Fluid - 26 (Patreon)

Heading off after dinner, Teleport places me in our recovery room at Sanctuary. Before seeking Sarah or Midyåci, I layer extra wards into place and adjust the window’s seal against the stone.

The evening's discussion with Midyåci held no surprises other than the number of guild masters and clerks the Adventurers’ Guild needed to be trained. The map that the guild provided Midyåci showed hundreds of locations across what was formerly the kingdoms of Crete and Egypt.

“No wonder they’re drowning,” I murmur, taking in how outnumbered the guild locations are on the map. “What do they do in the other places?”

“A lot of those are hamlets and thorpes with under a hundred souls living there. The guild supports them by sending riders through regularly to ensure there isn’t trouble brewing,” explains Midyåci.

Hasusar’s arrival out front has me pause in mid-question. “Are you expecting Grand Master Hasusar this evening?”

“I’ve not committed when, or even if, you’d ratify the agreement,” Midyåci says and secures the memory crystal she’d used for notes.

“He could be here for something else,” I suggest.

Rising from her seat, Midyåci motions to the mithril circle. “Perhaps we should go down to greet him rather than have someone direct him up here.”

“Good point.”

We’re barely at the stairs when I hear Alfarr’s arrival and greeting to Hasusar.

Peering over the balcony, I call down to them. “Are you both here to see me?”

Although Alfarr wears the same loose clothing style as last I’d seen him, Hasusar has foregone his armour. I don’t know if he considered his clothing fancy, but it has lots of ornamentation. His full-sleeved white undershirt and short-sleeved light blue over-shirt are loose-fitting and heavily embroidered at the cuffs, waist, and throat with a geometric pattern. A loose belt cinches them close at his waist, but they still hang down nearly to mid-thigh over the light green cotton pants he wears tucked into heeled riding boots.

Scrubbing fingers through his solid black hair, Hasusar looks up, and his dark gaze assesses me carefully before he gives me a nod of greetings. “I’d been intending to seek you out after speaking to Alfarr. Do you have time to talk with us both now?”

“I’ve time. There are rooms we can use on this floor to talk,” I reply.

Not waiting for them to join us, I open up the room towards the front of the building and thankfully find it’s furnished for relaxing. Three flat leather padded benches encircle a low table; I pick a spot at the end of one and sit down to wait.

Midyåci shrugs and sits down beside me.

“If you’ve identified others as suitable instructors and helpers, I’ll summon them this evening for you?” I propose.

“There are two I’d prefer to deal with, but I’m currently determining the best options,” confirms Midyåci. “I should complete my communications with potential assistants in a few days.”

“I’ll leave you to decide when you want them summoned then,” I say, and we let the silence settle until Hasusar and Alfarr arrive.

I don’t rise but gesture to the benches and, while they settle, I put a sound barrier in place.

“Midyåci has taken me over the proposed agreement, and I am happy to go ahead based on the negotiated terms. I’ll let Midyåci coordinate the site and numbers for the initial training with you, Grand Master Hasusar,” I state.

“I’m glad that’s settled so quickly. Since, every time we’ve spoken, you’ve been careful to use my title—even when dedicating terms—what title should I be using for you?”

“I’ve already told you my name is Gail, or Gailneth if you wish for formality,” I say.

Hasusar’s gaze narrows, and he slowly shakes his head. “Given the official communications I’ve had with Andúnë court today, speaking so familiarly to you near them might get me in trouble.”

“Putting aside the fact I’ve no intention of meeting with you alongside them, do you know why the Andúnë King is aware of my presence here so quickly? I certainly had no plans to contact their court at all.”

“They’re arriving here tomorrow,” protests Hasusar.

“Arriving here to see me and, after we sort things out, I’m sure they might have things to discuss with you. However, I’ve no intention of being part of the negotiations between your country and theirs,” I state and raise my hand when he goes to protest. “You’ve still not answered my question: do you know why the Andúnë King is aware of my presence here?”

“I spoke with some elves about your crystal, and within an hour I had a representative of the High Singer in my office wanting to see it. They waved another crystal near it and it flared with light, then they left without an explanation.”

The begrudging admission holds a sharp edge.

“Bloody mysterious elves,” I huff.

