Congratulations! Your Fatepiece the Hierarchy of Burden has grown to Level 2!

Randidly released a slow breath as he felt his Fatepiece establishing a sympathetic link between the crimson bottom of the inverted pyramid and his body. He was sitting with his legs crossed beneath him, imitating the meditating Nether Gatekeeper population. Small tremors ran through his arms and legs intermittently and his tail was almost constantly sweeping back and forth, but absorbing the dangerous drag of the Hierarchy was more manageable than he had thought.

The feeling was unfamiliar, but not uncomfortable.

Randidly carefully raised his hand and moved each of his fingers in turn, watching his digits tremble and stutter even with his extremely high Fidelity of the Ascendant Moirae. Maybe it’s due to my high Stats… but rather than pain… the real issue is the random muscle contractions…

Learning to handle this will greatly increase my physical control...

Crimson bolts of snaking electricity occasionally sparked to life across his body. They exploded from nothing, sprinted across some of his surrounding flesh, then faded as they ran out of animating force. Every one of his cells seemed to be charged with the energy flowing through him, steadily nurturing these brief births. His musculature was steadily adapting to the energy’s presence, but the rather random manifestations were difficult to account for.

Randidly’s focus shifted back to his Fatpiece and he felt himself proceed deeper into the electromagnetic layer. The sympathetic connection strengthened. Instantly, the sensation of buzzing across his body intensified and he could only bare his teeth to the dark, Nether rich air of the shaft.

Congratulations! Your Fatepiece the Hierarchy of Burden has grown to Level 3!

With the increase in intensity, Randidly could feel the electric discharge flowing through his body as though it was alive. The random electric serpents were birthed more quickly, sometimes even in grand batches as though someone had kicked over a basket full of the bastards.

Gradually, Randidly’s legs spread beneath them and his limbs extended and twitched. Behind him, his tail was alternatively shivering and madly sweeping back and forth in the darkness. The soft hair of the tail was sticking straight outward. The electricity seemed alive, swimming down to small and forgotten muscles in Randidly’s body and forcefully tightening them to a painful degree.

No sooner had Randidly used his Willpower to consciously relax an area and keep his powerful body from tearing itself to pieces than the electricity moved on, going to another part of his body. One second his tongue was trying to twist itself so forcefully that it would rip out its moorings in his mouth and the next the hidden muscles in the arch of his foot were squeezing themselves into oblivion.

Randidly growled. Goddamnit, in this case, my powerful body is more of an issue… this electricity can turn my own force against me…!

So Randidly began to engage in an extended war in his own body for dominion. At the same time, his Nether Core continued to slowly spin in his chest and produce extremely dense Nether. This Nether was taken by a small portion of Randidly’s attention and stored away in his Soulspace. Randidly Ghosthound was in no rush; he intended to stay down here for a few months and gather the tools he would need to empower himself.

“Do your worse,” Randidly said to the empty air. He tried to smile, but his face was cramping up too much to allow the expression.

Influence +11!

*****

Tatiana stood at the wide windows of the newly renovated Kharon Town Hall and looked out at the lively square below. Shiny stainless steel food carts sat atop intricate mechanical treads lined the edge of the space, forming a mechanic wall that sizzled and smelled of meat and tangy sauces. Brass automatons manned these popular stands, their blank faces carefully designed to appear human enough without looking too human.

The groups of civil servants and students of Kharon Academy who weren’t currently on campus didn’t truly mingle with each other but coexisted around the beautiful central fountain. The afternoon rush was definitely the busiest of the day when all unoccupied workers seemed to make a new excuse to come see the entirety automated square, driven either by a fanatical devotion to the steampunk mystique or because they felt great pride over the much-lauded clockwork of Kharon.

Tatiana tapped the window frame with her finger, wishing she had thought to keep the surrounding buildings lower; when the sun was directly overhead, the square was extremely hot, made even worse by the machines and friers that dominated the landscape. The stiff air was begging for a breeze.

Not that the students minded the circumstances; the heat just drove them to discard their shoes and socks and stick their feet directly into the fountain. Some waded deeper, romping joyously under the choreographed sprays of water that repeated themselves every thirty minutes. The civil servants were more reserved, but some of the younger ones moved the edge of the fountain and dipped their fingers in the water.

Tatiana glanced sideways at her secretary. “Make a note to call the Environmental Office and examine the feasibility of installing temperature controls in the square.”

