Fluid - 18

As I cross the shop’s dimensional threshold, I catch Yngvarr's song so his presence doesn’t startle me.

When I pretend not to understand Nikias’ meaningful nod, Yngvarr clears his throat to get my attention. “Has Esdras shown you a location?”

“He has a nicely detailed map, and since the price was so low, I’ve purchased it. I was just about to go there and ensure it's suitable for the construction I'm considering or if I need to adjust my plans.”

Yngvarr gives a satisfied nod. “Might I accompany you?”

“I was going to shift us out there,” I advise, aware I can’t just run over his magical strength.

“That’s fine. I trust your abilities.”

Saving my physical energy for True Song, I use Greater Teleport for the group.

We arrive precisely where I’d intended upon the wholly deserted road. I can see the cliff’s edge curving away from the road at the top of the rise. The route continues straight, following a well-tended line of trees to our right. Their presence is a windbreak for the fields of crops and pastures beyond.

The closest house is an odd compound, another couple of kilometres away or more away beyond the trees. The family’s two-story dwelling is on one corner of a square, with a barn anchoring the other corner. With buildings’ walls forming the parts of the square’s sides, a stone fence fills in the gaps. Across the aged stone, scars show the wall has weathered attacks in the past.

While patches of rock were visible to the road's left before the rise, it quickly became bare stone after it levelled out. Since the ground is level with the road, the rock isn't from the wind having stripped the topsoil away. The bare rock raced ocean wards, creating a bulge intruding towards its territory.

Waiting until Myrto regains her composure from the Teleport, I turn to address Yngvarr. “Were you using my situation as a political move?”

The amused smile that appears matches the lightness of his vibes. “I was, but not one against you. Before the meeting, I’d learned enough that Imhotep as Guild Master was a bad idea. Is this a matter you wish to discuss in front of Myrto and Nikias?”

“Yes. They were at the meeting, and we’ve already discussed some matters at Zosime’s,” I confirm, and he shrugs.

“If you’d been worried about staying in the guild, I’ll admit I would have been more active and worked to smooth things out. You said that remaining a guild member didn’t bother you. Have you changed your mind about that?” asks Yngvarr, his lack of concern showing he doesn’t expect a change in circumstance.

“No,” I admit. “Though Androkles indicted they do more for the communities than I had expected, so I’ll still render them some help. What reasons did you have for booting him?”

“Alright, there are some factors to my decision. What your aunt discussed with me about the ideal Adventurers’ Guild isn’t what it's become. It was never to become involved in governing one kingdom, let alone two. We’ve too few individuals trained in proper leadership or administration. Instead, we’ve ended up with powerful adventurers considering retirement getting positions. Sometimes it works, but often there are problems to clean up,” admits Yngvarr.

“If it's a problem, why does it keep happening?”

“Because it doesn’t cause the same problems in the eight other kingdoms, or six if you want to consider The Republic as one rather than three. The guild’s council has ten members plus the Grand Master, but only two representatives are from the former kingdoms of Crete and Egypt.”

“You’ve seen evidence it's treated as a local problem?”

“Not every Guild Master causes problems, so treating them as an isolated issue is easier.

I’ve spoken to a number that knew they were out of their depth. They hired former seneschals and other individuals trained in estate management to handle the day-to-day operations,” explains Yngvarr.

“Are you saying they’re much the same rulership that decent local lords provide in other places? Find someone capable of doing general work so they can relax?” I ask and catch the edge in my voice. “Aunt Am strongly believes that a ruler is in a position of service, not one of entitlement.”

Yngvarr smiles at the description. “They should at least focus on what needs their attention and use their authority to set the right precedents. But not all lords were like that; some were, and are, far worse than Imhotep.”

Aware we’re still in sight of the village wall, I walk onwards, and the others fan out beside me.

“Imhotep, for all his good points as an adventurer, focuses too much on controlling what he sees as his jurisdiction. But the adventuring mindset isn’t going for an administration, as conflict is what draws his attention, so subtle problems can slip by unnoticed until they blow up,” explains Yngvarr.

“Or until a wild card comes in and doesn’t toe the line?” I ask, getting an amused chuckle. “But how are people dying a subtle matter?”

