AbyssalRoadTrip
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Abyssal Road Trip - 522 - Letting go
🕑 Added 2025-06-06 01:00:04 +0000 UTCAmdirlain’s PoV - Vehtë
Phoenix’s Trail sped her across successive longitudes at a pace that saw the sun shift in the sky, taking her from early evening to early afternoon in a few seconds.
As she approached the northern shore of the Great Lakes, she paid more attention to the network of roads crisscrossing the countryside ahead of her. The late summer season saw them awash with trade caravans. While some seemed set for long trips bringing supplies in bulk to the major cities, others had goods more suitable for the local villages. A predatory menace beneath the lakes’ waters briefly drew her attention. Still, she left the Dragon Turtle scheming to expand his hoard alone and returned to gathering information for her own activities.
As she flew south west, Amdirlain memorised the melodies of the gear used by various senior Taurë rangers from the Adventurers’ Guild. She detected guild halls in every region, including a few isolated ones in the border towns of the three elven kingdoms.
She focused on Eyrarháls’s surroundings when she turned south towards the city that had grown around the old town. The old temple square was still there though, of the ten temples that had been there previously, only Týr’s and Loki’s temples still stood. They’d taken down the other eight temples and raised new ones to different gods. Mars’s, Anna Perenna’s, and Liranë’s temples were among them, but Amdirlain didn’t know the five other gods worshipped in the square. Lerina’s temple was still in the extension of the old wall that reached southwards.
The outer walls loomed nearly thirty metres tall, running for kilometres with only outer farms unshielded. Still, many of those were in range of the weapons mounted on towers along the wall. The weathering of the sturdy stone construction showed the different periods of expansion and told the story of multiple communities merging instead of Eyrarháls undergoing a continual expansion.
On the lake’s east shore, the Wizard college’s central tower showed where it had started. From the foundation’s age, they’d slowly accumulated additional buildings for teaching, crafting, and supporting the community. Where once Yngvarr's house had been the central point of the wards, now the Wizard’s college anchored the expanded web, which thinned as they extended southward. Its growth had eventually linked up with farming villages and the expansion of Eyrarháls along the south shore.
The town’s interior had changed from the Norse traditions; the steep roofs, lofty attics, and many of the decorative knots on the stonework were gone. Instead, the roofs were consistent ceramic tiles, with roofs that tended towards a thirty-degree angle, while the buildings were more consistently stone or brick instead of wood.
South of Eyrarháls, what had once been an extensive woodland was now land stripped of topsoil, covered in scarred rock and shattered trees, standing amid salt-soured ground. The grassy knoll where Amdirlain had sheltered to heal Livia’s Soul was a stub of wind-scrubbed rock. Throughout the damaged landscape, lingering energies showed where priests and druids worked to clean the land of brine-laden corruption. The energies they fought were familiar from the Sahuagin horde Klipyl had shattered in the South Wind’s lands.
As she changed her filtering to take in more details about the city and its surroundings, she found that travellers’ identification was being checked at every outer gatehouse. The Artificer devices linked the chits for their stay directly to their names, not just a numbered token.
Her attention briefly caught on scores of gnomes communing with the planet deep underground, and they reacted to her presence with curiosity. As her attention brushed the landscape, one broke off and swam towards the surface. Its Primordial essence thrummed to the same beat as the Material Plane. Amdirlain drew her attention away, broadcasting a genuine apology, and the ascending Gnome held a position just short of breaching the bedrock.
That was rude of me. Let's not bother them. How do I enter the city? I don’t think I’ll bother with the front gate. Cross the wards at the southwest docks in an assumed bird form. However, there are components of the wards around the old Temple Square focused on shapeshifters, which could be problematic.
At the lake’s midpoint, she switched from rushing energy to the form of a small, brightly coloured songbird and continued her flight south at an ordinary pace.
Before she reached the docks, she landed atop a boat’s mast, content to ride the last three hundred metres to shore. Below her, the crew worked in unison to bring the vessel into the dock. Their cargo of goods from upstream caused the boat to sit low in the water, and it didn’t move fast.
