Ar'Kendrithyst

The destruction of a city using principles of magic that Erick had willed into being, was not something he expected to ever really happen. Hiring Kiri as a secretary was unexpected, too. Mog asking him to never come back to class was unplanned, as well; he still had a lot to learn about personal defense, but at least Kiri was able to spar with him as soon as she got hired by the Army, whenever that might be.

Erick almost wanted to pursue that whole situation with Kiri and the Army, to make sure her hiring was uneventful, but other events and happenings took precedence.

The Guard and the Farmer’s Council worked fast in dispersing cheering incani from angry dragonkin; the orcol and wrought stayed out of that fight. It wasn’t a direct confrontation anyway, according to Poi; there were no humans on Spur’s farms, yet. There was a worry about the human and the incani at the Adventurer’s guildhouse, though. After the Guard dispersed the farmers, they reoriented to both the Mage and Adventurer’s Districts to set up constant patrols.

Erick didn’t know what the Adventurer’s District looked like, but he could guess.

As Erick walked the streets of the Mage’s District, he passed men and women in the plain steel armor of the Guard, watching out for trouble; patrolling. Erick had come to the Mage Guildhouse to see Guildmaster Sirocco Zago, the matronly incani who ran the place, and ask her about what was happening. But Erick quickly learned from Anhelia that Zago was out of her office, already in the Incani District, trying to do… something.

Anhelia, all grey metal and looking like an incani, stood behind the welcoming receptionist’s counter, staring Erick down. “This is not your war, Erick. Do not go to the Incani District. Do not try to stop anything or step into this mess. This is not your fault, this is not about you. Stay out of it. Stay very, very, far away, like us wrought, and the orcols, and even the dragonkin, though some of those people might have a specific platform to be angry with certain incani in town. Don’t you go involving yourself in this mess. Silverite is already on it.”

So Erick went home, and tried not to think about what was happening five full [Teleport]s away, and right in his backyard.

He failed.

He decided he needed to talk to the Oceanside Trio; the only other humans he knew in town.

He opened the door to his own house and got one step out, when he saw Silverite and Zago and some human guy walking toward his house. They stopped. Erick stopped. Erick stepped back into his house.

Erick asked. “Hello?”

Silverite said, “May we hold on the introductions till we are settled somewhere inside?”

Erick had no idea what was happening, but he would likely find out soon.

Erick put on his best business face and said, “Of course! Come right in,” as he stepped aside so that Silverite, Zago, and the stranger could enter. Erick guided them to the sun room and opened the curtains to a view of his garden and the city across the human district. The sun was maybe an hour from setting; it cast long orange light through the sun room. Teressa went to make coffee at Erick’s request, while Poi took point outside the room.

All the while, Erick caught glimpses of the stranger. The human man was average, with desert-brown skin and greying brown hair. He had a habit that Erick recognized he shared with Jane; with steely blue eyes, the man casually took in the entrances and exits to the room. The man also had a sure grace to his steps and movements; he was in peak physical condition. Inside the sun room, the four of them sat more or less equally around the two long sides of a rectangular coffee table, while the afternoon sun draped orange light between two pairs of people. Zago made sure to take her place as far away from the man as possible. Erick sat beside Zago, while the stranger sat beside Silverite. Erick touched the Silver Star affixed to his own shirt; it felt unusually warm, but it wasn’t hot.

Seated, and with coffee on the way, Silverite began, “I would like to introduce you, Archmage Erick Flatt, to Viscount Andro Helix, the man entrusted by the Viridian King and Council of Kingdoms in the Greensoil Republic to control Frontier for the last several years. Viscount Helix, this is Archmage Erick Flatt.”

Yet another conversation where Erick was way out of his depth.

Joy.

Erick said, “Hello, Viscount Helix.”

Helix said, “Salutations, Archmage Flatt.” He continued, “It’s my understanding we have you to thank for two great boons recently. Both for the SLRs you cast across Frontier to drive back Bulgan, as well as the quick identification of the methods used to kill one of our sister kingdoms.” He said, “To cut to the quick: Frontier would like you to cast [Withering] upon our city every now and then.”

As Erick was thinking of how respond—

Silverite said, “And upon Spur at roughly the same rate.”