“Gail, most experienced adventurers will have witnessed too many team members or people they’ve met along the way die through one cause or another. Death becomes a constant companion, and turning themselves off is too easy. You see them as people dying. I can tell you Imhotep sees them as just a line on a report.”

“Is that what he told you?”

Yngvarr’s lips twisted in disgust. “I asked about the team, and his reply was they get the jobs done; what does it matter?”

“It ‌matters,” I say. “How many have they lost getting these jobs done?”

“That’s not something I want to tell you,” Yngvarr says softly, and I hold Resonance away from him.

“Why?”

“Because you had nothing to do with their deaths, and-”

His cautious tone has me rolling my eyes as I cut in. “Please, I’m not aunt Am. I don't believe I'm to blame for things being wrong when I wasn’t present or aware of the situation. I’m trying to understand the situation in the village better.”

“Sixteen.”

“I knew they’d lost a number in the last three years but not that many,” says Myrto.

The number hits like a punch to the guts, even knowing most were old deaths. “Wow, that’s disturbing. Were most adventurers from outside the village?”

Yngvarr takes it in stride. “From the reports I checked, none were local, so it’s hardly surprising you didn’t know.”

“I still don’t see how this would be okay,” I say and shake my head to clear aunt Am’s voice.

“From his perspective it's an unfortunate, but not unexpected, cost of getting the jobs done. Other Teams will come through here and never return, only losing one every couple of moons.”

“I still think it's suspect,” I say. ‘If it's something so normal, I’m sure Androkles wouldn’t have commented on it.”

“I agree it’s suspect because the team's core has been together the whole time. None of the reports mentions the survivors have suffered significant injuries, despite repeatedly being in life-and-death fights that have claimed team members,” says Yngvarr, his tone bitter at the pronouncement. “If you’re serious about the guild keeping the crystal, I’ll check them out with it.”

“Are you the Guild Master now?” asks Nikias.

“Goodness no. Thankfully, that idea would sink faster than a Dwarf taking a swim in full armour,” exclaims Yngvarr.

“Moradin’s nice! No Dwarf jokes,” I scold, and at his raised eyebrows, I stare until he apologises. “So why didn’t you object to me taking the planar effects away from guild control?”

“Your aunt envisaged the guild as an organisation to keep adventurers out of the control of despots; instead, it's in danger of putting a despot in place. They don’t need to be enabled further, especially given Imhotep’s example.”

“Well, time to get working on the Guildhall situation.”

“How much land did you get?” asks Nikias.

“From the start of the solid bare rock to the far end,” I reply and point to the walled compound beyond the fields. “Myrto or Nikias, do you know the family over there?”

“It's not that big a village, Gail,” laughs Myrto. “Everyone knows everyone.”

“Should I talk to them personally before I put up a place?”

“I can go talk to them, Gail. They’re regulars at Hestia’s Temple,” offers Myrto. “They’ll likely be fine but they can be standoffish, even with the regular merchants.”

“Even with some villagers,” corrects Nikias, and he scoffs. “Their fields are close enough to have a house inside the village walls; instead, they maintain a compound. Always have, and according to them, always will.”

Myrto looks ready to say something sharp but stops and directs her attention to me. “Should I talk to them?”

“I’d prefer an introduction,” I admit, and continue when I catch Myrto’s restrained frown. “Yet judging by your reaction, I’ll leave it to you. Can you ask them if a paved road down the hill would help during winter?”

Myrto laughs at my question, and it takes away the sharp tones she hadn’t unleashed on Nikias. “Should I tell them you have delicate feet?”

“How did you guess?”

The question earns another lighter laugh from Myrto, and she heads for the road leading through the field.

“What do you plan to do with this much land?” asks Yngvarr.

I can’t resist the urge to tease. “I could put up a Wizard’s tower for someone. Though listening to the ground here, I’ll need to work on the cliff first. I can hear the cracks all along its face; some extend a fair distance, so I might want to seal them off.”

“They’d only come back,” Yngvarr cautions.

“Not once I’m done. If I build something, it's going to stay built and not fall into the sea,” I declare, lifting my chin in a defiant pose at Yngvarr's immediate chuckle.

“There is a sea cave at the cliff’s base that’s good for gathering after really high tides,” mentioned Nikias.

“Thank you. I think there are at least two, though there are some odd echoes,” I say. Setting off along the road, I set a mark in the stone every five metres to double-check the distances.