“You’re an Elf,” snaps Hasusar.

“You’ve made a headache for both of us and you want me to be forthcoming? If you’d asked Yngvarr more about the crystal instead of speaking to anyone else, we’d both have had more time for preparations.”

“Trust but verify; even if you get the same information from two people, sometimes one can provide it from a very different perspective,” answers Hasusar. “You’ve got a funny way of wanting to avoid the Andúnë court, given you’re already speaking of opening portals for trade.”

“I only proposed the idea after Alfarr told me about Yngvarr being called to speak to the court. It’s a Portal I hope might benefit the village to compensate for the headache the Andúnë court might end up being,” I admit.

“You’ve hardly been keeping your presence here subtle. This Sanctuary of yours stands out‌,” critiques Hasusar.

“The cat was already out of the bag, and I don’t believe I answer to you,” I state.

As if I’ve made his point, Hasusar taps the air between us. “This brings me back to wondering about your title, given how strongly you objected to Imhotep being improperly controlling. Is no one allowed to give you orders?”

Not rolling my eyes at that took some effort but I managed it—maybe. “There are certainly some I would take orders from, but Imhotep’s conduct made him one to which I wouldn’t bend a knee.”

“Can you count that list on the one hand?” probed Hasusar.

Merely considering the ranks of angels that serve my mother has me shaking my head.

“I can think of several thousand individuals whose orders I’d act on immediately, even if some I’d like to know their reasoning afterwards. Is the Andúnë court causing you that much of a headache already?”

“I’ve had court officials making noises about your residence making Apollo’s Reach your territory.”

Groaning, I rub at my temples. “What mushrooms have they been eating?”

Alfarr snorts. “Leave the fuzzy purple ones alone, but technically they’re right.”

“What are you talking about?” demands Hasusar.

“What part of the accords are they quoting for this stupidity?”

“When Hasusar messaged me to meet about this, I asked Yngvarr; he’s already been arguing this point. When humans got here, we weren’t in good shape. The elves, dwarves, and gnomes gave us initial help as part of an agreement. Among the clauses was that the lands determined to be owned by members of those species would have a 20 kilometre border, where their laws and authority held sway. The court says we signed over authority when the village sold the land to Gail.”

“Were the signatories the dwarves, gnomes, Taurë, Isil, and Andúnë, and the Human fleet?” I ask.

“You always mention the dwarves first,” laughs Alfarr. “The hill dwarves likely signed separately.”

“Of course; they’re proud and independent. Hasusar, please inform them that my species wasn’t a signatory of the treaty; therefore, quoting the clauses about ceding of authority isn’t relevant. I also agreed the land was only mine while I paid tithe to the village, which makes me a tenant, not a landowner,” I state and frown at Alfarr. “How did the Jarl of Eyrarháls avoid this?”

“You look like a Taurë,” states Hasusar

“I’m not, and we have no treaty with the humans nor anything currently arranged with the Andúnë,” I clarify. “They’re making unnecessary noise and causing headaches for us both.”

Hasusar’s eyebrows lift at my lack of a definite answer. “‘We’ being?”

“Members of my species. Now, about Yngvarr’s house in Eyrarháls?”

“No one was trying to butter Yngvarr up by trying to get him more lands in Eyrarháls,” states Alfarr. “We should discuss the Portal you talked about establishing.”

The quartet of scars on Hasusar’s left cheek flex in time to the brief sound of grinding teeth. “What is it you’re seeking to achieve?”

“Helping the village prosper, but trying to limit the impact on local food prices‌,” I explain.

Hasusar gives a tense nod. “You’ve already changed this village in ways that some will indeed benefit from, but I can see problems from that prosperity.”

Not sure how people not being so poor can be bad, I shrug in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Can I ask why you thought about the food prices?” enquires Hasusar.

“I sold the meat from giant crabs at Stoneheart. The amount they provided seemed like a lot, given this village has people continually culling crabs,” I explain. “If it's that profitable, who benefitted? I find it impossible to believe the village has had hundreds of golds flowing through it each week. With setting up a permanent Portal, I was worried everyone would sell their excess catch to the elves or dwarves, and locals wouldn’t have enough food they could afford.”