“And upon Kal’Duresh,” Zago said. "Today, if possible. Tomorrow, if not."

Erick’s train of thought got thoroughly derailed. “… I heard there were some almost riots today. That’s going to stop, right?”

The Silver Star on his shirt cooled. Was that a good thing?

Zago breathed deep. Silverite stilled.

Helix smirked, and said, “Nothing will happen on our end.” He turned toward Zago. “I can’t make promises for these murderers over here.”

Silverite started, “Now, Za—”

Zago said, “Don’t pretend to be some beacon of propriety, Viscount Helix, when your people murder incani adventurers from Kal’Duresh all the time.”

Helix smiled now. “It’s only fair. Don’t pretend that Kel’Duresh is not still supporting Bulgan—”

Zago yelled, “Slander and lies! Bulgan is a monster! He turned on everyone—”

“And yet his first real action as a Shade was to attack Frontier.” Helix said, "You—"

“Stop.” Erick said, “Please.”

A calm descended, as fighters returned to their corners.

Teressa entered the room with a tray carrying four mugs and a large pot of coffee, along with milk and raw cactus sugar in little cups with little spoons. She set the tray down on the coffee table, then exited the room, never turning her back to the people inside.

Erick stood up to serve coffee.

“Helix? Sugar or milk? I recommend both for first time drinkers.”

Helix said, “I couldn’t accept first pour. Please serve Zago, first.”

“Now, Viscount.” Silverite said, “I hope that was not a barb pointed in my direction. I would not allow you to come to harm in my city, and I hope you and your Republic would know this.”

“Of course not, Mayor. I just don’t trust the interests of Kal’Duresh.” Helix looked to Zago. “They have operatives everywhere.”

Zago harrumphed.

Erick didn’t miss a beat, turning to Zago, asking, “Milk? Sugar?”

“Both,” she said. “Please.”

Erick poured the first cup, and smiled; platinum coffee poured into the mug. Teressa had used the good stuff. Helix raised an eye at the platinum liquid, but Zago just took her cup and instantly sipped the hot drink. She smiled at Helix with what had to be a calculated amount of contained menace. Only after everyone had sipped from their own drinks, including Silverite, and Helix had cast a casual, tiny [Cleanse] at his own mug, producing nothing, did Helix sip his platinum coffee. He paused. He sipped again.

Helix said, “This is… really quite good.”

Silverite said, “Blessed by Atunir herself, though Erick invented the coffee to begin with. I understand it was supposed to be some sort of bean, but the bean version takes too much preparation.”

Erick said, “Beans from trees that grow in large pods and have to be dried and then roasted. It’s a long and involved process; tea is much simpler, and tastes the same. I want to try making chocolate, too, though I suspect that will have to remain a bean and require hundreds of iterations and several years to get it right.”

“Complicated cultivation?” Helix asked.

“It’s hundreds of flavors that all taste like one, and then there’s the preparation. Fermenting and drying and roasting and grinding. You don’t just make tea out of it, either. You eat the actual beans ground into a paste and then… More and more.” Erick said, “It’s a long process.”

Zago set her coffee down. Something seemed to change in the air.

Silverite and Helix set their drinks down; Erick followed their example.

Zago said, “She is ready.”

Helix frowned.

Zago pointed to her left eye. It began to glow violet. “Baroness Pirazel Xelxex is now in attendance.” Zago said, “Let us discuss the issue we have all come to discuss: the possibility of routine [Withering]s for Kal’Duresh, Spur, and Frontier.”

Helix put on a professional face, though everyone could tell he was not happy.

Zago spoke with a slightly different voice, slightly deeper, with some strange accent, “Greetings, Honored Mayor of Spur, Silverite, Longstanding Friend Guildmaster, Sirocco Zago, Particle Archmage Erick Flatt,” she spat, “and Helix.”

Silverite frowned. She said, “We’ve already had this part, please can we move on?”

“We can have a little bit more.” Helix smiled. “Planned any war crimes lately, Xelxex?”

Xelxex said, “It’s not my fault your people killed Bulgan’s parents. Reap what you sow.”

“His parents were acting on your orders to kill our adventurers in the Dead City, and so was Bulgan, but that’s all normal shit from your people. But Bulgan crossed a line into joining the Shades to commit warcrimes, and you enabled this transition.” He gestured at Zago. "You even roped this one into going along with your plans."