Amdirlain took to the air on feathered wings alone as the dock hands drew the boat’s lines tight and slipped through the first wards; those would have detected hostility and various monstrous races that she sensed in the surroundings. Her path took her over the old stone long hall that had once been the Companions’ Hall. Its front now showed the Adventurers’ Guild signage, and it was noted as an annex of Southgate’s main guild hall.
The inner wards can’t stop my shapeshifting, but they might detect it if I change from my True Form. What’s a minimalistic way to handle this? It recognises someone carrying a chit or an Adventurer’s Guild token. They issue chits at the exit of the docks or check for tokens, but don’t ask for chits at the guild.
She detoured west above buildings filled with cheap housing units for labourer families. Perched below the roof's ridgeline to prevent a tower guard from spotting her, Amdirlain resumed her Elven form. Rather than using shapeshifting to disguise herself, Amdirlain applied a dark red dye, which carried a lingering woodland scent to her azure locks. Next, she created opaque contacts to create a false facade of normal eyes; their false irises showed a bright emerald hue. Dressed in cloth pants, a shirt fashioned from a green-blue elven weave, and knee-high boots, she dropped soundlessly into an empty laneway and slipped between crates. As she reached the end, the long stave of an unstrung bow appeared in her hands to match the long shafted arrows in the quiver across her back.
Amdirlain exited the laneway and joined the other pedestrians. She considered the variety of magical items she saw in use as she walked along. Their crafting ranged from runes etched into the material, as she’d seen last time in Eyrarháls, to heavy enchantment infused inside mithril or adamantine. Though the evolved Power was something only the dwarves had access to when she’d last been to Vehtë, the artifices’ energies spoke of Human creators.
The surrounding people were a blend of nationalities and partial bloodlines; she had yet to spot any Human with a heritage that traced back to a singular cultural group from within the original ten kingdoms.
As she moved among the people on the street, she matched their pace and only received guarded yet curious looks. Their thoughts lingered on her expensive clothing, and they guessed why she’d visited the labourers’ district. Those pedestrians closest to her kept their hands well clear, gazes jerked away from her belt pouches, bow, and daggers. They wore cotton clothing with a tight regular weave, different to the rough mixed weave she’d seen last time. There was also a shift in the styling, with the open neck tunics having shorter Roman sleeves and the removal of the usual laces on the shirt fronts.
When she hit the main street, she joined the flow of vehicles heading away from the docks, each towed by constructs. The ‘beasts’ of burden ranged from bulky yet functional constructs with wide, splayed feet to artistic recreations of living animals, metal cables shifting and bulging in a mimicry of life. Though both types could tow a wagon that would have needed a dozen draft horses, the fancier ones showed less strain and moved with a stately grace. No one around her paid the many constructs attention. All the metals involved in the manufacturing had melodies that matched her trials. Among the many wagons transporting goods were vehicles that resembled old horse-drawn trams, also drawn by constructs.
At the guild hall, she let herself in through the partly ajar double doors. Beyond the front quarter of the wide, long hall was a single open expanse. The foyer had a receptionist counter on the left and a delivery counter on the right where people were laying out materials for assessment. While there was a moderate evaluation queue, only a single young group was in line for the reception counter. A lean youngster eyed the job plaque he held and whispered to the others. Of the five youths, only one didn’t have an arcane-type Class.
They were being seen by a red-furred Catfolk when a tall man with a slightly scuffed mop of blond hair waved to her from the first section of the counter.
She stepped forward with a bright smile. “Good afternoon.”
Universal Communication had him hearing the Salviac dialect that he expected from a Wood Elf, and he opted to keep things running smoothly by sticking to the same language.
The receptionist smiled professionally, with a touch of Charisma that carried a reassuring calm. “I’m Pervusha. What can I help you with today?”
“Can you help me register as a guild member here?”
He nodded and drew a set of paperwork and a steel plate from under the counter. The Artificer runes infused into the steel were far more advanced than the Wizard runes of the first versions she’d tested with Yngvarr. “Your name?”
“Some people might stumble over my name. Can I use a short name?”
Pervusha frowned slightly. “Once you’ve registered, changing information is a lot of fuss. If you want to use a short name, ensure it’s one you’ll be comfortable using for years. Others have regretted nicknames in the past.”
