Ar'Kendrithyst

Valok and Apogough walked up to the temple, then up the stairs.

Erick smiled to see them approach, saying, “Hey guys. How’s the farm been?”

Apogough started the pleasantries with, “It’s going—”

“Fantastic.” Valok launched into anger, saying, “But that asshole is trying to ruin everything. You need to never speak to him again. He is a shadowspider. He will twist your words to put you under his power. He’s been talking to our people; putting the fear of gods into their hearts, trying to make them give up on this life we’re building.”

Erick smiled softly, saying, “He backed off, though I doubt that’s the last we’ll see of him.”

Valok frowned. “Yes. Especially after you threatened a permanent [Gate].”

Apogough scrunched his face in thought, as he asked, “Can you do actually that?”

Erick shrugged. “I don’t know. Never thought to try. Never been a need and I didn’t even know if it was possible.” Erick asked, “… is it possible?”

Valok said, “Possible, though not likely.”

Apogough said, “There used to be permanent [Gate]s between the Old Dragonkin cities in the forests north of the Wyrmridge Mountains. They hail from the first years after the Sundering, before the destruction of all halves. People have tried to get them and bring them back to civilization, but they’re hundred ton metal structures; the most anyone has ever gotten is images of them, and images of all the wyrms defending them.”

“Really? I pulled that out of my ass, but they actually exist?” Erick laughed, then asked, “Maybe I should go get one? Try to remake it?”

Apogough said, “That’s walking yourself to the executioner’s block.” He looked down the road to Spur, but Caradogh and his flankers were already long gone. “Worse than that whole exchange was asking for the same.”

Erick grumbled, then groaned out, “Assassins.”

Valok joined them looking down the road to Spur, and said, “Maybe. It’s… really hard to tell. I’ve been coming to Spur for every Water Season for the last twenty years. I’ve been on the Farmer’s Council for fifteen. There’s always been some friction getting our goods to market. But it’s never been this bad. They like us dependent. Independence scares them.”

Apogough said, “A trade embargo would be bad.”

Poi stepped into the conversation, saying, “Silverite has been watching this unfold. She would like me to inform the Farmer’s Council, and you, sir, that whatever this business with Caradogh was, Spur is prepared to weather the storm and come out smelling like money. There will be no changes to any farming practices.”

Valok smiled, saying, “Good.” He nodded to Erick, before stepping down the stairs of the temple. “Back to work then. Good to see you, Erick.”

Apogough lingered in the temple, saying, “I heard about Odaali.” He added, “Tough business, that. Glad you stopped the Breach Demon.”

Erick looked out over the fields, glancing at the incani here and there. He asked, “I’m worried I won’t be seen as neutral. Have you heard anything?”

“There’s been some grumbling, sure. But there’s also a lot of relief. There’s hatred here, sure, but no one here really wants a war. Trade is getting big, and that means that a war is a huge interruption.” Apogough asked, “Want me to let you know if that changes?”

“Yes, please.” Erick said, “Oh. And what do you feed the chickens and cows? There’s a feed grain that I was thinking of creating for them that might be good. People would love it, too. It’s easier to store and harvest than wheat or rice.”

“Feed grain?” Apogough hummed, then said, “Chickens eat pretty much everything. Bugs. Greens. If you want to make a feed grain, then I won’t stop you. Not sure how much good it’ll do. There’s no shortage of food anywhere, Erick, for the animals or for us, and that’s all thanks to you.” Apogough said, “But I gotta go. Glad to see that guy didn’t ruffle you. Take care.”

Erick said, “Later.”

The tall orcol walked away, under [Weather Ward]s, back down to the fields while platinum rain fell all around.

After being alone with Poi for a minute, Erick turned to his guard, asking, “Assassins?”

Poi stared out into the rainy distance, lines of [Telepathy] flickering out of his head, saying, “We’ll keep our eyes open, as always.”

Erick said, “Thank you for looking out for me, Poi.”

“It is my honor, sir.”

- - - -

Ophiel flew high above the clouds, wings unfurled all the way, catching the easterly wind like it was a river in the sky, and he was the fastest fish in the ocean. He raced over cloud peaks, while the sandy land far, far below seemed to move at a standstill.

