AbyssalRoadTrip
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🕑 Added 2023-04-04 01:45:04 +0000 UTCUpon the heels of the scrying’s termination comes a rapid exchange of messages between Calaer and the Royal Secretary. Calaer keeps a bland expression even while his amusement grows, but he sputters when I create two amber tokens marked with their majesties’ crests. Tapping the table beside them, I show two fingers and store them with a wink. The next exchange he has includes a discussion of my seeing their majesties without an escort.
Elleth backs me up by giving him a firm nod and shifting along a spot to leave two chairs open between Calaer and herself—of course, neither of us invited them. Now they can sit between Calaer and myself or Calaer and Elleth. The kitchen setting, with its oil-polished surfaces, brings out the sheen of the redwood and through the windows comes a touch of the early morning light that’s made it through the canopy. It seems a far nicer meeting place to me than any fancy reception hall.
While the messages continue, I sip the lavender tea and savour its warmth. My cup is getting low when six songs manifest outside the same door Calaer used. At the same time, more join the sentries among the trees, their attention focused outward, before a tap on the door.
There is a momentary pause before Elleth realises since it’s her temple, it’s her door to answer with their majesties standing outside.
“Good morning, your majesties; it’s so nice of you to stop by Lerina’s Temple. Are you enjoying a morning walk?” asks Elleth innocently before she steps aside and allows the couple to enter. After dealing with my parents and their visitors, this likely seems mild.
“Someone pointed out we hadn’t visited since the temple’s opening. We hope we’ve not picked an inopportune time,” the King replies.
Elleth twitches with the barely restrained mirth that fills her voice, but she keeps her face composed. “I’ve some other guests presently. Would you care to join us for some tea? It’s nothing fancy, just a lavender blend, but I could make something else.”
The Queen answers for them both as she follows him inside. “Lavender is fine with me,”
As they enter, I take in the practical garments they’ve arrived in, clothing far different from the fancy jewelled silks of the Andúnë factions. A mix of greens and earthen tones without a metallic thread or gem in sight, they look ready to go hunting or join a scouting party. The only thing lacking is weapons, though I can hear their storage and protection devices.
With winter and summer celestials in their respective bloodlines, they have polar opposite heritages. They both stand around one ninety centimetres in height, with dusky skin tinged with amber hints instead of the more regular mint hues. A similarity that has me wondering if their families have intermarried until I catch the completely different Celestial energies of their bloodlines.
The Queen’s angular features host a calculating onyx gaze that weighs me up as if assessing the danger I pose to her husband. When she goes to step between us, his hand brushes her forearm reassuringly, a motion too precise to be an accident. His eyes are a tri-colour starburst too brilliant to categorise as hazel, a hint of the Summer Court Ljósálfar that lies somewhere in his ancestry.
The songs of their Prestige classes range in strength between tier three and five, a mix of martial and magical, though both possess one with a Priest undertone. Its vibrant life energy makes it clear they both serve the Lady of the Forest.
Their insistence on constantly referring to her that way is another custom whose origins I don’t know. Verenestra possesses a few names, but the local elves won’t use her elven name except in her holy groves. The situation is especially odd given that her Human and half-Elf followers can openly refer to her as Mielikki, a name also used on other worlds.
The Queen’s sharp focus brings my thoughts in line as Elleth continues. “You already know Calaer, but let me try to introduce my other guest. Your majesties, this is Gailneth. Gailneth, this is Rhangyl and Verciel.”
“I’m pleased to meet you both,” I offer, and start silently forming a pair of mithril cups upon the table with an oak tree motif encircling them. “Hopefully, our fortuitous meeting today plants a seed of future friendship.”
“It seems the tales of your species’ demise were incorrect,” says Verciel, her gaze flicking between the golden glow of creation and me.
“No, I’m presently the only living Anar. A unique alignment of events allowed me to be reborn, but I’ve only recently arrived on Vehtë,” I explain. I add an enchantment as the glow fades, ensuring the contents can’t contain poison nor its temperature transfer through the metal. “Please accept these as a token of friendship.”
They sit down across from me, and Verciel runs a Detection Spell across the cups. Before Elleth can fill hers, Verciel lifts it from the table to examine it. “Beautiful, and you even included the Lady’s sigil, as it’s presented in the groves. Are you a follower of the Lady?”