“My family call me J. Is that enough?”
“Jay? Like the bird?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
He carefully printed the name in Roman lettering. Amdirlain mentally checked and found that all the documents in the place were in the same language.
“It sounds like a very youthful name. I believe the elven custom is to take something more formal at adulthood. You didn’t register before leaving the kingdom?”
“I’ve been travelling more for curiosity and to meet with some old friends. Staying in towns is more expensive than I thought, so much so that I might need more coin.”
His shoulders tensed up slightly. “The sign-up fee is a small gold coin.”
Lack of inflation? Or have they just kept the price in reach of adolescents?
She created a coin in her palm and set it on the counter. “I’m aware.”
Pervusha motioned to the steel plate. “If you’d place your hand in the circle on the imprint plate.”
Amdirlain adjusted her profile to show levels around forty for four classes: Archer, Scout, Wizard, and Fighter, reducing her displayed stats to match. The last change was to reduce her affinities to only show the first tier plus Life. Pruning down her powers and skills, she hid most of her abilities and the evolutions before touching the plate.
The receptionist blinked at the information on the plate, right side up to him. “You’re a Grand Master in archery, but I’m unfamiliar with the names of some of your skills. You’ve a very focused skill set.”
“I do possess a particular set of skills,” Amdirlain said, straight-faced. “Enfolding Harmony is a mixed combat style with armed and unarmed elements.”
“I’m surprised you’ve not registered before. The guild handles organising a lot of activity for the Taurë monarchy.”
“A lot, but not all. So, do I start as a bronze rank?”
“I’m afraid the rules mean I can only register you as copper. Without a party, the most you’ll be able to take are gathering jobs.”
“I’ll speak with my friend at the temple of Týr and see what they suggest.”
“Ensure they advise us if you’re a party member before you depart on the task.” Pervusha offered another professional smile.
“Is there anything else I need to do?”
“I’ll just complete the paperwork.” His enchanted version of a pen danced across the paperwork, and he soon issued her a token. He pressed the memory crystal, and her rank, classes, and levels appeared on the card-sized plate.
After she’d secured it, Amdirlain waved cheerfully and headed on her way. As the road approached what used to be a grassed common area in the western district, she eyed the changed layout. The previously grassed area no longer served as a grazing place for horses and other livestock, but held a mix of community gardens and defined areas for children to play. Around its perimeter were a mix of temples and shrines to the surviving gods, most from Roman, Slavic, Nubian, and Persian cultures. There was a temple to Hestia on the left, and the lioness-headed Kushite, goddess of childbirth and fertility, on the right. Eir had a temple here, and further to the northeast, where there were temples to other Norse gods in Southgate.
Amdirlain strode through the gardens and got some waves from curious children who quickly returned to their games.
An Elf is a novelty, but not enough to risk approaching when games with friends are available. I’ve been avoiding asking after Eivor and Aggie.
The long main street leading towards what used to be the inner district still hosted an array of shops, seamstresses, tailors, woodworkers, cobblers, bakeries, and a fortified money changer. Except for the last, they had expansive windows that displayed changes in how they operated and the goods they provided. Eivor’s family bakery was unsurprisingly gone, though another a few spots down had metallic industrial ovens instead of the wood-fired stone dome ovens which Eivor’s family had used. Various workers in every store she passed fed trickles of Mana into devices that simplified their activities.
There are lots of people with non-combat classes that now include Mana handling. Jal’krin had his Arcane Composer and Sharpshooter classes, which involved Mana handling. What comes first?
“The number of artificers grew to support the local Wizard College, and they needed a market to sell their goods beyond the wizards. Once someone uses magical tools daily, their receptiveness to the energies expands. I include the options in their Class visions if that occurs during their early adolescence. Otherwise, it depends on their mindset and current classes as they age. Lerina’s priests can help those who struggle to gain affinities. The expected donations range from coppers to several gold coins, depending on the desired tier.”
Keeping a mental ear on my thoughts?
“I’m keeping a mental ear on everything at once. However, I’m concerned about how you’ll react to the changes around Eyrarháls and Verdandi’s state. You are still in a fragile, quilted state, as you put it.”