The brass automaton nodded obediently, making several marks on the page in front of it.

Tatiana turned back to the window. She had a human secretary too, but since the day that the refineries of Kharon had figured out the method to tap into the System’s universal translation software, bypassing the need for complex Engravings to make the clockwork understand orders, basically everyone who could afford the raw materials had a personal brass automaton made.

This trend had continued to the point that Kharon was lousy with them: thousands hibernated in vast stacks in some of the internal warehouses of Kharon, their metal edges glittering in the darkness. When confirmation had come that the Calamity would indeed still be happening and was only eight months away, Tatiana had given the order to keep Kharon had been operating at full capacity arming its clockwork legion.

Even if the only role they eventually served was in protecting and evacuating civilians, Tatiana firmly believed it would be worth it.

Once more, Tatiana’s gaze drifted down to the square. The area was thronged with people now, but in a few hours that gushing wave of humanity would slow to a trickle and then completely vanish. Before dinner, the entire square would be converted, the clockwork attendants and the tank-like food stands rolling toward the hatch that would open in the ground, where they would rest and recharge by connecting to the vast furnace of Kharon’s engine until the morning.

At night, this place would be transformed into a swanky salsa club and tapas bar. Small, secured floated platforms with tables of varying sizes would drift around the courtyard while a live band played on a hidden stage that would be revealed when the fountain dried. Tatiana smiled wryly. It was exactly the sort of place to which she or one of her girls would have accompanied politicians before everything changed… and now she owned it.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

After saying a small prayer for her previous self, Tatiana looked up, beyond the encircling buildings and toward the sky. There, hundreds of streamlined and Engraved flying motorbikes whizzed through the air, following the direction of the moss spirits. And beyond the constantly shifting flow of thoroughfares in the sky were almost a score of floating islands, trailing after Kharon like a comfortable entourage of civilization.

Five years after Randidly had ascended to the Nexus, about as much of Kharon’s area drifted through the sky as walked on the Ghosthound’s original metal legs. As some of the specialized industries had moved off of the original Wandering City and onto a drifting island of their own, there was a higher and higher demand for reliable and convenient transportation between the various sectors. Which in turn led to increasingly complex vehicles being engraved with the floating runes and a strong reliance on the moss spirits as the unconscious nervous system of the whole operation.

Now those brilliant emerald bits of energy rushed forward in grand waves, paving transient highways of light in the sky that opened a path to the whooping, roaring flood of youths blazing through the sky on their hoverbikes. More modest and bulbous constructions designed for families or transportation followed after, not seeking that spike of adrenaline with the collective consciousness of the moss spirits abruptly guided their path through the sky downward at a sharp angle. They followed the bending of the ribbonous road at a much more controlled pace.

The final result was a series of metal wagon trains weaving across and around each other through the sky, riding carpets of emerald light.

There was a knock at the door. “Madam Mayor, Councilman Whittacker is here to see you.”

“Take him to the library,” Tatiana said distantly to the aide. “I’ll be over shortly.”

Then Tatiana reached up and pulled the window shut, instantly silencing the ambient laughter from the square below. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift down into her own Soulspace. Several Skills called out to her, but she ignored them all, heading deeper and deeper into her own person until she arrived at the vibrant pyre that formed the center of her being.

Standing before that Skill, Tatiana drank deeply of the spirit that Randidly Ghosthound had cultivated for Kharon. Resolve gradually formed in her chest. But along with that resolve came a surprising realization, one that brought her such joy she laughed aloud, immediately pulling her back to the physical realm.

Shaking her head slightly at this Councilman’s foolishness, Tatiana walked out of her office and down toward the library.

If the first few years adventuring and growing with Randidly Ghosthound on the then-unnamed Expira were all about adapting and reinventing yourself, then the past four years were about establishing the same old influential institutions under the guise of continued reinvention. Corporations were established, forming extremely tight bonds with certain Orders. The governments of the Zones treated each other amicably on the surface, while each dispatching teams into the unexplored borderlands to locate valuable resources. It was a cold war of Skills and Levels, with just as much mounting tension as a prelude to a nuclear winter.

Councilman Whittacker, a gruff and muscular man with greying hair stuffed into an expensive three-piece suit, had steadily become the agent of such an age within Kharon. Tatiana didn’t truly even need to spy on him to find out; the man was extremely forthright about his ties to corporate interests.

The man rose from the overstuffed chair as soon as she entered, beaming at her. “Madam Mayor, thank you for agreeing to postpone our meeting. How have you been?”