A caress of control fluttered through his body. He trilled out the sounds of a hundred violins before vanishing in a blip of white. Erick needed him! Time to work.

- - - -

Erick smiled as Ophiel appeared in the center of the Harvest Temple, wings unfurled and singing a song of strings, a dozen new eyes flickering open across his body to take in his surroundings.

Erick said, “You’re taking over the rain. You can get back to flying around later.”

Ophiel trilled. Erick flowed [Exalted Storm Aura] through Ophiel, briefly filling the sky with two silver storms, before he cut off his own aura.

Erick asked, “Do you want to stay in here, or float above the temple?”

Ophiel made a quizzical trill, but nothing else.

Erick wasn’t sure Ophiel was learning, or not, but Erick wanted him to do the job right, so Erick said, “You can stay inside.”

Ophiel gave another uncomprehending trill.

Erick just said, “Okay. Good boy. See you later.”

Erick left Ophiel in the temple to rain on the farms. Originally, he had planned on sticking around and creating the rain himself, but the confrontation with Caradogh reminded him: He had skills to level and HP to spend, and a mighty need for a wand of [Rejuvenation] to speed up the process. He needed to be prepared for the unknown future…

The mostly unknown future.

Assassins were pretty much assured, now. It’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you!

- - - -

Erick walked down to the end of Market Street, to shop at a store near the wall, where most of the light came not from above, but from lightwards of all colors and shapes, plastered over every shoppe entrance. Ulrick’s Unusual’s was the same, nice little shoppe as it was the last time Erick was here. Through the window, Erick saw counters of enchanted knives and shelves full of wands and rods. The door chimed as he swung it open, and strode inside.

Ulrick’s pinkscale cashier, Soux, smiled from behind her counter, saying, “Greetings, Archmage Flatt.”

“Hello, Soux.” Erick was the only one in the store right now. He asked, “I need a wand of [Rejuvenation].”

“Certainly. Just one?”

“I’ll take four. They’re a hundred gold apiece, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.”

Erick took out his Mage Guild badge, which doubled as his bank account authentication, and said, “Four then. Thanks.” He asked, “Is Ulrick in right now?”

Soux pulled out a box from below the counter. She counted out four wands, as she said, “Not right now. He’s at the Mage Guild.”

“That’s fine. Can you tell him I said hello?”

“Of course, sir.”

- - - -

Erick had another task today, before he could go back home.

The Adventure’s District was as packed as it usually was, though it seemed larger than before. Buildings seemed taller, and that’s because they probably were. Construction happened on the third and fourth floors of buildings on both sides of the street. Some people shaped the stone up there to make the walls and the staircases and everything else, while others stood on the streets, near carts laden with raw, orange stone. The people by the carts floated the raw stone to workers waiting above, [Stoneshape] doing just as much work as the people using the spell.

Erick smiled at the new construction as he made his way to the Guildhouse.

In the center of the Adventurer’s District laid the wilderness log house mansion that was the Guildhouse. It was situated between four towering trees, each with four meter-wide trunks and canopies that tangled into a green cloud that cast almost all of the district into a cool shadow.

Erick crossed the threshold from the roads to the Guildhouse property. Cool forest air caressed his body, tangling through his loose clothes; he had passed the threshold of some unknown [Ward] created by the four pillar trees. He liked this part of the city. The guildhouse itself stood open, like always; yellow light spilling out from open doorways and the windows. If there weren’t so many people around, the effect would have reminded Erick of a scary cabin in the woods, but with all the armored and robed and strong looking adventurers loitering around or drinking or hanging out, the space felt boisterous, and happy.

Erick walked right in.