The scars near his mouth straighten as muscles in his face and jawline relax during my explanation. When I finish up, he nods again; the veins easing in his neck. “You saw the issue but didn’t take it far enough. You said your species wasn't a signatory, but you didn’t say what elven species you belong to.”

“It's unfortunate if it offends you, but it’s not something I’ll share; I’m a member of a tiny group of elves. The chance of you ever seeing another living member is so minute as to verge on impossible.”

“Unfortunate, but you’re not sorry about it,” observes Hasusar dryly.

“What you find offensive isn’t in my control, and my history doesn’t involve you.”

Hasusar smiles, and despite the scars twisting his mouth, the wrinkles still form at the corner of his eyes. “Very well, Gail. What do your kinfolk do for trade?”

“At home, we make what we need, but ‌I know the theory of trade,” I admit.

Hasusar brow furrows before he glances between the table and the walls. “They’re entirely self-sufficient? Your community magically makes buildings, furnishings, equipment, whatever they need?”

“We can take care of ourselves,” I say, frowning when his gaze narrows in anticipation.

“The problem is, the village can’t take care of itself in the same fashion. What will you do once you get the key you’re looking for? Will you stay or head home? If you don’t want it falling apart, whatever you set up here would need to be independent of your abilities,” cautions Hasusar.

I resist the urge to poke at him for his scepticism. “I wouldn’t leave them high and dry.”

Hasusar nods understandingly then raises a cautioning finger. “What about all the smaller communities that depend on the goods coming from here? Or those that depend on the merchants coming here for baskets of salt, dried fish, and materials from the swamp?”

“The alchemical materials make the merchants’ trips worthwhile?”

“For some merchants it will be the only reason they come here. But an empty wagon makes no coins; they trade along the way, to offset the cost of feed and paying guards,” explains Hasusar. “If they stop coming, those isolated communities will go without. They’ll be short on salt, dried fish, wool, cotton, or a hundred other things they can’t produce themselves. What will that do to their way of life? Have you ever gone without?”

Exhaling slowly, I nod. “I had someone else comment on that earlier today. What do you suggest?”

“The temples you’ve made, the library in the temple of Hestia, and certainly Sanctuary will cause enough disruption to the villager’s way of life. I’d like you to go easy on introducing more change until we see how-”

“The salt farmers as well,” murmurs Alfarr.

“What?” snaps Hasusar in surprise.

“Salt production is up twenty times what it was a few days ago. It could be more, but they’re not filling the trays as often as they could. They’re going to have problems storing it all,” explains Alfarr.

“I’ve got lots of crab meat to salt. I’ve only sold one batch to the dwarves,” I explain, feeling almost defensive. “Surely more salt is a good thing? The more plentiful it is, the more affordable those close by should find it.”

“Will you see if the village council will change the name of this place to something I can stand to say when discussing the changing situation with the guild’s council?” Hasusar asks Alfarr.

When Alfarr nods, Hasusar turns his attention back to me. “Please slow down on further changes. Let’s see how things shake out and set up sustainable improvements. Word of the annex is spreading, so expect a bunch of adventurers coming here looking to make a profit in addition to everything else. Even that will need to be managed, as most adventurers will find the annex more profitable than the swamp or most jobs here.”

“Contribution points,” says Midyåci matter-of-factly.

Her sudden comment grabs our attention, but Hasusar gets in first. “What?”

“They need to accumulate guild contribution points to take part in a hunt or gather in the annex. The guild can determine the rate at which different jobs will earn points. Set up something so they can earn points at other locations, come here to hunt for a time, and head off again to earn more. For those not interested in hunting here, it could also be a means to gain sponsored access to guild resources, special trainers, alchemists, etc.”

Alfarr coughs. “It’s not only the circulation of goods that can be an issue. If too many adventurers concentrate here, we’ll have a problem with monsters and pests left unchecked.”

“I think this discussion will take a while,” states Hasusar.

“I can give you two hours. I’ve practice and will normally enter reverie shortly.”

“When you’re not partying,” says Alfarr drily, and at that, I roll my eyes.

We’re done in three, but only because I call a stop once they’ve got a framework. Hasusar also has more questions than he started with, even without my suggesting the storage devices tied to Sanctuary. I shouldn’t have recommended recording details to centrally held memory crystals, nor the psi-crystals to track accumulations.

