Fluid - 33

The rest of the group didn’t hear the misleading revelation I inflicted on Hasusar. With him still standing silent on the hall’s threshold, I get back to them without anything said.

I catch Selene muttering about the size of the fancy hall when I come near, making it difficult to hold my laughter in, especially since some of her objections mirror my own.

“My aunt designed it to give precisely that fancy feel, Selene. I much prefer eating with smaller groups of people.”

“Where are we?” asks Georgius, trying to peer between the trees. “These woods seem very eerie.”

“The glades and bowers serve as rooms, so illusions block sight and sound between them; otherwise, you might have people peeking in on private moments,” I explain, and Georgius reluctantly nods.

The tour doesn’t take long since there isn’t a point in trying to walk them through kilometres of glades. Instead, I take them through a few places besides the hall, letting them see various-sized bowers and meadow streams, and demonstrate the living furnishings. Selene seems particularly taken with the shrubs that turn into chairs and the support they provide.

Eventually, most of the council departs, leaving me looking between Alfarr and Hasusar.

“Did you gentlemen need something?”

“Did you know Gail is part Celestial?” snaps Hasusar, his irritation directed at Alfarr.

Alfarr laughs. “I wondered why you looked out of sorts after you and Gail spoke. Her parents are good folks to keep on your side.”

Momentarily scrubbing at his chin stubble, Hasusar fixes me with a stern look. “So the elves know you’re part Celestial?”

“My nature is entirely what all the fuss is about,” I quip and get Hasusar to blink. “What did you think I am, some high noble or a queen?”

“That had crossed my mind given one of your Class name’s meaning in High Elven,” counters Hasusar with an exasperated sigh. “Now I understand the irritation you displayed the other night with Imhotep’s doings, and the guild—celestials and their kin aren't known for tolerating corruption in any form. Please remember that the Material Plane is not any heavenly plane; people aren’t perfect nor have the ideal sense of good that celestials possess. They assume what they consider good for themselves must be good for everyone.”

“I’ll try to avoid stampeding people in the direction I see they need to go to improve conditions. I appreciated you taking the time to explain mercantile trade the other night,” I say. “It’s clearer now than when I learnt the theory.”

Hasusar blinks and pauses before he replies. “Did you grow up on another Plane?”

Grinning at the disbelief in his gaze, I nod happily. “Yes. I’d prefer you be discrete about that, but the combat team I trained with were all celestials. The Human gods are helping with some situations, so I meet some of their servants, such as those following Hestia, Mars, Týr, and Lerina.”

“Why did you recommend Mechanus then?”

“I’ve friends that live there, and the guild needed unbiased processes, not a legal system seeking justice. That’s essential to ensure everyone will admit the rules aren’t favouring anyone, even if they don’t like them,” I explain.

“I thought even half-celestials had wings. How do you hide them?” protests Hasusar in confusion.

Gasping, I put a hand to my cheek. “Are you asking me to expose myself? How rude!”

“What? I-  How?”

Alfarr keeps a straight face and steers Hasusar to touch the silvery pane. When they disappear, I Teleport to my bower before my laughter breaks loose. It wasn’t even that Hasusar was wrong, since the few half-celestials I’ve met with angelic parents have wings. Just, with the rest of them, they were normal half-celestials and not Anar; I don’t fit into anyone's definition of normal. I’d settle for being peacefully accepted by more than just my family; remembering auntie Am’s joking remark about using Abby Normal as an alias gets me laughing.

Harp practice is usually calming, but I play musical themes at a giggling tempo throughout the afternoon. The effect has even the grimmest pieces sounding like drunk pixies are rolling along the strings. Two hours in, I’m split between concern that I’ll develop bad habits and enjoying the mood when Sarah stops in. This time she’s dressed in black leather pants, thick-soled boots that look painted on, and a red silk top that’s barely a band around her boobs.

Sarah prompts a shrub to form a long seat and quickly settles onto it. “Were you looking to have Hasusar’s brain explode?”

“What?”

