For the Record

“YOU MADE A WHAT!?”

Yeah, so Abaris is surprised again, but as usual it just turns into him ranting about impossibilities again.

So I just let him rant.

From what I actually bother to catch, a homunculus is apparently an artificial human, powered by mana. Kind of like a golem, I guess? Except they act as a soul receptacle.

Meanwhile, this priest has no idea who he is – apparently whatever I made his soul from didn’t have an ego, so he’s about as confused as I was in the beginning.

However... he does apparently know a great deal about the proper practices for worshipping me.

I mean, Astraea. The proper practices for worshipping Astraea.

The party mage is still talking up a storm, but I’m pretty sure most of this could just as easily be a technical document I could pretend to read later, so I interrupt him.

“Alright, that’s all very interesting. Write it down and I’ll look at it later, alright?”

For some reason, Olive smiles at that, but I’m not done. I turn to the kneeling homunculus.

“You don’t have a name, correct?”

He immediately throws himself to the ground before me. “Yes, my lady! I know of nothing and no one but you!”

I flatly stare at him. “Your first task is to choose a name; you are the first of my cult to be resurrected or recruited, and I will not be reduced to calling a subordinate ‘you there’.”

The false human starts shaking.

A sigh escapes me, scattering ash about the temple I’d just spent so much time cleaning. He’s terrified.

“Fine. I see you are incapable of this task.”

He starts shaking harder and presses even further against the ground. “P-please forgive me, my lady! I know of no names but your own!”

“By the gods, Astraea... just how much did you stunt your people? You know what, never mind.” I turn to Olive. “You were alive during those times. I’m tasking you with naming this shell of a person. Do bear in mind that you represent me in this task.”

The fox spirit’s tails all fluff up with pride. “This one will fulfill the role given by her majesty!”

She promptly dashes forward to crouch in front of him, lifting him by the shoulders enough that she can look him over.

Pearl looks horrified and extremely out of place as usual.

I turn to meet her gaze.

This has been a problem for some time, and I guess there’s no time like right now to resolve it.

So I project only to her. If you are dissatisfied with your role, I will speak to the headmaster on your behalf as to whether you may be liberated from it. You need not answer now; simply think on the topic.

Her eyes widen, but after a moment she slowly nods. Good.

But then a thought crosses my mind.

“Wait. You’re a priest, right? Do you actually know any healing spells?”

The homunculus strains against Olive’s grip to prostrate again, and when he fails he simply directs his face down before answering. “My lady, I deeply apologize, but I only retain knowledge of your worship.”

I can't help but smile. And then I turn to Pearl.

“I believe I have a much more satisfying role for you than watching me rebuild my plane. Would you be willing to train my clergy in what it means to be a healer?”

A worried look flashes across her face, so I continue in an attempt to ease her concerns.

“I will not require you to abandon Lady Epione, nor will I demand anything that would bring your loyalty into question. It’s simply my opinion that a priest should be a priest. And yes, I understand the irony of me saying that when my own Class is a priest variant that lacks most traditional Skills or abilities.”

The priestess tilts her head in confusion. “Wait. You just want me to teach him spells?”

“Yes.”

...

“That’s it?” She looks even more confused now.

“Yes, that’s it. Although...”

She sighs. “I knew it, here’s the catch.”

“Oh you poor fool,” I chuckle. “No. There is no catch to my previous request. I was simply going to add that I have not yet had my reintroduction to the pantheons, nor have I met any of their present number. I was simply going to suggest that if she spoke to you in the future and were you so inclined, you could choose to pass on my interest in a conversation – perhaps over tea at the keep at Moonside, if Vivianne is amenable to it.”

I’ll have to ask the centipede monster later, considering she’s not present, but considering I’m literally resurrecting the cult of Astraea I have a feeling she’ll come around.

“You... you want to meet her?”

I create an instant ash chair – this time much more ornate than usual, because why on all the planes would I choose to sit on a simple thing made of sticks and planks? – and I take a seat, while maintaining eye contact.

My death knights and even Olive promptly kneel.

Because of course they do.

And I continue. “If she was interested, yes. I would, of course, permit the presence of her choice of honor guard. After all, I am an as-yet unknown quantity. It would only be fair to offer her that level of security. A great many of the dark pantheon would likely seize such an opportunity to target her Vessel, yes?”

The priestess nods.

“I thought so.”

I turn to Olive. “Have you chosen a name yet?”

“Hmm, hmm,” the fox spirit hums. “Her mistress did once possess one Reynfred.”

“Done and done,” I say. “Your name is Reynfred. Now go forth and proclaim my glory while maintaining the temple of Darkwell with my blessing.”

Ah, he finally managed to break free from Olive and prostrate himself again. “Yes, my lady! I shall make it so!”

The homunculus stands and bows deeply before frantically running to stand behind the altar and... stand behind the altar.

I don’t know what I expected. We’re already in the temple after all, I’d called the others here.

***

“Clarence.”

“Milet.”

“Gilford.”

“Randall.”

I’ve spent the last two weeks funneling mana into making more like Reynfred in different towns. So far it looks like they’re all male adjacent, and all lack memories of anything but me on their creation.

At this point my cult is around one hundred and thirty strong, although I can’t help but wonder if them lacking the freedom to choose to worship will have any unpredictable consequences or side effects.

Well, whatever. It’ll be fine.

And then I feel a tingle in the back of my mind. Some of my kin just died.

“Arm yourselves, we’ve got something to investigate,” I say to my party as I rise to my feet. I’ve made a habit of making my throne room wherever I stand, and those of my retinue have adapted admirably.

I guess I should fill them in a bit though.

“Yeah, you definitely should. You deliberately made Abaris the leader, but you keep taking command,” Nyx jabs.

I sigh. “I was just thinking that I should fill you in. That’s what she was replying to.”

Nyx sighs back.

“Anyway. Some of my kin are under attack, and I’m not sure what by, so I’d like to go take a look. Is that agreeable, leader?” I pointedly direct to the mage.

Abaris nods. “It would be wise for us to investigate threats, yes.”

“And there we are. Olive, would you please?”

I feel my attendant’s glee at being relied upon as she flicks her tails, and we vanish from my most recently restored temple in a burst of blue flames.

***

We arrive at a scene of mild chaos – mild entirely because there was only one resident in this town, now at sword point.

I step toward the melee while rapidly moving my kin away from the four assailants to form a loose perimeter.

My homunculus priest turns and prostrates himself toward me, completely ignoring the blade that promptly pierces his back as he does so.

And I bury its holder and their accomplices with the heaviest of my Auras that I can muster – both Aura of the Unwound and my unknown Aura of Majesty.

“I require an explanation, and you are going to provide it.” I take another step toward the spiky-armored human. “NOW.”

The weight of my presence is apparently too much for this weakling as they immediately loose their bodily waste.

Disgusting creatures, a waste of mercy and of souls! I should just wipe them all out, every single one!

My death knights flank the poor fool, weapons drawn and leveled – Izahne at its throat and Omorth at its heart. I can’t help but be pleased at how efficiently they've learned to coordinate.

I drift lightly into the air just enough to glide and scatter a cloud of ash around me for dramatic effect. “Are you truly so weak-minded and weak-willed that you lack the ability to speak?”

A sharp prod from Will Surge causes them to release a loud wheeze before falling over backwards in a heap.

“Useless!” I snarl at the heap of squirming flesh, wrapping it in feelers and jerking it up to my eye level. “YOU WOULD INVADE MY HOME AND REFUSE MY WILL?”

And then I feel it.

The familiar prickle of a knife in my back.

I can’t help but sigh.