Three men are sitting in a small, but elaborate room. The 5m walls are adorned with overlapping, solid silver plates or scales. The center table, where our three men of interest are sitting, is solid gold, but the style is simple utilitarian. Each leg is square cut, with no tapers or filigree. The top is round with a simple straight cut edge. Where each of the legs connect to the top is a a thick golden loop. The size of each loop is enough to pass one’s arm through up to the elbow. The chairs are each solid gold, as well. The style more of an open stool, than a backed chair. The style also mimics the table, without the loops. The bottom of each chair leg is covered with some sort of animal hide. The hide cups the leg, the top of the cup cutting back into the leg 10cm up from the floor. The hide disappears seamlessly into solid gold leg.

The floor is solid silver, like the walls. Unlike the walls, the floor is a pattern of 100cm squares, evenly cut across room. Where the wall meets the floor, the scales melt into the floor, leaving no seem or gaps. The ceiling is an inversion of the floor. If the world were to invert, and you could stand on the ceiling, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between standing on the floor and standing on the ceiling, except the position of the table.

The room is lighted with a single crystal sitting in the center of the table. The crystal is contained within a tear drop shaped lamp, with a small hoop on top for carrying.

In one of the corners of the room is a thin outline of what could be called a door. Only the thinest gap can be seen in the outline. The surface of the “door” is identical to the rest of the room.

If we, the silent observer, could view the essence in the room, we would also note the lack of any ambient essence. This is not a normal condition. Every space is this plane contains some form of essence. This room is special.

The three men vary from rich imbued cloaks, to tattered linen. The one of the riches demeanor sits between the other two. He or she does not seem to be the person running the meeting. The one on his left, tattered cloak and unwashed hands seems to be driving the conversation.

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“Have we found our lord’s tap? The tattered “person’s” voice had a mechanical quality to it. It wasn’t his/her voice, more like a piano mimic’ing someone’s voice.

“We have the region…and, I have been sending out parties to explore the region. It would work well for me, but there are too many minor puppets around to stir anything up yet. I am a year or two away from consolidating the territory. At that point, I can do more.” The deep timber of the richest man resonates with the solidity of the room.

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“And you? Or are you still half a plane away?” The focus of the tattered being turns to the person in black.

“Yes, we are still too far away. We are also a year or more away.” This individual’s voice is closer to metal nails on slate.

“Umm. We will wait then.” With the finality of the statement, all three individuals get up and push out of the corner of the room.

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“Your Majesty, we have visitors from the last expedition wishing to report. Would you like to meet them in your office or elsewhere?”

A stringy man, of indeterminate age, enters the King’s rear office.

“No, have Reginald consolidate the report. I am exhausted right now, and will retire. With that statement, the King pushed himself up and walked over to a bookcase. Reaching up and pulling on the bottom of one of the shelves, a deep clunk echos through the room. Pulling the bookcase open and King moved through the tunnel behind, closing the bookcase behind him.

The stringy man waited till the bookcase latched shut again, and then open the main door to the office, and walked out.

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In a small bar, a plane away, a tiny woman throws some gold on the table and gets up and moves out of the bar.

“Hey, I told you before, you don’t need to pay.” The waitress begins to follow the tiny woman out of the bar.

“Honey, consider it a tip.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes, probably for several years. Here, take this, I won’t need it.” The tiny woman hands over a small bag.

“Mom, what is going on?”

“I made a bargain, and now I have to pay it back. If it goes well, I will be back.”

“Goes well, Mom what is going on…we can help, I have some friends..” The waitress’s voice begins to crack with the pain of emotions.

“No Honey. This is my burden. I will be back, don’t worry.” With a quick hug, the tiny woman takes a step and disappears.

“Dammit Mom.” Twisting her hands together, the waitress turns and re-enters the bar.

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In a small cave, an old man opens his eyes, purple in color, and gets up. Moving to the mouth of the cave, the man begins to hum.

With each step, the walls of the cave begin to flow a purple essence onto the floor of the cave.

By the time he reaches the mouth of the cave, the purple essence behind him begins to flood out of the mouth and down into the isolated valley.

“It won’t be enough. The kid is already more powerful than what we can handle. We will need him cooperate.” The whisper is old and broken…and painful.

“The gods played with my life to get me to this point, but didn’t give me the power to complete the job. I either need to look for help, or abandon this work of my life.” The man looks down into the valley. The churning of purple essence can be seen from side to side, 700m deep, like a deep lake of essence…trapped within some isolated mountain range.

“It won’t be enough. It won’t be enough.” With the last statement, the old man turns around begins to walk back into the cave.