“The Gods’ War wasn’t even thirty years ago, and you’re getting him worried because a half-Celestial is meddling with a no-name village,” reminds Sarah. “And you’re also looking to improve the Adventurers’ Guild, so he now has concerns that a religious issue will arise.”

“Is that really what he said?”

“He didn’t say it but he’s thinking it loud, and wondering what I am,” admits Sarah. “Not to mention your revelation has him considering why you called this place Sanctuary.”

“You shouldn’t hold someone’s thoughts against them, auntie Sarah. I’ll wait to see how Hasusar acts after he’s had time to consider the matter. As for Sanctuary, it was because of how awful the inn was with everyone crowded in. Once I set up the barracks here, I expected the adventurers who moved in to get a better sanctuary,” I explain, stilling the harp’s strings with the flat of my palm.

“Don’t stop for my sake,” urges Sarah.

“I’m distracted. You are right, I had far too much fun confusing Hasusar, which wasn’t entirely fair to him, given the primary source of my frustration was the Andúnë nobles,” I admit. “How do you think Ellother will work out? I’ll need to ask her about the classes she picked up.”

“I can tell you about them,” Sarah offers with a sly smile.

“Ellother’s not an enemy, so that would be rude. You and the others cautioned me about prying secrets out of the people close to me with Resonance. How is accepting information you’ve heard in their minds any different?”

Sarah's smile says it's not. “Just checking, though she’s hardly close to you. You’ve just hired her; monitoring her is sensible. Sounds like she was being trained to replace her father eventually, not just dinner time chats as Calinion mentioned.”

“Trust but verify. Though speaking of prying, I’ll need to pry into some things,” I offer, and quickly continue as she opens her mouth to ask. “I want to get some context on the Andúnë, not just what the representatives are happy to tell me.”

“Sensible. I don’t know what they’re like now either, and Yngvarr's perspective is as an insider. Alfarr passed a message after your tour: give Nikias and Myrto a week or more to settle after the morning’s levelling surge. He doesn’t think it would be healthy for them if something happened and they levelled again soon,” states Sarah.

“Nanoĸ had suggested a couple of weeks of training to balance the advancement of their skills with their levels. That would give me more time to do my prying then,” I say, biting my lip at the delay in progress.

“I’d offered those constructs, though you already have the apparatus in the Mechanus annex. Your discussion of the levels didn’t make clear how much automation was in that training level,” critiques Sarah, stretching out like she’s trying to challenge the chair to adjust.

“I’ve not been in the Mechanus level; I only heard its song. How is it?”

“Orderly and large, but you could eventually hit the limit if a hundred or so new adventurers show up—raised platforms hosting differing numbers of self-repairing training constructs the further along the rows you go. Step on to start, off to stop, and try not to go sprawling if it forces you off. Alfarr showed me after your brief tour,” Sarah explained. “The training basement annex feels nice.”

Given her personal history with Mechanus, I want to roll my eyes. “Nice and orderly?”

“Exactly.”

“Your appreciation of the annex aside, auntie, if you feel different constructs will be useful, it’s your decision if you want to make them. Are there sufficient training mechanisms for all the adventurers?”

My wording causes Sarah's nose to wrinkle, and her gaze lights up. “Perhaps not for long; more adventurers arrived this afternoon. They teleported in and entered the Beastlands annex, barely stopping to get any information.”

“Why the rush?”

“I heard them ask about certain herbs, but I’m no alchemist,” offers Sarah. “Maybe I’ll see if Alfarr will foot the materials bill for wooden training constructs; and no, if I’m making it as a guild possession, you’re not providing materials.”

“Not fair,” I object, and Sarah’s the one that gets to roll her eyes. “Since you’re stealing my fun, shall we speak to Ellother together?”

“Why not,” agrees Sarah.

I cheat and use the wards to speak into her room and bring her to us with her permission. Ellother’s latest lilac dress has a summery feel, the crests in silver embroidery bordering a white floral pattern. Spotting Sarah’s outfit causes her to stop with a greeting on her lips; recovering she gives me a polite smile but mischief light up her gaze. “Your majesty... I mean Gail.”

“Gideon,” I huff.