The pleased smile Alfarr gives me heading down the stairs eases the headache I’ve gained.

“What are you so smug about?”

“It seems Midyåci gave me a solution to getting the new adventurers to keep taking the safer pest extermination jobs. I’ll rate them higher in contribution points for the copper ranks and let them sell the points to the silvers and golds.”

Remembering the explanation Phile gave me about new adventurers being too ambitious, I nod happily. “I hope that saves some lives.”

“It will let them get better equipment and pay living costs,” replies Alfarr, waving as he heads off.

“It’s a common headache for most guild masters. I’ve got an evening of work to handle as well now,” sighs Hasusar,

“Could I ask a favour, Hasusar?” I ask, and hurry on. “It’s one I’m happy to pay for in advance. It’s also completely personal and separate from our other dealings.”

“If you’re paying I won’t categorise it as a favour,” replies Hasusar. “I’ll listen.”

I take the time to check Sarah is out of earshot before the words come out in a rush. “Can you send some enquiries through the guild masters in Nova Roma? I’m looking for an Artificer named Gaius Januarius Domitius. He used to work for the Church of Vulcan but I don’t know where he’d be with their collapse. The family used to be wealthy merchants and landowners around the capital and he went on a church expedition to the north thirty-odd years ago.”

“What compensation are you offering for this information?” asks Hasusar, after repeating the name and a summary of the details.

“Not just coin, I could provide a special ability called Inventory. It gives you access to a personal dimensional space that you can expand by creative uses of the ability.”

“Most people just offer to pay for a job on the board.”

“I don’t want a half effort. Stretch this ability, and you can have it handle tonnes, and it’s theft-proof.”

“Given your other feats, I’ll take the offer at face value. A powerful motive, but paying in advance seems odd, most would worry about getting no result,” comments Hasusar.

“You’re someone that takes debts seriously. I’m not offering the ability to the person who does the job but to you, to ensure they leave no stone unturned. It feels manipulative of me offering it this way, but it's important. I don’t need him contacted, and I intend him no harm. All I’m after is information on where he is living or what happened to him after the expedition and Gods’ War,” I clarify.

Hasusar stares at me intently, but I don’t interrupt his consideration. “I’ll see it done.”

“Thank you,” I say and start to croon. Having learnt the lesson from my access to it, I push a forceful rush of energy into its creation, making it expand fully before I connect it to him. “Hold an item and want it stored. You can initially retrieve it with a thought, in your hand or anywhere in contact with you.”

Taking a dagger from his belt, Hasusar gives me a sceptical look that changes into surprise when it vanishes. The blade quickly reappears, and he checks its heft before reattaching it to his belt.

“How much can it hold now?”

“10 kilograms. If you stretch its limits it will increase quickly, but you have to be more creative after a while. My aunts increased it by carving stone figures, tunnels, and chambers; husking the meat out of giant crabs also works well. Items stored in it are in stasis and don't rot.”

Exhaling sharply, Hasusar shakes his head in surprise. “Keep your coin until the job is done.”

With that, he strides away, teleporting the moment he’s outside the building’s wards.

With my mind jumping around with ideas, reverie is challenging to find. Resorting to harp practice lets me find my focus and regain enough calm to rest. My quiet mood in the morning must be infectious because we barely speak over breakfast.

Phile even waits until Myrto joins us after the dawn service before blurting a question. “Do we get to see the inside of your tower?”

Shrugging, I look around the group, the interest clear from all of them, including a suspicious amount from Nanok. “We can do that after this morning’s cull if you’d like; we can use the small dining room to eat lunch.”

“Small?” asks Phile.

When I only give a mysterious smile, Phile grits her teeth impatiently at my baiting.

“Auntie Am made the tower’s interior to torment me, I’m sure,” I grumble. “There is a massive banquet hall at the end of the entryway—it could seat the entire village.”

“How do wizards squeeze things into spaces where they shouldn’t fit?” enquires Nikias.

One of Sarah’s jokes tempts me to tease him about squeezing things into tight spaces, but I behave.

“Well, the outside is an access point to a Demi-Plane, and that’s it,” I explain, and get blank looks from everyone except Ipy. “Easier to see it than explain it.”