“I like your Lady, and while I don’t follow her ways, I’ve some friends who do,” I reply.
“Hopefully, you won’t take it amiss if we inform the other elves of your existence,” Rhangyl states and slides his cup closer to let Elleth fill it.
“The Andúnë Royal Court already knows of my presence,” I state, and Verciel’s gaze fractionally narrows. “I was quite surprised when they showed up at my home with only their own court’s factions represented.”
“When did they come to visit you?”
“Two days ago, although they initially believed I was a Taurë maiden who’d somehow gained access to True Song,” I admit lightly before allowing Elleth to refill my cup.
Verciel lips tighten, and she sets the cup on the table within Elleth’s reach. “Possessing that belief simply means we should have been contacted as a priority. I hope they weren’t their usual annoying selves.”
“Annoying? Believing I was alone in a small village and descending with a hundred of the Royal Guard and even more silk-clad nobles. Does that count as annoying?”
Lifting his cup to sip, Rhangyl gently blows across the steaming tea. “What do you count as small?”
“The populace there is around eight hundred locals and adventurers combined,” I clarify.
Verciel snorts in disgust. “Typical Andúnë games.”
“Would you object to us inviting others to share some tea this morning, Elleth?” asks Rhangyl.
Elleth runs a finger around the rim of her cup, a nervous gesture I’ve seen many times. “Who did you have in mind?”
“Someone from the Isil Court. I’d also like to contact the Oron, but the northern communities have no central authority,” clarifies Rhangyl. “Their history says they were here before our arrival, so they’d likely have less interest in Gailneth’s presence.”
Their offer to involve others and mention of the Oron history has me torn; it’s certainly more than the Andúnë offered. “While I’d appreciate an introduction to them later, I’d prefer to keep our conversation focused on the Taurë perspective.”
“What did you wish to speak about?” Verciel asks in a noncommittal counter.
“There is so much I’m interested in learning. For example, while I’m familiar with Taurë customs and etiquette, I’m ignorant of the history of the elven peoples after your arrival on this continent.”
“I don’t claim to be knowledgeable in all the elven histories, but there are a few sages in Malicondëa and other cities who can provide a thorough account,” offers Rhangyl. “Would you prefer us to introduce you personally or provide directions?”
Verciel turns towards him slightly at his offer, but I can sense only the slightest effort at restraint.
“Directions are fine. I’ll likely make a nuisance of myself with all the questions I tend to ask. Given all the turmoil of recent decades, how are things within your realm? I’ve heard things on the borders with the Human kingdoms have been tense.”
“The barrier contained the Gods’ War conflict, but many communities along the forest borders changed after peace was restored. Trade that used to go through them is practically non-existent, and I’m told we’ve had to re-establish relationships almost from scratch.”
“Is it because too many people died?”
Rhangyl flicks a partial agreement hand sign before he starts to explain. “From what I’ve been told, that is an issue in many places but not always the main one. Despite knowing why we couldn’t help, they seem to hold a grudge for the lack of aid provided during the war.”
“We don’t need their trade; it’s only undertaken to provide a bond between our kingdoms,” notes Verciel, and her jaw tightens again.
“Trading with the humans would help keep them strong, and they defend the eastern border from hobgoblins and manes,” Rhangyl sighs. “Overall, their presence is a benefit though some in our court pester us to sanction them for hunting or logging within our borders.”
Verciel snorts. “The treants inform the patrols before they can fell more than a few trees, but it’s a continual exercise. Words are exchanged, a few dozen seasons pass, and they are back again—it tries the patience of those who tend the eastern groves. Annoying though they can be, the greatest troubles come from the Orc and Hobgoblin tribes that dwell in the western mountains.”
By the time the conversation wraps up, I’ve the details of sages to speak to and an overall picture of the state of their borders and their slow northward expansion. With only a few questions from me, they go over the details of forward outposts growing into villages over the centuries. It’s quite the contrast to the Andúnë tales of contracting borders.
“Thank you all for the lovely talk,” I say as I finally rise, aware that with the time difference, lunchtime is fast approaching for my guests.
“I hope you can visit again,” replies Verciel. “At the central grove, we don’t hold the fancy dinners or events that the Andúnë court prefers, but there is always a place for guests at meals.”