The single word provokes laughter from Sarah, and she waves a scolding finger at Ellother. “Just as well Gail gave you that starburst pendant, it will protect you physically and mentally. Make sure you wear it, it can’t easily be taken from you, but you can remove it.”

Ellother clasped the pendant through her dress and nodded earnestly, but it didn’t distract her. “Captain Arodion enquired about your meaningless title, but I said I’d not heard from you. Did you say the title was meaningless because you’re the only living Anar?”

“Anar laws state it only takes a majority vote, and I voted myself to hold the position of Queen, or King depending on my mood,” I admit and lift my hands helplessly.

“If you believe the title is meaningless, why did you contrive to gain it?” asks Ellother, her lop-sided smile highlighting her theme's relaxed and curious notes.

“It came with an excellent Class option,” I quip. “And that was important but not something I’ll go into right now.”

Sarah gives me a smug look. “A rank acquisition?”

“Your pun is a bit on the nose, auntie,” I critique, and Sarah grins evilly. “Before we get further afield about whatever secrets Gideon revealed, spill with your Class names. Sarah said you’d only taken one, but after I titled you as a representative, I heard your song gain more, and at least one had a combat aspect.”

“Arandurtá was the first one; I think its Royal Minister or Royal Servant. But after you addressed me as Representative Ellother, I got offered Rebel Commander, and it made sense to take others.”

“What are you rebelling against?”

“The stagnant ranks within the Andúnë realm,” admits Ellother.

“Your comment about positions held by vote wasn’t just an idle quip?”

“I and others think people shouldn’t hold positions for life if they’re just going to sit on their laurels,” said Ellother. “My father doesn’t share that view but look at Captain Arodion’s situation; he would have been held back forever because he lacks the right connections. Yet they were happy to jump him to Captain when they thought this would be a farce of an assignment.”

“Jokes on them, it seems,” snickers Sarah.

Ellother gives Sarah a concerned look, and I get in first. “I’m so going to steal him.”

“But I thought you didn’t want Elven troops around?” asks Ellother.

“My plans for him and any guards isn’t for anything local to the village,” I reply and smile at her concern turning to confusion. “I’ll explain later. Would you tell me about your Class vision before I discuss my plans?”

“There were shelves I’d never seen before,” started Ellother.

“What sort of shelves did you see?”

“A storehouse full of deep shelves that have grown far grander in the last day. When I’d gained Class options in the past, the shelving became lit, revealing hidden boxes or tokens. After agreeing to your employment, a new area opened up beyond what I’d previously seen with treasure gleaming under golden lights,” gushed Ellother.

“That’s quite different from others I’ve heard about, and also from what I’d expected of you,” I admit.

“While they begrudgingly granted our family a noble title, we’re foremost merchants,” replies Ellother. “Within the treasures on display, I found tokens that were offered for service to royalty. Among them, I picked Arandurtá—Royal Minister—focusing on increasing holdings. I wasn’t sure what else to take‌ initially.”

“Yet that changed after I addressed you as Representative Ellother?”

Ellother blushed and stilled herself after her hands had barely twitched towards her dress. “Indeed, another section opened, and I found myself offered classes I was sure would let me help you and achieve my desires. From what you said after speaking to Ingolmiel, it seems you share similar desires for the Andúnë realm. Rebel Leader was something I’d never heard of before; it felt like a diplomat, but one prepared to venture out into the wilds to gain allies to help achieve their goals. To support the other two classes, I took Royal Scout and Ennobled Merchant.”

“An interesting selection. What do you see the combination letting you excel at?”

“Pushing the boundaries of your holdings and dealing with those reluctant to break free from what they’ve known before, all those take management of funds,” admits Ellother, her gaze agleam with excitement. “Tell me what you want to do with Sanctuary, and I’ll do everything I can to see it done.”

“What I want to do is both simple and, from what I’ve learnt already, potentially quite complex,” I admit, and Ellother leans forwards eagerly. “I want to improve good people’s lives in a way that lets them continue to grow even if my involvement stops.”

“Is that why you didn’t offer to create mithril like Maition hinted last night?”