Thanks for the concern. What happened to the woodlands?
“The local wizards drove back the Sahuagin with massive casualties, so the Sahuagin cursed the land in retaliation. The gnomes promptly pulverised them. Driving a region into a dormant state like the red dragons do is one thing. The Sahuagin cursed the land so it can never support life. A Gnome’s nature usually focuses on preserving a planet’s ability to support life.”
Okay, got it, their leaders played fuck around and find out. Do I want to know why the locals are using metals from my trials?
“You could have stuck around for Sarah’s debrief of world events. The dwarves are far faster miners than any other race, and they were here long before the Anar and Lómë arrived. The problem the courts told you about with metals has reached the point that there are few untapped veins within Human or Orc mining capability anywhere on this planet. Most of the output has gone to planar strongholds controlled by the dwarven species.”
Thanks, Gideon. I’ll stay out of the local conflicts. Is it more efficient to replenish the minerals and metals or just provide the humans and orcs with worlds of their own so they can develop?
“I just know things. Decisions are above my pay grade, boss. You’ve moved entire hives. What’s to stop you moving a civilisation, except upsetting their deities?”
You’re still looking to get me going. I didn’t say I’d do it without talking to the concerned parties. Wait, the dwarves killed the Orc deities.
“Aside from the group still following Lerina, they worship various demon lords. The Human presence takes assorted monstrous pressure off the elves and dwarves. Whichever way you want to approach it, the problem is a balancing act. My welcome back wasn’t a promise of a lack of headaches. The easiest approach is to make stuff, keep your nose to yourself, and only provide tools so they have choices.”
Nicholaus saw the benefits in getting sealed inside the spire, didn’t he?
Laughter echoed in her thoughts, and Amdirlain restrained a sigh before examining the approaching tunnel between districts. It was still a fortified passage and had gained extra protections over the centuries, besides the wards. The guards at the gate tunnel ranged in build and ethnicity. When Amdirlain reached the front of the queue, the closest nodded perfunctorily as she displayed the guild token and waved her to follow a self-propelled open wagon. Those extra wards within the tunnel prickled lightly across her skin, and while they struggled to gain a foothold against her magic, they almost triggered an alarm. The guild token tied to her tipped things in her favour, but it still alerted the guards silently.
I needed something for the wards to read; a lack of information nearly activated the secondary trigger.
A lean, dark-haired guard in leathers with enchanted bracers at the tunnel’s far end eyed her curiously. “Where are you heading today, adventurer? If you’ve a location specific in mind, I can give you directions.”
Amdirlain smiled and let a thread of Charisma creep out. “That’s kind, but I know my way. I’m just venturing to the Temple of Týr. I heard that High Justice Verdandi is faring poorly, and I’m here to pass along my family’s regards.”
She palmed her guild card and pressed the crystal.
His eyes locked on the Class levels before he blinked, stammered at her glowing smile, and waved her through. “Thanks for coming.”
That was last night.
The stray thought had her hiding a blush beneath her polite smile.
“Have a good day.” She slipped on before the guard could reply.
The exit from the tunnel curved sharply around a curtain wall, putting her on a street of shops that had changed from her last visit. Instead of stores containing various goods, a row of Artificer establishments sat between the Gate and the Temple square. Their windows contained clockwork messenger birds, cooling fans, and decorative clocks keeping perfect time. She moved along and slipped between the traffic that had passed through the gate ahead of her. Only slowing when she passed Liranë’s temple at the entrance to the square and noted the mosaics that depicted her more like an Andúnë than anything else.
I wonder if her followers here have changed her appearance, or if those in Limbo are enough of an offset.
The fruit trees that had once buckled the flagstones in the Temple Square were long gone. A curving wall had taken their place, listing tens of thousands of names. The thoughts of those nearby confirmed that it was a memorial wall honouring the dead during a fifty-year conflict with the goblins and hobgoblins on the western marchlands. She walked along it, respectfully noting the sections broken up by the year. At the far end of the square, a stone wall with a colourful inlaid mosaic had replaced the wrought-iron fence outside the temple of Týr. A pair of guards stationed at its gates wore the equivalent of medieval plate armour with a dark blue tabard with Týr’s symbol over the top. Despite the summer day’s warmth, the weight and heat didn’t bother the guards.