Silverite sighed.

Helix laughed, asking Silverite, “The Republic’s offer of Spur becoming another Kingdom is still there, waiting for you. We could rid both of us of Kal’Duresh’s incani menace. Frontier would vanish; our people would move to Spur. Spur would grow, and all it would require is you accepting the title of Duchess.”

Silverite spoke a sentence that she had likely spoken hundreds of times before, “I am not doing that, Viscount.”

Xelxex frowned with Zago's body, saying, “We have disavowed Bulgan and rooted out all of his co-conspirators, executing twelve people and banishing twenty three others. The information we have provided to Spur should prove that we are not the antagonists here, in fact, according to Bulgan’s ancestors, who we could summon and talk to right now if you wish, Frontier’s former Viscount is to blame for transforming Bulgan into someone willing to become a Shade, for when Helix took control, he did nothing to rectify the problems—”

Helix interrupted, “I’m sure your demons will have a real honest appraisal of themselves and the people they murdered.” He added, “If you want to talk to ancestors, how about we call down my predecessor and he can talk about how you systematically destroyed Frontier with plots that I’m still unraveling all these years later.”

“Like your angels could possibly prove impartial.”

“Are we done yet?” Silverite asked, “Everyone measured each other’s Strength, yet? Let’s move on, please.”

Helix smiled. “Of course. Let’s proceed with this [Withering] discussion.”

Coming in to this conversation, Erick had no idea what was happening, or how it involved him. But now that he was here, in the middle, he saw opportunity.

A lot of opportunity, to do a lot of good, all at once, while still keeping himself separate from this eruption of the Quiet War happening in his backyard.

Thank you, Silverite. He owed her for this.

Erick said, “I’m not getting in the middle of this; this is not my Quiet War. If you want weekly [Witherings], I am willing, but the only city I will be [Withering] whenever-Silverite-decides, is Spur. Your planned cleanings will be well known ahead of time. I’m thinking once a month. I will, of course, respond to emergencies, such as a Shade attack or whatever monster forces might threaten you, as long as I feel safe doing so.”

Helix said, “We’ll pay you 10,000 gold for monthly cleanings and to forgo Kal’Duresh.”

Xelxex, said, “We’ll pay double that, to forgo—”

“You’ll both pay nothing.” Erick said, “Because I’ll do it for the rads from every monster I kill with the spell during the course of this cleaning, which you will remit to Silverite’s care— If that is acceptable?”

Silverite smiled. “Yes. Spur will take on this responsibility.”

Erick nodded. “In the case of you calling me in to repel a monster attack on your city, I will accept half of whatever rads drop from the monsters I get Participation from.”

Silverite kept her smile. “I think this is a wonderful compromise.” Still smiling, she turned to Helix and Xelxex, saying, “Don’t you agree?”

Helix said, “Agreed. Thank you for making this quick, Archmage."

“Acceptable.” Xelxex said, “Can you please show me the spell you will be using?”

Erick popped out the relevant spells and handed them around the table.

Withering Slime, 10 minutes, super long range, 1000 MP.

Unleash a super large wave of semi-sentient magic that searches for monsters and purges them of all water, dealing every second. Cleanse the land around every monster killed in this way.

Particle Mage Only.

Domain of the Withering Slime, 2 MP per second, aura, super long range

Provide an anchor for the Withering Slime to exist on your world.

Particle Mage Only.

Erick said, “[Domain of the Withering Slime] covers about 10 kilometers in every direction, at Aurify 2.”

Silverite did not stare too hard at the boxes, but her entire body froze. Zago —Xelxex— openly stared, then poked the boxes away. Helix smirked, then dismissed the blue boxes.

Helix asked, “What’s your Participation, when you use this?”

“I haven’t gotten under 95%.”

Helix instantly said, “Frontier accepts this spell, and your terms.”

“Are you Phagar’s Champion?” Xelxex asked. “Slimes are his sacred monster.”

“… Are they?” Erick asked.

And then Erick remembered the animated slimes in front of the Sewerhouse, and casual mentions of slimes eating all the bad things and generating a clean environment, and how Phagar thought them cute both physically and philosophically. The wardlight slimes in front of the Sewerhouse were basically a shrine to the God of Death and Time. Erick was sure Al had said that at least once. Maybe.