“Exactly, but that is my general long-term goal, so if you’re in doubt about something, ask yourself if you’ll be improving things or causing long-term issues. Also, I’ll need a self-sustaining household setup within the Demi-Plane, so if someone comes calling, I don’t have to be on hand to ensure they’re fed,” I state. “In the meantime, your first step will be to set up staff, organise the materials trade from Sanctuary, and then move on to helping improve the Adventurers’ Guild.”

Ellother brow gains the slightest of wrinkles for a moment. “Improve things in what way?”

Smiling at her nearly flawless composure, I stick with my general guideline. “I want to improve the guild by strengthening the adventurers and reducing corruption and waste. The adventurers aren’t a replacement for armies but can significantly help a location if they’re strong enough.”

“I’ll introduce you to Midyåci, and you can discuss legal codes and rules with her,” offers Sarah. “I told Ellother about Sanctuary’s annexes this morning.”

“Now, with the trade of items, I don’t want to flood the local markets as we won’t get the best coin. So, for our share of what comes out of the Beastlands’ Annex, I’ll introduce you to the auction house at Duskstone.”

Sarah snorts at my pronouncement. “You’re going to take Ellother to the Elemental Plane of Earth?”

“It will shorten an auction house trip into an hour or two instead of needing half a day from the Stoneheart entrance,” I point out and get a nod from Sarah. “This isn’t something we’ll be doing for anyone else until I’ve got a better understanding of the local economies. I don’t want people driving up food prices, or the locals out of business.”

“Understandable,” murmurs Ellother, and her fingers twitch against the fabric of her dress. “Might I ask a question?”

Making a note of the tick, I nod. “You can always ask, if I answer is another matter.”

“You said your mother is a Solar. What species is your father?”

Sarah laughs. “Did someone else hear Hasusar’s brain explode?”

“What?” gasps Ellother.

“I said something, and Hasusar assumed I meant my father is Celestial. I had meant to explain that I’m not a pure-blooded Taurë which he’d assumed. Though my father isn’t even elven, let's leave it at that for now.”

“As you wish,”

“I use a Taurë form as it was the first elven form from this world that my mother taught me to take. A pair of Taurë celestials aided my auntie Am in the past, but I’m not sure if that was mother’s reason for choosing it,” I explain before standing. “Shall we go to Duskstone, or do you need to tend to anything else first?”

“I’m ready whenever you are, Gail,” insists Ellother.

Taking out a pair of metal oyster shells, I clip one to the front of my belt before turning my back to Ellother, yet I still warn her. “These are very bright, so be careful not to shine them in anyone’s face if you want them to see.”

Opening the latch, the magical light within turns the bower’s twilight into bright daylight. Closing it again, I pass the second to a blinking Ellother. “It will be pitch black in the tunnels until we get inside the security gate at Duskstone. Will you come with us, aunt Sarah?”

“It depends on how accurate your Gate is,” offers Sarah.

The Gate opens within a darkened tunnel illuminated only by light spilling across the threshold. It could have been anywhere from the looks of it, but the familiar tune of Duskstone’s wards and the plane itself confirmed I’d opened it precisely where I’d intended.

“We’re a bit beyond ballistae range, so we’ll be safe,” I state. “Ellother, be careful that the shell’s opening stays directed at the ground, and close it once we’re inside the security door.”

The passage to the dwarven community thrums with a solid martial theme. Enduring stonework and soldiers alike sound much the same as every visit, and atop the wall was the siege weaponry, with crews in place. There isn’t any tension within the mechanisms’ theme, but I’ve seen them load and fire in three racing heartbeats. The teams get so excited when they get to fire their toys—it's like wild horses galloping inside them.

We get let in through a secondary corridor to the right of the main gate—barely wide enough for a single dwarf to pass through. Though the guard on duty does the usual grumping, he settles down when I show the ward stone issued by the High Crafter of Moradin’s Hall. After that, getting through the security corridor beside the main gate goes without a hitch. Its second steel door lets us into a staging yard that, at twenty-five metres long, sixteen metres tall and wide, could swallow a large chunk of the Guildhall.