With enough physical attributes, you can do inhumanly stupid stuff for a long time.
As she approached, the attention of the guards fixed on her, and Amdirlain’s gaze flickered over the guards and the open gate between them. “I’m here to see High Justice Verdandi.”
“She’s not just available to the public. You’re welcome to use the Temple to pray, but to see the High Justice, we’ll need to see some credentials or a letter of introduction.”
“We’re old friends. Can you let her know J is here?”
“Jay?”
“She’ll recognise it.” Amdirlain waited while the guard ordered an acolyte within the temple’s yard to take word to the High Justice’s chamber. With that, Amdirlain retreated to the closest point of the memorial wall.
“You’re welcome to wait within,” the second guard offered, motioning to seats within the walls.
“Thanks, I’m fine standing here.”
Half an hour later, a priestess in dark blue robes approached the guards, her round face set in a worried expression. When the first guard pointed to Amdirlain, the priestess rushed over. “Jay?”
People keep elongating the pronunciation that way.
Amdirlain nodded. “Is High Justice Verdandi well enough to see me today?”
“Yes, my apologies for keeping you waiting. I didn’t get your message immediately. Please follow me. Keep any topics light, but don’t provoke laughter as her lungs are fragile. She’s been tiring more quickly this last season.”
Amdirlain stepped across the threshold without hesitation—the sanctity of the grounds wrapped around her like a welcoming blanket.
As they walked, the list of dos and don’ts continued. They passed the main entranceway to the Temple and went to a semi-detached structure on its side. Though the building resembled a square watchtower, inside were living quarters, not a defensive garrison. A wide spiral staircase inside the door took them to the second floor, where the priestess tapped on a solid white oak door. A well-muscled female acolyte in dark blue cotton pants and shirt opened the door. She started to object to Amdirlain’s presence only to spot the priestess and step aside for them to enter, fidgeting with auburn locks as she looked between them.
Bookcases filled with leather-bound books lined the walls in the receiving room. Among them, Amdirlain picked out the journal containing the bound testimony from her own hearing.
Once the outer door was closed, the acolyte carefully opened the inner door and peeked inside. “I’ve not fallen asleep. Please send J in, alone, Aslaug.”
Though Verdandi’s words barely carried into the receiving room, Amdirlain slipped past the acolyte, not waiting for her to repeat them.
The inner room had a simple bed before a wide window that allowed the afternoon sun to illuminate it. Though spacious, the furnishings were minimal, with a few guest chairs around a low round table and an uncluttered writing desk.
The sunlight streamed through the wide windows, making Verdandi’s age-thinned skin and wispy white hair translucent. Amdirlain could see all the blood vessels beneath her skin, her heart struggling to complete each beat.
Fatigue weighed down Verdandi’s once vibrant, dark green gaze. “Are you going to stand there all day gawking?”
“Grandmother, you don’t look even a single day over a hundred thousand.”
“You’ll spread false rumours with me on my deathbed?” Verdandi snorted, and the outburst set her coughing; a wet, rasping cough shuddered through her fragile frame. Amdirlain drew the door softly closed.
A touch of Primordial Will stilled the spasming in her airways, and Verdandi drew a deep breath. “Really?”
Amdirlain sat on the stool beside the simple bed. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“You took a while to come back to us.”
“Sorry, I kept you waiting.” Amdirlain covered Verdandi’s hand with her own. “Why did you hold on for so long?”
“I just felt the need. I wanted to see you one last time, and I’d hoped to meet Torm again to make his new life easier.”
Could you provide me with any information to comfort her, Gideon? She helped me when the rules stopped you.
“She hasn’t met him, but he’s doing fine with friends and family.”
Amdirlain repeated the information, and both had tears glistening in their eyes.
“No regrets, Amdirlain. Thank you.” With a slow, soft exhalation that released all the tension from her failing body, Verdandi breathed her last.
Comments
Gopard
Thanks for the chapter! Damn... Even such peaceful "positive deaths" Can hit so hard when written so well...
Plateworm
Tftc Can’t wait to see am getting blamed for Verdandis death xD