I’m sure there is a second cave two-thirds of the way along the cliff, but it's underwater while the other is clear. Nikias look at me curiously when I linger overly long, my gaze fixed on its path far underground.

“There is another cave, but it's far below the cliff base. It’s filled with water and leads into a web of passages even deeper down. Lots of fish, shellfish, and plant life. I’ll harden the walls to stop erosion, but I won’t seal the entrance. Who knows if that would harm the inhabitants?” I explain and smile at him. “I appreciate you letting me know about the other cave; it prompted me to look further. Wouldn’t have been good if I’d just created a solid column under the site.”

Worlds are so different to my planar home—so much more to consider. Taking out my notes on the Guildhall’s music, I start to work out changes and catch Yngvarr staring at them again.

“Questions, Yngvarr?”

“What language is that? There are individual symbols I recognise but never learnt the meaning of,” admits Yngvarr.

“It's not a language; it's True Song musical notation. Aunt Am says it reminds her of atomic symbols. The central core determines the focus note, but the details of the rings and the dots' position show the energy modulations and what energies to use with them. The various accents around the outside provide further context.”

“Is True Song just for Anar?” Nikias asks, but unlike Yngvarr, he’s monitoring the surrounding area.

Nikias' question causes Yngvarr’s attention to snap to him.

“Where did you hear that name?” asks Yngvarr, his tone a near whisper

“It was part of Gideon’s message. Should I not mention even the Anar?” asks Nikias, his tone apologetic, but he directed the question to me, not Yngvarr.

“To answer your question in order, Nikias,” I reply before Yngvarr has a chance. “There is also the Lómë, and they have their variation. Best to keep everything in his note related to me a secret, including my rank.”

“He knows?” asks Yngvarr.

“Sorry,” murmurs Nikias.

“You might want to cut back on your use of that word. Yngvarr is one of the few people within the kingdoms that knows my situation,” I say and, holding my palm out, I sing. The motes gather atop my hand, forming a rawhide cord and a silvery amulet fashioned of a perfect circle. Once it’s done, I toss it to Nikias, who almost fumbles the catch.

“Who do I give this to?” asks Nikias, looping the cord around his fingers.

“That's yours, Nikias. It's an amulet of mind shielding. It should stop anyone from reading your thoughts with magic or psionics.”

“Should?”

“Yeah, only should, but it's better than nothing. My amulets still can’t keep out my aunt and a few psionic masters I’m friends with,” I admit with a shrug.

“It’s lacking runes,” notes Yngvarr.

“Silly chicken scratching,” I tease.

“Wizard runes are based on the oldest known form of draconic writing,” protests Yngvarr.

His offended tone sets me laughing. “Technically, they’re Artificer runes, and enough said—you just proved my point. How long before one of the elven courts appears on my doorstep?”

“If you're lucky, a few weeks,” answers Yngvarr hesitantly.

“And if I’m not?”

Yngvarr shrugs. “Tomorrow or the day after, though technically, I should have already informed my King.”

“You needed to do that years ago. Did the messenger pixie get sidetracked?”

“Notoriously unreliable. Better to trust a Brownie, they’ve got a better attention span,” jokes Yngvarr.

“Right, let me get this done, or we’ll be here until sunset.”

“That’s still a way off,” Nikias supplies.

“Exactly.”

The pair let me work until Myrto’s return, and by then, I’ve got the structure of the music’s architecture complete. Sealing the cracks had been one way, but the life in the underwater tunnels drew my attention to nesting birds, and my approach had shifted from a full foundation to a solid enduring plate.

“As long as none of those fools come on our land, we ain’t got nothing to say about it,” quotes Myrto when I look up at her arrival.

“It took a little while to get that decision from them,” observes Yngvarr, glancing at the lengthening shadows.

“We spoke of other things first,” replies Myrto, giving Yngvarr a puzzled look.

“Life in a Human town corrupted him too much—rush, rush, no time to stop and chat,” I explain, poking my tongue out at Yngvarr.

“That’s rich coming from you. You’ve already rebuilt a cove, and created two temples yet you’re still looking to do this tonight,” ripostes Yngvarr, and only Resonance lets me hear the catch of old pain in his tone.