Or maybe Jane had talked about it?

It was Jane. Phagar’s monster was slimes; he was the only god who had a favored monster. Atunir liked cows. Rozeta preferred handwritten books. Koyabez liked some small bird that didn’t live in this part of the world. Some tiny silver thing that escaped Erick's grasp right now.

Erick said, “Ah. Well. No. I am not Phagar’s champion, either.”

Though he did have some thoughts about the God of Death and Time, Erick wasn’t about to become his champion. If Phagar offered, Erick would not accept.

“So you’ve had offers.” Xelxex looked into her tea. “Atunir, for sure. Others?”

Erick eloquently uttered, “Uh...”

Xelxex said, “Monthly [Withering]s are acceptable. We will defend our vulnerable behind [Weather Ward]s— It is still blocked by [Weather Ward]s, yes?”

“Yes.” Erick could answer that question with confidence. “Tested and proven.”

“Let’s leave this discussion on a good note, then.” Helix said, “Thank you for your hospitality, Archmage. Feel free to call upon me whenever. I will be in touch with Silverite in the following days.”

Xelxex said, “I—”

Helix blipped away in white light.

Xelxex said, “Good riddance.” She turned to Erick. “Kal’Duresh will be in touch. Good day, Archmage.”

The purple glow faded from Zago’s eye. Her hand went to her forehead as she sucked in a breath through her teeth. She said, “Never pleasant, that.”

Silverite frowned at her. “I cannot believe you allowed yourself to be used by her like this.”

Zago said, “You never would have gotten them in the same room together without explosions. It was better this way, even if this action makes it look like Spur has been already infiltrated by Kal’Duresh interests.”

Silverite eyed her, “Are you sure it hasn’t been?”

“I know where I live, Silverite.” Zago said, “I stopped those riots. I slapped wrists. I am repentant.” She turned to Erick. “I’m sorry for how you were treated when you arrived here.”

Erick glared at both of them. “Some heads up for this sort of thing would have been nice.”

Silverite paused. Zago looked at Erick.

Poi stepped in to the room, saying, “Killzone decided to do it this way.”

Zago frowned.

Silverite laughed, saying, “I told Killzone to get Poi to coach you!”

“That explains a lot.” Erick sat down. He called out, “You made nice coffee, Teressa!”

Teressa grunted down the hall, out of sight. Zago began refilling coffee cups. Erick breathed out. A weight seemed to lift from Erick’s shoulders; he relaxed, the Silver Star on his chest once again a gentle, unassuming weight.

Silverite said, “You did well for someone with no time to prepare. Accepting the rads from the monsters you kill was a nice touch.”

“Thanks.” Erick asked, “What’s the fallout of Odaali going to be, with regard to us?”

Zago asked, “What do you know of the Halls of the Dead and the Incani afterlife?”

“Nothing,” Erick said, picking his refilled coffee back up.

Zago began, “The Halls of the Dead is the Wasteland Incani organization responsible for fulfilling the will of our demonic dead, by—”

“Ehm-hmm.” Silverite frowned at Zago.

“Fine. You do it, then.”

Erick said, “Academically, please.”

“Of course.” Silverite said, “When incani die, they become demons and join their ancestors on the pink moon in the sky. That moon goes by many names, but I’ve always called it Hell. Now, on Hell, which is the last remaining remnant of the Fathomless Hells, the demons live, and can be summoned by incani down on Veird, usually by one of their living descendants. The Halls of the Dead are a terrorist organization responsible for carrying out the will of the demonic dead incani.

“Humans, on the other hand, when they die and if they’ve fulfilled the desires of their angelic ancestors, they can join the angels on the white moon, Celes, which is the last remnant of the Infinite Heavens.

“The rest of that discussion is about religion, so let’s avoid that for now, and talk about the facts that we all can agree on.

“Point is: Incani automatically become demons; they have no choice. Humans have a choice.