“I thank you for your welcome; hopefully, we’ll see each other again very soon,” I reply and exchange farewells before teleporting.
My arrival point on the tower’s upper platform gives me a gorgeous view of the open sea. In the clear afternoon sunlight, the deep water off the coast is a rich blue, and a steady breeze adds a light froth of waves approaching the coast.
Lunchtime is relaxed, and I keep the conversation moving to collect snippets of information I want to double-check. Their kingdom’s shifting borders aren’t just a retreat from the north but the Isil taking over locations in the south.
“The Sahuagin have caused problems all along the gulf’s coastline at various times. Do they give your coastal cities trouble?”
“Infrequently. Our coastal wards allow us to inflict significant losses that normally drive them off. The lightness of the raids they conduct seem to be driven towards testing our defences,” replies Litthor.
“There are years where they’ll put in a stronger effort to breach the wards. The School of the Arcane is in charge of their maintenance, and our masters are alerted when the wards detect them. Whoever is on duty helps discourage their attempted raid,” added Maition. “Once their surge is blunted, the singers have enough time to strengthen the wards at their leisure.”
“Do all wizards study at the School of the Arcane?”
“There are some wizards that follow an apprenticeship route, though many will undertake some education with us afterwards,” offers Maition. “Those seeking positions in noble houses must have the school’s credentials if they wish to be considered.”
“Does that apply to artificers and alchemists as well?”
Maition frowns in confusion. “Why would they come to the School of the Arcane? They have separate organisations.”
The conversation works its way through the other guilds; every single type of crafting I ask about has its own, even for different kinds of painters, landscape and portrait; it’s just weird. That they have a guild that only handles alchemical plant materials strikes me as bizarre. Their fascination with hierarchy and position seems to be a plague. By the time we’re done, my head is swimming, and I bid them good afternoon.
Teleport places me at Hestia’s Temple, and I spot Irenne tending to a herb garden near the refectory. Shocking, a priestess tending a garden and herb gathering, the Andúnë might faint. My huff of amusement attracts Irenne’s attention, and she sits back on her heels to wave.
“Priestess Irene, how are you this afternoon?”
“I’m well, Lady Gailneth, and yourself?”
“Please don’t bestow titles on me.”
My protest earns a snort from Irene. “You keep referring to me formally, Gail. How are your remaining guests?”
Laughing, I spread my arms in surrender. “Formally using a title you’ve earned, I’ve not earned anything. My guests seem content to remain in Sanctuary’s tower. But setting that aside, Zosime seemed tense and said she’d been repeatedly questioned. How do the villagers feel now that my unwanted guests have departed?”
“I’d have to say many are also tense since the elves arrived and departed so quickly. It’s obvious there isn’t much keeping them away, other than you chastising them,” replied Irene. “Which has people asking me about you with such powerful nobles sent away and the forest within your tower.”
“That forest is my aunt’s creation, not mine; it’s way beyond what I can do,” I protest.
The curiosity in Irene’s gaze brightens, and she rises, brushing dirt from her knees. “Who are you then, with such powerful relatives?”
Drats!
“A youngster who grew up living in big shadows, just like anyone with accomplished relatives. I’m told that being compared to skilled parents or relatives is common among many species,” I say. “Now that I'm allowed to be out and about, I'm trying to stand on my own, but they still want to help. The good news is I’m happy to help others, even if my relatives want to add their aid, and I try not to make the same mistake twice.”
“Some are worried they won’t recognise their village once you are done helping,” comments Irene.
“Yeah, sorry, that was likely the moment saving Nikias’ life turned dramatic. After that, I figured I might as well provide them with nice things like the cove and temples.”
“And how do you see things going from here?”
“One of three ways: they can either guide how they want the change to occur, the guild will give orders, or people with money will move in and try to seize control,” I admit. “While I’ll be pushing back against that last possibility, it could still upset things.”
“We’re on the wolf’s back, we can either keep riding or be consumed,” Irene intones, and I can only shrug helplessly, unsure what she’s quoting.
“The village was drifting towards being overwhelmed or abandoned one day. How many children leave and never come back?”
“Too many, and those that come through don’t remain, having found their fortunes or death in the swamps,” admits Irene. “Once the guild built the additional fort near Falerii; the experienced adventurers shifted northwards. Being on the river lets them access deeper into the peninsula, and the larger attacks flow upriver along its course in any case.”