“Sorry if I touched a nerve,” I offer, unsure whose insults I came close to echoing. I refrain from listening harder. “I’ve got too much energy to sit still. I know this. My father would make me run through the trees to calm down.”

Yngvarr stops and gives me a nod of both acknowledgment and his unspoken apology.

“You seem calm,” observes Myrto.

“Like a duck on a pond,” I reply and start running through vocalising the music when I get blank looks. I run through the song once with only the audible pieces, and when I start it from the top, I add Power to the mix.

The ground pulses beneath our feet, not to shake us off but rather conveying a sense of eternal steadiness that settles in our bones. As I sing, the rough surface from the cliff’s edge to the road smooths out, and the song sets it permanently level to keep the buildings upright. The energy keeps clear of the caves and the bird nests as I start towards the first crescendo.

The buildings don’t come into existence atop the stone. Instead, like a whale breaching the ocean’s surface, they flow out apparently whole. Fluted cooling towers to drink in the ocean breeze and supply the residents with clean drinking water and ice are the first to emerge. The crowned towers attuned to gather energy from stone, ocean, and wind rise next, keyed against the approach of malice and spite.

Only then does the main building appear, in an architecture not seen in an age or two, if not more. Though, it's not an exact likeness—instead of True Song Crystal, reinforced stone and glass must suffice.

Arched entryways, vaulted rooms, lofty balconies, and delicate climbing staircases formed in a sensible steel-grey hue. Panes of glass I release from inventory become laced with the resilience of steel. Their glittering movements hide another crystal shard to hold the wards and reinforce the towers’ enchantments. Three separate songs swirl through it while the panes turn lazily in the ocean breeze.

The lot waft through the air to take their place in pivot frames, their flurry of movement disguising the crystal as just another decorative piece above an upper window. Shutters of ebony and bannisters of the same are the penultimate touches before the doors of alchemical bronze and steel emerge.

None of the stonework has the Human-preferred straight lines or the sturdiness of dwarven workings. It all appears alive and grown, like ocean coral given a home on land. The curvations are deceptive in their delicacy, built with honeycomb structures capable of supporting far more than it would appear.

“What?” I protest. “I wanted something I consider beautiful, even if it isn’t crystal.”

“It is beautiful,” murmurs Myrto. “Strange but beautiful, almost like I expect it to sway in the breeze; it draws the eye.”

Concern about their shocked expression fades away with Myrto’s assessment.

“Forget a few weeks, the first Elf that sees an image of that will come running,” mutters Yngvarr

“I thought you were doing a single building, not ten. What are the towers with sunflowers atop them?” asks Nikias.

“The six that look like flowers are defences to keep the place safe when I’m not around. They drink in the energy around them and turn it into spells to deal with anyone of malicious intent that approaches. The other three towers are for turning the sea breeze into drinking water and even some ice slabs if the wind is strong enough. I learnt how to do that without enchantments from some desert elves, although these improve on their concepts.”

“How do the towers determine malicious intent?” asks Yngvarr.

“Enchantments, of course,” I gasp playfully and continue without properly explaining the detection songs. “No crystals in the towers‌, just stone and traces of silver. The towers will first try hitting malicious intruders with spells hard enough to shove them away, but if they persist through escalating attacks, it will try to mist them. They’re set up to add the energy of incoming spells to their reserves.”

“Mist them?” asks Nikias, his eyebrows lifting in confusion.

“It will try to turn them into a bloody mist.”

“Might be a touch excessive,” states Yngvarr. “What’s their range?”

“Tell that to the farmers who have a roof damaged by a Wyvern’s claws and tail,” I counter and motion to the compound. “As for their range, the edge of the property.”

His question prompts a thought, and I sing two simple songs quickly. A stone honeycomb fence grows to head height along the property’s edge, signs appearing on each side of the open gate. Their purpose is simple: they’ll impress the conditions I told Yngvarr upon any intelligent being seeing them.

“I didn’t know things were that wild this way,” admits Yngvarr, once I’ve stopped again. “There wasn’t a job about hunting wyverns close to town.”

Glancing at the setting sun, I bite my lip and try to figure out how long the next stage will take. I set the consideration aside when I feel fatigue sip at my focus despite Protean’s endeavours.

“I’ll do the planar energy move after reverie,” I state. “Without the towers, I likely could have done it today, but it seemed silly to have an unsecured building sitting here.”