“Except when human souls are ripped from their bodies by necromancers. The Halls of the Dead kill humans and force those humans to become demons.” Silverite said, “Undead, Demons, and Angels are all the same category of being. In the case of the Halls of the Dead attacking the Greensoil Republic, they kill someone then capture that soul as it leaves, then, with the power of their demonic ancestors, twist that soul into a new form and body, in this case: undead monsters to throw at their enemy, who, upon dying for a second time, go on to become a demon.”

Erick sipped his coffee, pretending he was listening to a horror movie.

Silverite finished. “According to all the necromancers I’ve beheaded over the years, humans are very malleable. Most other sapient souls are not as malleable as the human soul. By contrast, incani souls are the most solid on Veird; they’re always destined to become demons when they die.”

Silverite was evidently done, because she stopped talking.

Erick asked, “So… this is all common knowledge?”

Zago said, “I wouldn’t have said some of the things Silverite said the way she said them… but yes. The Halls of the Dead kill humans as a part of the Quiet War, to bolster the ranks of the demons, in order to fight back against the many angels whose goals are to kill as many demons as possible, and empty Hell forever.” She added, “When humans go to war against incani they bring soul-scouring weapons, to kill both the person and their soul; to kill our selves and our links to our ancestors, for the only way to kill a demon is to kill them on Hell or as they leave their first body.”

All of that was mildly terrifying, but what Erick focused on the most was how Zago said ‘Hell’. She didn’t say the word with disdain, or with hatred, but with joy, or maybe longing.

Erick asked, “What is ‘Hell’ to you, Sirocco?”

Zago smiled. “To see my mother and my father as they were when I was a little girl. To live in peace, among the red leaves, on cinnabar shores, talking to archmages centuries gone about libraries long lost and magic that has vanished on Veird. To be able to rejoin Sizzi whenever she chooses to summon me back to this world, or if not, to watch over those who have no one to watch over them.”

Erick asked, “And the Halls of the Dead wish this paradise on their enemies?”

“Some do. Others are just concerned with the Forever War; about bulking up our forces to combat the angels on Celes who desire the complete eradication of all incani.”

Erick tried to take that all in.

Erick knew he was missing a lot of cultural information, but to be missing this much? Wow. This Quiet war —and now this Forever War— sounded incredibly complicated, with cultural nuances and hatreds and way too many forces moving back and forth.

But killing people was still bad.

He could agree with himself that the Halls of the Dead killing people was bad.

… How the fuck had he almost thought that killing people and warping their souls was okay?!

Erick said, “That’s enough culture for me, for today. When do you want to do the first cleaning, Silverite?”

She looked at him, her silver eyes and skin perfectly placid. She asked, “That’s all your questions?”

Erick tapped the Silver Star on his chest, and said to both of them, “I’m not going to be a part of this cultural [Force Trap], no offense.”

Zago smirked, “None taken.”

Silverite smiled.

- - - -

‘Ring ring, ring ring! Hey, Dad!’

It was well past sunset, hours into night. Erick was cleaning up from dinner, but paused when Jane’s voice came to him. ‘Hey, Jane.’ He put the lid over the leftovers and placed the pot into the cold box. ‘Did you hear about the stuff with the Halls of the Dead?’ He moved out of the kitchen, and went to the sun room, sending, ‘It’s been a very busy day.’

‘I heard you identified the Daydropper, too.’

‘This world is very complicated, and I feel like I am losing something about myself.’

‘Maybe you’re just finding out who you are.’

Erick thought about that for a moment. He sent, ‘Are the moons, Celes and Hell… are they hospitable? I’ve looked up at them many times, but they look like dead rock. I need to invent the telescope.’

‘The moons are hostile to organic life, but if you look at them through Meditation, you can see the trees and oceans.’

‘… I’m going to do that right now.’

‘I’ll wait.’

Erick walked over to his back door then stepped out into the night. Rats called out behind him to wait up. Erick didn’t wait. He stared up into the night sky. Celes, the Silver Star, and Hell, were almost full. They shone down white, grey, and pink light, but with Meditation active…

Hell was still pink, but he could see white that might have been oceans. Celes was still white, but there was green and gold in there, too. The Silver Star was still almost completely grey, but even it had blue waters here and there.

All three of them clearly had atmosphere, too.

Erick sent, ‘Wow. There is an afterlife.’

