life’s momentum to carry through him.
Yes, that was indeed quite neat.
August lifted his head, allowing it to loll back and connect with the tree rather than stopping it. He made eye contact with the girl, teetering between a smile and a smirk as he raised his eyebrows at her in question.
“You know, I do actually have a couple of matters to attend to, however, if you feel the need to stare at me this desperately, then I could be persuaded to extend my time here to pose for a painting if you find a sufficiently quick artist.” The girl was not highly distinct from the average passer-by. Her skin, hair, and eyes were dark to differing degrees. Her hair was curled and short. Her face was round and her eyes large and expressive. She was the height of a twelve-year-old. She carried a gleaming sword at her side, and appeared to be armoured in padded leather… Well, that was perhaps a bit different from the norm, especially considering that even the guards carried only shepherd’s crooks - Which, on a slight tangent, seemed to be an inordinately common symbol within the city, presumably due to a cultural significance he should learn of as soon as possible.
August found that his comment and direct eye contact was rather effective when it came to breaking her out of her apparent trance. She shook her head and smiled at him with a bit of embarrassment.
“Yeah, sorry about that, I just… Well, I guess you know why people are staring at you by now, so I suppose I was just extra curious about… you,” She smiled at him, trying to avoid the word freak and it’s like.
“I do indeed,” August rose from his throne of roots and strode away in a random direction. When there was a distinct lack of following steps - not that he expected her to follow a stranger for no real reason - He turned to cock his head at her. “Well? Come along now, we don’t have time to dilly-dally. I have business at the district centre to attend to, and you have a stranger to stare at. A perfect match, really, for you to show me the way to the centre, and stare at me all the while.” August smirked as he walked away without waiting for her to follow him.
She ran to catch him, before hurriedly explaining, “Okay, to be clear, I don’t want to keep staring at you.”
“Perfect! Not the lack of staring, mind you, as I have no opinion on that, but the fact that you nowhere in that sentence denied being my guide. Now, lead on, if you would.”
She looked to consider for a moment, before shrugging and keeping pace beside him - even if that meant walking at an ever so slightly superhuman pace - as they introduced themselves properly and held friendly conversation as they walked.
Before long, they arrived at the district centre, a large building made of the same sandstone-like material of the poorest of the rich along the way of roses. On a fundamental level, it had the same design as most other buildings within the city, with a rather Roman design of coulombs carrying overhangs out of the building itself. There were however also marked differences, such as the arches between the coulombs, and the fact that there was clearly an office with proper glass windows inside of the coulomb-supported overhang. There was also a magnificent statue of a woman wielding a shepherd’s crook in between the stairs leading to the two entrance points.
She was depicted in quite the Gandalf-like pose, with her crook stretched forwards before her, the tip seemingly made of copper. She was portrayed as very traditionally beautiful, with long curled hair flowing behind her as though there was a powerful wind which she stood against. That image was supported by the incredibly realistic cloak billowing behind her, and her pose, which made it seem as though she was marching steadfastly through hard winds. She was also wearing something between a toga and a tank top, leaving her arms exposed, even as she wore baggy pants and bare feet below the layered top.
Of course, the most striking part of the statue was the seamless transition from the white marble of her clothes and what little was seen of her lower body, to Silver-Streak marble for her upper body and shepherd’s crook. It was quite a sight to see the bright silver become more and more common the closer to the tip of the crook it was. The twin horizontal streaks beneath her eyes; tracing towards her ears were also rather splendid on the part of the artist.
“You know, the statues supposedly come alive if anyone attacks their district centre. No idea if it’s true, given that the Miratotans avoided attacking these places like the plague when they invaded. Some people even think that’s the point of them; making sure that attacking all the most important administrative centres is more trouble than it’s worth so the city can be rebuilt easily.” Yavaril said, and although August could not be certain, he was almost sure it was to get him to get on with it and open the massive doors to the administrative heart of the district.
They walked through the already open doors of the building, a lucky happenstance indeed, considering that their size and depth would make it impossible for him to open them. The inside was equally as big and grandiose as the outside, with lines upon lines of clerks attending to the matters of state, or, if they were unoccupied by citizens, sitting in what he assumed to be quiet cultivation. The booths themselves were intricately carved, dark wood seemingly without seams. August was beginning to get the impression that seamless furniture was far harder to make than he could imagine, especially when made from multiple materials, and that the entire room was made to show the might of the state. Well, at least the carvings on the booths themselves were far too vague to be propaganda. Rather than specific figures, it seemed to simply be a random assortment of faceless figures accomplishing things such as dragon-slaying and sailing against the high seas.
The booth Yavaril led him to was centrally placed within the room, with a depiction of the same crook-wielding woman in the centre of the carvings, pointing from a very high place down to a verdant valley. A long line of people seemed to be following her, and August was quite sure that the decision to make the people small and pitiful was utterly intentional, as was the placing in the centre. Someone wanted it to be clear that children and their future were at the centre of the state’s concerns.