Tatiana smiled slightly and waved her hand. “No need for the pleasantries Thomas. Let’s get down to business. You know why I wanted to meet: more money needs to be poured into Guardian Visas Program if we want Kharon to continue growing. At the rate attendance at Kharon Academy is rising, we will soon have to start turning away the parents of our students. Now that the Zones and Orders are establishing their own institutions of learning, its important that we avoid hamstringing ourselves.

“The best students are coming because we have the best teachers, but also because we don’t have anything like the Citizenship process of the Zones.” Tatiana said. “We are sucking all of the undiscovered talents out of the Zones by giving these kids the chance to help their parents by coming here. I want that to continue.”

“You know my stance, Tatiana,” The Councilman shook his head sorrowfully. “I’d like to help, but the rules governing Kharon’s Council are very clear: we’ve already chosen a long term project to invest in and a short term one to overhaul. My hands are tied.”

“The law reads that the Council must undertake one overhaul. It does not say only one,” Tatiana said as she eased herself into a chair opposite the Councilman. She wondered idly how long he would play at the dance of semantics before showing his hand.

Thomas Whittaker reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Such a thing… is difficult. It’s never been done in the past. I feel uncomfortable being the first Chairperson to expand the power of the Council like this. Perhaps… your office can…?”

“We both know you’d use any attempt by me to address the issue against me,” Tatiana responded patiently. “Kharon Academy is technically categorized as an ‘industry’ and therefore its programs are beyond my power. And as Chairperson of the Council, you are the only one who can introduce new projects after the initial voting period has passed. A month and a half from now, the term will have been going on for three weeks; we will lose some students that I think could benefit greatly from learning here. So please, think of the families of these children we accept into the Academy and help me. Or if you insist on being a piece of shit, think of the money we make from them.”

The Councilman wrinkled his nose like he was smelling something unpleasant. “Your tongue is still as… off-putting as ever, Tatiana. And I wish you wouldn’t always assume others share your black and white perspective on complex legal issues. Not everyone believes we should so easily accept foreign groups into Kharon just because of a clever child.”

Tatiana did her best impression of a dead fish as she waited for the follow up that she knew was coming. She wondered if her eyes looked like they were bulging.

On cue, the Councilman paused, as though something had just occurred to him. “But you know… perhaps we can help each other out. I am willing to suggest this problem to the Council… but you must help me with something. I have always found it… counter-intuitive that Randidly Ghosthound places such emphasis on freedom… and yet as far as I can tell, no limits have been placed on Kharon’s mayoral term. And I suspect the long years of leading this city have left you with… little time to consider more womanly pursuits, Tatiana. Truly a tragedy, considering your beauty. If the law can be changed-”

“Let me ask you a question, Thomas,” Tatiana interrupted him rather than allowing him to strengthen his argument that he should have his throat slit and dumped behind a pile of hibernating brass automatons. “Why did you have to postpone our meeting from yesterday morning to today?”

“Huh…? Heh, fishing for gossip, Tatiana?” The Councilman wrinkled his nose again. “I assure you, my character is unimpeachable. Nothing untoward-”

“Humor me,” Tatiana said bluntly. “Why did you have to postpone?”

For the first time during their meeting, the Councilman seemed genuinely bewildered. He was the perfect politician, but he lived in a small world. Unexpected occurrences easily revealed how pretty and staged the platitudes he repeated about corporate virtue were. “Ahem. Well, if you must know, like many others in various capacities… the descent of the Eidolon Crucible left me feeling slightly under the weather.”

Tatiana smiled sweetly. “In total, 18% of Kharon’s population reported noticeable side effects from the encounter with the Ghosthound’s image. 3% experienced severe mental fatigue. Curiously, not a single student of Kharon Academy reported any problems. Some even felt invigorated by the experience. Did you ever stop to wonder why some people suffered and others did not?”

Something glittered in the Councilman’s eyes. “Are… are you suggesting… that you can control and target-”

“You are such a fool.” Tatiana sighed and stood. “But I think we are done here. News arrived today that makes me believe that cooperation between us will not be necessary. I will not be offering you political favors for doing your fucking job, Thomas. And I would recommend you spend some time considering how well you are truly serving the spirit of this city… because as long as I remain, I will not allow the small-minded in this place to use the letter of the law to butcher its noble spirit.”

And with that, Tatiana walked out of the library.