‘I’ve heard that whichever god you pick guides you to your afterlife, and they’re all different. If you pick none, Rozeta guides you into the Mana Ocean into a karmic cycle. Sort of. Still not clear on that, actually. Religion is complicated.’

‘I don’t know about all that, Jane. All I know is that there’s more than enough problems to solve here without bringing the dead back into the equation.’

‘You know, I thought about ‘solving’ this Quiet War, back when we first heard about it. Then I actually looked into this 1300 year old war. I learned a bit, then considered my place, and I still thought it might have been solvable. But now? With this new stuff happening in the Greensoil Republic… I know those thoughts as pure hubris. There’s more than enough problems to solve right here. I’m glad we got labeled ‘planar’.’

Erick stared out into the night sky. Rats appeared at the doorway, but did nothing but scan the horizon, looking for threats.

‘Dad? You went quiet.’

‘I’m just thinking. They want me to [Withering] Frontier, Kal’Duresh, and Spur, now. I’ve agreed to do it. Also? I told you about Kiri? Well she’s applying to the Army, too, and she’s going to be my secretary.’

‘… You’re gonna have to give me more information than that.’

Erick smiled. ‘Tell me about your day, first. Did you reach level 40, yet?’

‘42! We rescued some dragonkin party from the lower city after they failed to respond to telepathic check in.’ Jane began, ‘There I was, slipping down the kendrythist sides of Forward Base, into the darkness below. I went spider for the darkvision, you know, and the place just lights up like a themepark, or Las Vegas —I’ve told you, but— It’s really beautiful down there. Anyway. We entered the [Teleport] locked part of the mid city, no problem; Shades everywhere, but none to be seen. We slipped past the Lock, into the lower reaches, and bam! Primal Wolves right there on the bridges! Big fuckers the size of a minivan, and fast, too. But we managed to kill them and then it was time to search for clues. First we...’

Erick listened to Jane talk about her day, rescuing people from the Dead City, as he sat down at the table beside his garden; Handy Aura active. He needed 200,000 more Aurify experience to reach Aurify 3. He needed that level; sooner rather than later.

Jane was doing well in Ar’Kendrithyst, and Erick needed to catch up.

Erick smiled at the night. Making contacts with people in Frontier and Kal'Duresh seemed like a good extension of his plans to rid the world of Shades.

- - - -

Erick stood on the massive white stone steps of the Courthouse. The midday sun shone down overhead. Poi and Teressa stood near him, while Silverite and Mog and Killzone stood nearby. Darenka, the silverscale dragonkin head priest of the Interfaith Church, was present, alongside Zago.

It seemed that everyone wanted to see the spell. Erick would not disappoint.

[Domain of the Withering Slime].

This time, the slime did not come from on high. There was no rainstorm noise. White light flowed around Erick, gradually solidifying into the shape of a medium sized dimly opaque [Ward], all around him. As that was happening, from every direction across Spur like a near-invisible, completely intangible ocean surge, thick air spilled into the sky. The body of the Withering Slime manifested from the manasphere, like it had always been there and was just hiding.

Shadowolf notifications started rolling in.

A monster cow notification appeared.

“Whoops!” Erick said, “Monster cow. This good boy slime reaches rather far.”

“Good to know that the meat is monstrous, though the city will have to pay for that one.” Silverite smirked, saying, “We can prevent that from happening next time.”

Mog laughed, saying, “I bet someone is screaming over there, though.” She mocked, “Oh no, my cow! It’s beef jerky!”

Erick laughed.

Silverite’s eyes glowed silver as she said. “Continue until I say otherwise, Erick.”

Erick watched as a silver [Scry] eye drifted up into the sky.

Crystal mimic and sewer slime notifications came next.

Erick let the spell run for as long as his audience wanted. His audience mostly just watched. They watched him, watched the sky, watched the slime as it moved across buildings, up and down, into the sewers, everywhere it could reach.

Monsters died.

Five minutes later, Silverite said, “You can cut the spell, Erick. Killzone. Mog. Please escort Erick to Frontier, then to Kal’Duresh, then back home.”

Erick released the spell. The white orb flaked away again, just like it did the first time he used this spell, but everything else about it had been different. No noise. No entity reaching from the skies. No invitation granted.

Probably because the invitation had already been granted well before today.