The clerk himself was about fifteen if August had to guess, and with his friendly face and relaxed smile, as he cultivated quietly, August surmised that he was given the position due to a predisposition towards children. That, and the toys scattered throughout his booth was a bit of an indication.
“Is there an established norm for waking people from their cultivation?” August asked, before ‘coming to a realization’ and smiling brightly at Yavaril. “Oh, why do I even bother asking? I have a perfectly good guide ready and eager to kick people at my command until they wake to do my bidding, right?”
Yavaril stared at him like he was mad “You don’t kick people to wake them up. That’s incredibly rude and dangerous. It might even be illegal if I’m not totally wrong.”
“Well, I am fine with you using a method of your choice, so long as we can agree that you never denied that you would wake him up,” August said, smiling winningly at her like she had actually agreed to do him a favour.
Yavaril sighed and shook her head, but none the less moved to wake the clerk from his cultivation. Then she halted. She turned to look at him. Her eyes narrowed. August was almost certain that she didn’t know something was wrong. That logical assuredness made it no easier to stare into her eyes as she considered him. Thankfully, he was quite up to the task of pretending that nothing was wrong. His posture was relaxed, slumped slightly to one side so that his leg would simply need to stay straight to support his body. The perfect lazy position.
“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you? You ask me to do something, then say something wild to get me to focus on that so you can go ‘Oh, well you didn’t say no, so that means yes!’ and avoid doing anything yourself.”
August relaxed internally while showing no external sign of change. Good, she had no idea about the slightly bigger game of deception he was playing.
“Well, yes. However, I am not going to stop doing it, since it still works sometimes even when people know about it, and that means that I avoid work, and, really, what is more important, avoiding work, or a couple of ruined friendships? I’d say friendships, but I have this tendency to pick avoiding work whenever work is actually involved.” August said, clearly ironic in his tone, which he only emphasised when he walked towards the man and gently tapped the bell he only now noticed. It wouldn’t do, after all, to lose his relationship with the person whose house he planned to stay at, and as such it needed to be clear that he was only joking, a task best done by actively contradicting his own words as he said them.
It also worked, if the slightly amused eye roll he received was an indication.
The man startled awake, casting his gaze about before immediately settling on the giant before him, causing a brief moment of stunned silence before he spoke with a smile.
“Normally I’d ask where the kid is, but, well, the proportions are kind of right for her to be the kid with how tall you are.”
“If we did say that yes, she is my daughter, would that let you give us a common cultivation method without having to bother telling you the details of why we need it?” August asked, smiling at the clerk as he bent forwards to lean on the desk and minimize his looming as much as possible.
The clerk pulled a scroll from beneath his desk, holding it up questioningly. “This is what you want? But you’re both already cultivators? And, well, I can’t just give it away, especially to foreigners,” He looked August up and down, “which I am comfortable guessing that you two are, or at the very least you.”
“Very observant of you to catch on to that, I am, after all, just a regular bloke.” August gave a self-aware smirk as he rose to his full height and spread his arms, before giving the clerk the same excuse of a traveller attempting to compile a book on other cultures.
“Look, I’d like to just give you this, I mean, I give it out half a hundred times a day, and that’s just in this district office, but I can’t. I could, with your… qualifications, get you a meeting with the district head in a couple of days or so, but other than that, I’m powerless.” He said with an apologetic shrug.
“Well, that is a bit of a bother. Oh well, it has been a pleasure to meet you, clerk boy, we will probably never meet again seeing as I will only be staying here for a short time longer, and, well, I have a bit of a standard deal worked out where I help out a bit around the city on my path back to where I hail from. But, I understand your conundrum, and will be taking my leave.”
August knew what he was doing. The clerk knew what he was doing. Every moron with half a brain knew what he was doing. He was giving clerk boy the obvious choice of skirting the line of his jurisdiction and gaining the favour of an unknowable cultivator or doing exactly as he was told while alienating a powerful figure. It was simple and incredibly transparent, but it was also effective. And August really could not afford a meeting with the district head, not due to time constraints, of course, but due to the fact that he assumed that any figure of some power would be able to see the slight flaws in his movements, which would quickly brand him a pretender. So, unless he could manage a meeting without any movement on his part at all, he was screwed before a powerful cultivator.
“All right, fine, you drive a hard, if very simple, bargain. Take the scroll and do get back to us when you can. With all the trouble stirring in Miratotan, it’s only a matter of time before they try something stupid again.” He threw August the scroll with an amused smile, before turning back to his cultivation immediately. Thankfully, no one was actually paying their little conversation any mind, since all the clerks around were in meditation, so no one could have seen his slight fumble as he caught the scroll.
“So, shall we head to your home, my guide? After all, how could I possibly write a book on culture without living in the home of one of those I study?” August asked, acting as though it was already an established agreement, ignoring the snort of the clerk who clearly heard that he suddenly no longer was in such a hurry.
“I- you know what? Sure. We have a couple of guest rooms. You can stay, even if it was rude of you to lie to him.” She glowered at him at the end, before turning and walking away, August at her heels.