“Hasusar mentioned changes here could cause flow-on impacts,” I say. “Speaking of impacts, I’d like to make it easier for the children to get to Sanctuary for lessons, but I can see side effects from what I’d like to do.”
Irene invites me to the kitchen and led the way unhurriedly. “Come inside for a cool drink and tell me about your idea. Did you want me to talk to the council about it for you, or will you represent it yourself?”
“I’m happy to come along and discuss it next time they meet, but I wanted to talk about it first,” I say, and roll my shoulders while I hold off the urge to shift.
My unease gains a frown from Irene. “Is something wrong?”
“All the things I want to handle have me restless to fix things. How about we talk in the library while I expand your collection?”
Irene leads the way stopping off in the kitchen to collect a jug of watered wine she had cooling in a bucket and a pair of cups. “Are all the texts you plan to create written in the Celestial tongue?”
“Celestial or Elven are the two languages I’ve read the most books in,” I admit, sitting by a library window.
“You seem more than just restless. Is everything alright, Gail?”
Smiling at her, I wave towards Sanctuary. “Lots of things I hadn’t intended to become involved in taking up my attention. I feel sure I’m not the best person to sort out their problems.”
“Why is that?”
“Lack of experience. Since they’re asking me to help, I need to take the time to understand the issues better, not simply fulfil whatever request takes my fancy,” I explain. “But what they truthfully tell me isn’t all the facts I need to know, so I have to look for more information.”
Irene reaches out and gently pats my hand. “I’m happy to listen if you need to talk about things. You’re not taking on too much, are you?”
“I’m sure that’s part of the problem, and I appreciate your offer. Likely the main issue is I’m trying to balance my tendency to take action against my need to learn more before granting any request,” I explain with a sigh. “The representatives still here are from different factions, and they contradict each other in what their kingdom needs from me.”
“Yet you freely helped us,” notes Irene.
“Here, I’ve just tried to improve things that help the community; with them, it might increase tensions within their kingdom.”
“Including the library?”
Her question gets me laughing, and I give a helpless shrug. “The only reason I added a library was that I could tell you missed studying. Still, the books here can’t be taken anywhere else, so people will have to come here to study them or make copies. That means coins are coming into the community.”
The room gets brighter with the creation glow filling the shelves, and Irene across them in confusion. “How is that possible? You’re not singing as you did with the cove or Temple.”
“It’s easier if I physically sing, but I’m controlling so many songs at once it would be hard to talk—the noise would drown out our words. Most of the energy of the songs isn’t anything humans or elves can hear; it’s a projection of a rare Power. Shall I explain what I wanted to do for the children?”
Irene glances towards the noise of the first book setting on its shelf. “Alright.”
“I’d like to put in constant gates between a few locations in the village and-.”
Irene’s gasp interrupts my explanation. “Constant gates! Really?”
“I want all the children to have the same access to learning, Irene.”
“The cost of construction,” protests Irene. “Why bother putting roads in if you’re going to make it pointless to have them?”
“The gates will only be usable by individuals, not wagons; I’d put four at most about the place. Set the cost aside because that isn’t a factor,” I say. “Now, the purpose for the gates was for the children to come to the classes I’ve got Hagen teaching; I wouldn’t limit them.”
“I’ve met Hagen. How long do you expect the Celestial to remain around?” asks Irene.
Her direct question gets a smile. “You spotted that?”
“He gives himself away if you look for it,” observes Irene. “Given you have a being from Mechanus involved in running Sanctuary, I kept an open mind when I spoke to him.”
“Hagen is technically a Hound Archon and will be around long enough to train up a few Mortal teachers at the very least,” I say. “The classes will provide new opportunities for the children they otherwise wouldn’t have, plus I’m paying him.”
“Only a Hound Archon? He has a more substantial presence about him than I’d expect in that case. Very well. Now, about these gates that you seem to casually expect to construct,” Irene allows.
“My aunt casually constructed Sanctuary’s tower; I can easily manage gates. I could see people using them to reach the temples quickly for services and emergencies, or adventurers might come to the inn instead of eating in the dormitory.”