- - - -

Erick had never been on the streets of Frontier. He had seen it from the sky, sure, but being on the ground in peace time was a much different experience than watching the city get overrun by a dark tide, while blooms of color tried to fight against the darkness.

Killzone had teleported both of them into the center of a large town square somewhere in the center of Frontier. The nice-enough looking square might have held tents and vendors at some point in time, but now it held people.

Humans!

Not a lot; maybe twenty humans, but Erick felt like he had forgotten what other humans looked like. There were brown people and white people and tan people. There was flowing cloth and tunics and armor and leather; stuff you’d wear around town, or to the job, or maybe to see something, or to be seen by others. Some had jewelry, others had fancy hair. There were a lot more hair colors than the black-blond-brown-red spectrum Erick was used to. That person had blue hair. That one had orange hair. That woman’s hair was bright, bright green.

Some of the people were looking at him, but most were looking at Killzone.

And there’s Helix, wearing nice clothes similar to Al’s, actually, now that Erick took the time to see; Helix also looked like a cross between a mobster and a sultan, but no turban.

Helix said, “We’re ready when you are, Archmage Flatt.”

Erick didn’t even have time to take it all in, before it was time to get to work.

“Alright. Here we go.”

[Domain of the Withering Slime].

The crowd gasped as thick air lifted off of every surface in sight, and the slime’s white core materialized around Erick. Notifications started pinging. Moments turned to a minute.

Erick said, “Lots of wolves. Up to… 40, so far. Still going up. It’s reached the mimics outside of town. It extends about 10 kilometers in every direction, so—”

You have Slain Daydropper A!

95% Participation!

+123 exp

Erick plucked the Daydropper box out of the air and held it out to Helix. “Uh. Here. Viscount.”

Killzone and Mog both got a look. Killzone frowned. Mog’s eyebrows went up. Helix frowned. The crowd murmured. Helix gestured with his fingers for Erick to pass him the notification. Erick did. Helix read it, then dismissed the box.

Helix smiled, saying, “Not a person. Just an anomaly.”

The crowd seemed to calm.

Four more Daydroppers popped. Each of them for 123 experience.

Erick said, “4 more of those, lots of mimics. Wolves are done. Let me just count… 70 wolves. Mimics are slowing. I can probably cut the spell now, if you wish?”

Helix said, “Thank you, Archmage. That will be enough.”

As white ash flaked into the sky, Erick counted up the totals. “75 wolves. 5 of those things. About… 55 mimics.”

A woman standing behind the Viscount stepped forward, holding onto a green stone. “Approved.”

Erick said, “In case of emergency you can telepathy… someone?” He looked to Killzone.

Killzone spoke with a little twang, “Y’all can send to Liquid, or me. We will respond appropriately, and timely.” Killzone put his hand on Erick’s shoulder. “Good day.”

Erick, Mog, and Killzone blipped away in a tiny crash of black light.

- - - -

They reappeared well outside of a large, walled city, built upon what had to be a minor mountain.

A white city wall encircled a great mage-castle town. White towers piled high across the raised city. Dark blue roofs stood out against the lighter blue sky; some roofs were domed, most were peaked. Buildings crowded up against each other, but in the center of it all was a grand castle, kinda lonesome, built around into itself, like the spiraling, spiked shell of a conch. Here and there among the whole of the city was the green of plant life, but in the center, on an upper part of the spiraling castle, was a massive tree that hugged much of the castle's upper reaches.

From Erick’s position on a sandy hill well outside of Kal’Duresh’s walls, that tree and the inner castle had to be hundreds of feet tall.

Everything seemed to glitter.

The whole place was easily twice the size of Spur.

Holy shit, Frontier was a hovel. Humans, what are you doing! Have you no pride?

Erick said, “This is amazing.”

Mog smirked, saying, “You’re the only human I know who could look at an incani stronghold and not fly into a violent rage.”

“That’s untrue.” Erick said, “You know Jane, too.”

Mog laughed. Killzone hummed.

Mog walked forward, saying, “We’re expected. Baroness Pirazel Xelxex may be a baron in title, but the power she commands in the Wasteland Kingdoms is much closer to that of a duchess.”

“Do these people hate the Script, too?”

Killzone said, “Nope. These are the powerful ones.”