Nikias motions with an excited twitch of his hand. “Can we have a look inside?”

“Of course.”

Guessing he doesn’t intend to race ahead, I quickly move towards the front door, accompanied by the trio. Nikias' curiosity at the door’s formation grows the closer we get to them, and he almost jumps in surprise when their steel petals iris open.

Inside shouldn’t hold too many surprises—I'd modelled the placement and size of the rooms after the Guildhall to make the energy move more manageable. I doubt they’ll find it too exciting, however, the texture of the walls and their engineering are fairly exotic.

Myrto makes a puzzled noise while looking inside the ‘job’ room. “You furnished it as well?”

“The basics, in a Human style,” I concede. “I’ll keep the village carpenter busy for a few years between Hestia’s Temple, Zosime’s house, and here.”

Nikias restrains his curiosity and lets me lead the way around at a steady pace. Still, I’m more than ready to sit down when we've completed the tour.

When I sit down in my copy of the job room, Nikias tilts his head, listening intently. “I can hear trickling water somewhere.”

“A pipe from the condensation tower at this end goes beneath this room to a reservoir tank at the far end. Enchantments in the bathroom will draw from the reservoir.”

“You enchanted the bathroom as well?” asks Yngvarr, studying the wall with his Mana Sense. “Is that why you seem more worn than with Lerina’s Temple?”

“The day’s adding up, but it needed a few simple comforts,” I offer with a yawn. “I best get back to Zosime’s, or I’ll want to nap here.”

“Might I stay to study the buildings?” asks Yngvarr, his bright gaze the only sign of excitement amongst his composed exterior.

“Make yourself at home. Just remember to tell hubby. Did you want to live here or in a separate building?”

“Perhaps a separate one. I doubt there will be much quiet in here. That’s fine for young adventurers, but we older ones like our comforts when resting,” replies Yngvarr.

“Well, I still have space, so I’ll get to that in the next few days,” I say, and he smiles in appreciation. “You’ll have to endure for now. Got something to assist you, so don’t resist, okay?”

When he nods, I use a short melody to link the buildings to him. Yngvarr twitches his attunement to the towers’ accumulating energies and detection effects but takes it in stride.

“The wards, towers, and doors are now also keyed to you. Though you won’t be the only one able to influence them, I’ll do that for the guardian or guardians I arrange.”

“What are you intending?” asks Yngvarr. “How long will these last?”

“I’ll hire a few independent sword archons or astral devas,” I reply. “With all the good it can do both the village and the area‌ I’m sure I can find some open to help ensure it stays in excellent hands. As for how long they’ll last? Well, when its only stone involved, a few thousand years? Which is nothing compared to the longevity of buildings using crystal.”

Myrto blinks at me slowly. “The casualness of your statement does my mind in. How does a Mortal hire a Celestial being?”

Her surprise makes me remember my promise about revelations. “Sorry, we’re still on the same day as well. Hiring celestials can vary, but the most common method is an agreement upon summoning and providing magical items. They use them directly to improve their ability to oppose evil or give them to non-associated mortals favoured by their deities or who respect their tenets. Another option is they’ll ask you to take on tasks for them that benefit the ideals or faith they serve. You should talk to Priestess Irene about it.”

“What sort of items?” whispers Myrto.

“It depends on the duties they’re expected to perform. I’ll create some weapons, armour, and potions to give them some options,” I reply, and when Myrto’s befuddled expression doesn’t clear, I hold up my hands. “How about I get you back to your Lady’s Temple and you can get some rest yourself?”

“I think that would be wise,” murmurs Myrto.

Yngvarr looks at me gravely, but I spot a gleam of amusement in his gaze. “I think you broke her.”

“I did not!” I protest. “She was doing well; the day’s events caught up with her, that’s all.”

Yngvarr shakes his head in concern. “I remember feeling broken, Gail. It can also happen without blood-filled events; you’ve had her introduced to her goddess, helped her gain classes far beyond most, and created wonders before her eyes. Perhaps go easier for a few days and focus on training your team.”

Myrto's theme stuttered and wobbled, but it didn't break. Still, some care goes a long way.

“That’s the plan.”

With that, I Teleport us away.

I leave Myrto at the Temple’s quarters with a hug and a plate of comfort food to share before I shift to Zosime’s backyard.