“How big is the Demi-Plane? What are the inhabitants like?” asks Ipy, in his typically calm tone despite his gaze brightening. “When did your aunt create it?”

“It's still growing, and there aren’t any inhabitants, only visitors like us. From what I can tell, my aunt started it growing yesterday; it’s rapidly expanding still.”

With a host of questions on his lips, Ipy stops, struggling to decide which one is first. “She didn’t achieve it via any Wizard spells, did she?”

“No, but I know a few extremely high-level wizards. If you’re interested in magic on that scale, I can ask if one of them can help,” I offer.

“I’m curious to learn more about the Spell lists required,” replies Ipy.

“That’s information I’m sure I can get for you. Shall we head off?” I ask, catching the impatience from some of the team.

The routine of the cull settles everyone down, including me. A perfectly routine day that’s shattered upon entry to the tower.

“How?” gasps Nikias, peering around in disbelief.

Equally shocked, Myrto remains quiet and trails her fingertips across the smooth bark of a tree close to the entry.

Trying to peer over a shrub to the closest path, Ipy’s gaze narrows. “There are illusions among the trees?”

“Layers of illusions to ensure privacy; each room is a bower or clearing, so without them, you’d obviously see or perhaps hear too much.”

Striding down the entryway towards the banquet hall’s daylight, Phile comes to a halt with a gasp and calls back. “How many people is your aunt expecting to turn up?”

“Far more than I’d prefer,” I say, and the frustration in my tone draws a laugh. “Explore a bit, and then I’ll teleport us to the small dining hall.”

Phile absently nods. “I’ve already told mum we wouldn’t be back for lunch.”

They only get a short time to explore before Nikias and my stomach both lodge loud protests. Amid the jokes about pursuing beasts, I show them spaces they can use to freshen up and take the opportunity myself.

The small dining room aunt Am provided features a round Laen table with the same wooden chairs as the main banquet hall. When I sit down, a strange, slowly turning tray, laden with various foods and drinks appears at its midpoint. Cold cuts of meat, fruits, salads, and a range of drinks.

“All this for lunch,” murmurs Androkles.

“Some cultures eat larger meals at lunch or breakfast than the Greeks do; the enchantment serves food suitable for the time and weather outside the tower. Please help yourself.”

That’s all the prompting they need, and I take samples from a few of the dishes closest to me.

We’re lingering at the table when Sarah’s disembodied voice causes Myrto and Nikias to jump. While the others are less overt, that’s only because their hands move towards weapons instead of an untrained reflex. “Your guests have already arrived. I’m on the third-floor balcony watching them.”

“Should I let them get settled?”

“You’ll want to see this display,” asserts Sarah.

“What about the dishes?” asks Myrto.

“Anything still on the tables will vanish, and there are dishes we didn’t even touch. Take anything you want a share of and it’ll remain.”

“Are you planning to treat us this way often?” asks Androkles.

“It’s not a treat, it can be an everyday thing. Aunt Am made it for feeding our team.”

Androkles motions Myrto and Nikias to go first. “Let’s take turns sharing it. Gail wants to feed the village even without cooking crabs up.”

That gets a laugh that grows when I pout in mock offence. I stand only after Myrto and Nikias have finished securing the food for others in the village. With everyone set, Teleport puts us near the balcony’s access point.

Sarah is standing close to where it lets us out, clad in another of her diaphanous dresses. Given the deep V at the front and back, the Psionic creation stays in place through a continued exercise of will alone.

The orderly rows of troops marching onto the property make it easy to tally the hundred Royal Guards. That doesn’t hold for the courtiers still streaming from the Portal beyond them. Their milling numbers are harder to count, but they outnumber the guard at least 3 to 1. Their fancy flowing silk garments have adornments of gemstones and threads of mithril and come in every colour of the rainbow, all with crests magically impressed into the cloth. Mostly, the courtiers are male, and it's easy to understand what they, or their families, believe they can achieve.

I groan. “How is that an entourage and not an invasion? I told Yngvarr I’d see her at the evening meal.”

Sarah fixes me with a smile. “You’ve got to consider how much time it will take to settle into their quarters and unpack.”

Spotting Yngvarr in the crowd next to a female dressed in a flowing green dress, I use a quick round to zoom my vision and find his composed expression lacks its usual liveliness.