Having led the way, Ellother’s gasp causes me to spin about, and I see her staring wide-eyed at the chamber. Not seeing anything surprising, I consider the space from her eyes. Like many other things, my long familiarity with it has likely skewed my perspective.

To the left is a steel portcullis that blocks the passage through the main gate, but that isn’t what has her attention. Two mechanical crawlers occupy a significant portion of the yard’s available space. A big rectangular box of metal and stone—some fifteen metres long—overgrown with bladed ridges and propelled by jagged wheels. Like many dwarven devices for mining and exploration, they’re practical things.

The axles connect to a drive shaft powered by a Mana engine barely bigger than me at the box’s front end. Its compact size lets it serve as a seat for the drivers, leaving plenty of space for the weapon crew, passengers, and cargo. The back flap of the closest one is open, showing the inner shell of flawless mithril.

“They’re just crawlers,” I say, still not seeing why they deserve her wide-eyed amazement. “We need to talk to the sergeant and priestess on the duty desk.”

Waving towards the stone desk captures Ellother’s attention. Though more to the point, it's the two heavily armoured dwarves behind the desk that get her attention. Clad nearly head to toe in metal plates, their open-faced visors allow their beards to spill out. Their different styling lets me tell the sergeant is male and the priestess female. Though I’ve not heard his song before, the priestess I’ve met at Moradin’s hall several times over the years I’ve visited.

The duty desk is across the yard from us, alongside the concealed gate that looks like a solid stone wall. Whenever they open the inner gate, a hidden mechanism lifts it on metal pistons, the likes of which I’ve seen nowhere else.

When we get close, I smile at the pair tending the desk but don’t get to speak.

“I’ve not seen you for a few months now, Gail. Seeing you is a surprise, especially since your mother came through alone a few hours ago. What world is this Elf from?” Natsal asks suspiciously, her focus clearly on Ellother’s skin.

“Vehtë. Ellother, I’d like to introduce you to Natsal, Priestess of Moradin, a daughter of Clan Stonevoice. Natsal, this is Ellother, a daughter of House Roquentar.”

I keep a straight face at Ellother’s look of disbelief; she doesn’t know to look for the style of braids in Natsal’s beard.

“I thought you had better taste than associating with an Andúnë, Gail,” huffs Natsal, and she glares at Ellother. “You best not be here to give orders, or you’ll wish we slammed the gate in your face.”

Ellother straightened. “I’m in Gailneth's employment as her steward. I might have some purchases and arrangements to make at some point, yet the way you say order, I take it buying supplies isn’t what you mean.”

Natsal’s eyebrows climb at the explanation. “One of you lot in service to a Taurë? I have to say that’s a first for the sages’ records.”

“Gail has strongly suggested we Andúnë must make amends for our past insults. However, I know little about the limited interactions between our people. Would you be kind enough to suggest who I might speak to learn what occurred?” asks Ellother, her voice barely audible over the pair’s armour plates shifting position.

“You don’t know-”

“I know your armies saved us from the last of the dragons after the ships made landfall. That we signed a treaty that granted us the right to use certain lands but not delve into the earth except past a north river that we no longer hold,” states Ellother. “I even know what trade goods they favour in various seasons on the northern and southern routes, but I don’t know the source of the ill will between us.”

Natsal looks ready to say more, so I interject. “There was a Taurë who you spoke to while on gate nearly two score years ago. Did you treat her properly, Priestess Natsal?”

“I apologised,” protests Natsal, nervously tugging at a silver token braided into her beard.

“You did indeed. After the High Crafter told you where you’d gone wrong, and put you on double shifts,” I correct.

My comment causes Natsal’s jaw to snap shut, and she clears her throat. “Perhaps the High Crafter might be the best person to speak to about this matter.”

With that, she signals to open the gate, and the ground thrums.

“We’ve not asked them about goods being carried,” reminds the sergeant.

“Raw materials from a Dragon Turtle: shell, bone, ligament, and meat. I’m taking them to the Gildenshield auction house. As usual, I’ll arrange for any necessary taxes to be paid through Master Dunlan Gildenshield.”

The sergeant nods and jots down notes in the angular dwarven script, already dismissing us now his duty is done.