Setting an illusionary map of the village on the table, I put marks beside the inn, Guildhall, north gate, and warehouse.
“Though he hides it well, Georgius was most upset with you for his rooms nearly emptying,” offers Irene, her expression shifting between disbelief and calm as she struggles to compose herself studying the map. “Something to prompt some of them to come for meals might mend that fence with him.”
“His guests and staff were both unhappy with the overcrowding. He should fancy up the rooms for when wealthier adventurers get here; they're more likely to pay higher rates if the room is well appointed.”
Irene exhales softly, but motions for me to continue when I pause.
“The Grand Master mentioned that he expected constant traffic of adventuring teams to arrive to use Sanctuary’s Beastland annex. However, the dormitory contains only large shared rooms and washrooms, so Georgius could make money catering to those willing to pay well for private rooms.”
“I don’t think he’s been told,” comments Irene, her expression still conflicted.
“Tell me, does it get confusing with two Georgiuses on the council?”
“Not generally, though there have been occasions,” admits Irene.” I should perhaps inform Georgius about the news, I’m not sure if he’s heard.”
“I’d suggest discussing it with Alfarr, he might have more details; they were talking about people needing to earn contribution points to use the annex.”
“Didn’t you take it out of their control?”
“Leverage, while they adhere to certain agreements; they have nominal control over the rules of use. If they break the agreements, they’ll lose all control, and I’m unlikely to let them have it back,”
“You’re not worried about someone threatening you about them?”
“I can destroy them as quietly as I’m creating these books, and there isn’t a way they could stop me.”
“Some might kill you to gain control,” cautions Irene
“They could try, but I’ll resurrect. Also, I’m sure whoever did it would be dead before I even got the chance to fully recover,” I say, and her gazes widening prompts me to continue. “I wouldn’t have to do anything; Tove is very protective of her friends. At most it would be annoying, as then I’d have to regain some levels. All my gear has curses on it that I have to deactivate as my aunt is very paranoid about thieves. I can also trace it easily, so it’s not something they’ll find profitable.”
“Curses?”
“She got the idea from a story—my pendant turns whoever steals it into an arse, things like that,” I explain and shrug. “I can give equipment she’s created to people, but if it’s not done willingly, it has the same effect. The stuff I’ve made isn’t anywhere near as good, as my aunt is far stronger than me.”
“What happens if Goblin raiders or something got over the wall and used the gates?”
“I’ll have to put detections on the gates to prevent anyone that would activate the defences from even using them. If someone from the village, or a visitor, were maliciously inclined, they’d also trigger the defences at full force.”
“I’ve seen the warning on Sanctuary’s fence,” admits Irene. “I didn’t realise it would escalate immediately if someone appeared within the fence line.”
“It’s based on distance inside the fence line. Something malicious flying in from the ocean side gets no warning. Once within four hundred metres of the bluff, they’ll start getting hit with the tower’s strongest attacks.”
Thea appears above the table and spins about. “Hi, Gail. Irene, Myrrine is here for more tonic to calm her stomach.”
“I’ll be right there,” Irene replies, and Thea disappears. “Myrrine must be having twins this time if she’s gone through the last batch of tonic already.”
Listening to the music near the temple, I nod. “I’d assume the older one is Myrrine, but both the women in front of the temple are pregnant. The older one has triplets, and the other carries one.”
Irene glances out the window and frowns. “There is always one who believes she doesn’t need a maiden’s draft. I’ll see if Tasenka knows she’s pregnant and what she plans to tell her parents.”
“Oops?”
“The gossips say she’s been friendly with a visiting adventurer, so that’s one way to put it,” Irene explains before standing.
“If Tasenka or the father want regular work, I need to hire staff to help manage things in Sanctuary. They’ll have to be interviewed, but it’s a potential for steady employment, and less risky than adventuring,” I offer.
Irene shakes her head. “That is for her to discuss with her lover and parents. Though if you are looking to hire people, I think we have more things to discuss than your gates. I’ll be back in a little while.”
“We don’t need to talk about them today. I won’t set up any gates until the council has discussed it and okayed them. Lots of options for them besides what I’ve already proposed; suggestions or questions are also welcome.”
“Then I’d like to talk further before you approach the village council, Gail,” Irene says, and shooting another glance out the window, she heads off with a sigh.