“I think someone did an end run on Yngvarr,” I murmur. “It must have been a last-minute thing since he didn’t warn me.”

Sarah’s suddenly bitter smile sours the amusement that had been present in her gaze. “Sneaky elves. It’s all house politics. Do you find that surprising?”

“Not particularly. How many factions do you think are among this horde? Maybe I should send them home if unpacking takes so long.”

“It might be safer for us to watch the detonations from afar,” interjects Nanok, his gaze flicking between the courtiers' attire and the leather pants and green silk shirt I wear. Despite having changed after returning from the beach, I’m quite plain. “Alright, maybe you were attempting to blend in.”

Resting my hands on the balcony, I nod at the courtiers. “I told you my clothing at home is fancier than the dress I wore my first day, but nothing I own is that elaborate. I wonder if they fart rainbows.”

Nanok snorts. “Where do you get your sayings?”

“I have had a colourful life so far,” I retort and hurriedly continue before he can ask. “Mithril is for weaponry, armour, and enchanted objects not clothing, unless it's heavily enchanted, and theirs barely holds anything.”

“Perhaps that’s barely anything to your perspective,” says Nanok.

The lack of accusation in his tone stops me in surprise. “Yes, my skewed perspective. Sorry we cut lunch short. Did you want me to send you to the village?”

Myrto shrugs. “The walk won’t hurt us after that meal unless you want to get us away quickly.”

“Someone is bound to say something stupid; please ignore them. They’ve already got spells trying to listen to us talking. I can feel them brushing against the tower’s outer wards.”

That earns a contemptuous snort from Phile. “They should learn to read lips. It's usually enough to give you the core.”

“There is likely a number that can do that. Gail surely shocked any that can,” offers Sarah.

Phile gives a chastised nod and turns away from the crowd. “Don’t underestimate the fluttering elves. Let’s get going.”

She touches the mithril panel on this balcony level and disappears.

Myrto lifts a hand to her mouth. “Doesn’t that mean you shouldn’t have made those remarks, Gail?”

“No, I said them because they’re here for their reasons, not for my benefit. If anyone caught my comments, they know I’m not happy with this fuss, but we’ll all pretend otherwise. After all, I don’t have any servants they can attempt to bribe for the inside information.”

“But Sarah-”

Sarah’s snicker cuts Myrto off. “I’m happy to sell them misinformation if they’re stupid enough. Every girl needs a collection of baubles and useless trinkets.”

Smiling, I pass her a diamond necklace that quickly stops glowing. “I’ll need to make you some other fancies for your bed.”

As the others head on their way, I see Hasusar emerge from Sanctuary to watch the parade.

“Maybe you should dress up and put on your game face. I’ll go down and herd the cats,” comments Sarah.

“I’ll see you before dinner.”

“That’s a lot of time to put on your game face,” says Sarah dryly, bouncing the heavy necklace on her palm. “I think you saved me having to refuse their bribes.”

Stepping inside, I make sure the others have left before I reply. “I told them when I would meet with them, but they chose to come early with that mob. So I’ve got a different game face in mind. That aside, the evening might run late, so I’ll need to practice my harp this afternoon.”

“You and Amdirlain both like to focus on your priorities when you’re mad,” comments Sarah.

“I’m not mad, though I am disappointed. It looks like they see me as a route back to a time they don’t even remember properly and have bloated with reverence,” I say and offer a shrug. “That’s not counting those that see me as an opportunity for a great political marriage without knowing one thing about me. They best have a good reason for this charade.”

Sarah raises a single eyebrow in the same weird fashion aunt Am favours. “What approach are you going to take?”

“I’m going to smile and be polite, but also, I plan to act, not react. I’ll see how well they react to the unexpected,” I say, and releasing my control mid-sentence has my voice shifting towards a deep tenor and other things quickly change. The now platinum-blond hair barely makes it past my ears, and my shoulders are broad enough to be noticeably different—though I’m still reasonably lean. “Please let Yngvarr know to get in touch once the noise dies. Maybe he can talk me out of my desire to give them a diplomatic biff.”

The glow from my eyes reflects off white teeth as Sarah howls with laughter.

I leave her to it and teleport to my room.