Within moments, he was seated with Guildmaster Mog at a table on the third floor, with a leather folder open in front of him, and dossiers spilled out over the table. Erick looked the papers over, while Mog waited. They were monster reports, and each one of them came with a last known location map, and an image of the monster. This one was about a red snake with white feathered wings. That one was about a rocky looking thing. That one was—

Mog pointed to the report of a seven-headed black hydra, saying, “This one is the most dangerous monster. It kills anyone it sees, and leaves kilometers of poison in its wake. A Toxic Hydra. No one knows what the beast is doing this far out of the Wasteland Kingdoms. What’s worse, is that no one knows how it was able to survive this long in the dry air around here. It’s been two weeks since the initial sighting, and the monster only looks to be getting stronger.”

Erick looked over the papers. There were twenty one monsters here. Mog had gathered the reports of every monster that no one but an archmage would be able to safely kill.

Erick’s eyes caught on the description under the red flying snake, called a ‘Flare Couatl’. He read it again, to make sure he read it right, then looked up at Mog, asking, “It helps adventurers by killing hunters? What’s a hunter, again?”

“Hunters are those who kill other adventurers. Either for gear or gold, though most start down this path because of experience gains. For a level 10 to kill a level 60 person, even with just 1% Participation means level 45, right there.” Mog frowned, saying, “I had to deal with a whole group of Hunters last month. Seven executions, all in all. Zago told me she had four of them, just last week. It’s getting worse, now that Spur is getting better.”

Erick felt an indistinct pain, as he said, “That’s awful.”

“I’m not sending you after Hunters.”

Erick smiled softly, saying, “Thank you. But… I was more ashamed that people would want to get levels by killing other people. But that's just how it is, isn't it?” He asked, “There’s no way to force 0% Participation, is there? Like how Silverite forces 1% for human and incani around here?”

Mog smiled, then said, “You can do that by taking a monster into seclusion and healing it before you kill it completely. If you do this enough, you’ll drop the participation of other people in the fight to 0. Phagar doesn’t like that, though, so you have to have a good rapport with the god before you attempt such a thing.” Mog shook her head, saying, “Other than that? No. Can’t force people to automatically get 0% participation, and especially not in an assassin scenario.”

“Ah. Well. Okay.”

Erick read the report for the Flare Couatl again. The monster had been responsible for interrupting three verified hunting attempts in the last two weeks. Attached to the monster report were the individual reports of the three teams saved by the monster, as well as speculative reports on the nature of the beast.

Erick asked, “How did a Flare Couatl get it into its mind to help people, like this?”

Mog frowned deeply, saying, “The going theory is that it could have been some Beast Master’s pet, but no one really knows. I’d hate to put it down because it’s obviously a variant couatl and raised with great care, but the master is nowhere to be found, and the beast is going to go insane, sooner or later.” She poked at the Toxic Hydra’s information, saying, “This one and that one showed up at the same time, about two weeks ago. The Toxic Hydra might have killed the master. Least that’s the theory. That hydra is already incredibly vicious, so it tracks. I’ve looked into the theory on my end, but no one seems to know a Beast Master who had either of these monsters. So this ‘Beast Master’ theory doesn’t seem to hold much weight. At least not right now.”

“The Flare Couatl is obviously still a good beast. Right? Can some other Beast Master take the couatl?”

Mog smiled sadly, saying, “A Beast Master imbues a control ring onto a monster’s rad while they’re young. This control ring allowed the Beast Master to alter the monster’s tendencies into something productive. But make no mistake, Erick. They’re still monsters. Once they get loose from their old masters, they must be put down. Control rings are unique to each Beast Master. No one else can control another Master’s beast.”

Erick frowned at the images of the Flare Couatl and the Toxic Hydra, saying, “I guess… I understand.” He began packing away the dossiers, saying, “I’ll let you know what happens.”

Mog smiled, saying, “Thank you, Erick.”

Erick said, “Anytime.”

Erick did not rush to leave, but he was also done. And Mog hadn’t flirted with him; not once. He was all prepared to return her flirts, but the expected interaction never happened.

Erick left the Adventurer’s Guildhouse, feeling slightly down.

- - - -

On the way back home, Erick stopped to pick up lunch from ‘Meat! Bread! Cheese!’ Jane really did love the place, and it was growing on Erick. The place itself was growing, too. The husband and wife team of Rendar Skytouch and Julli Skytouch had needed to expand the business a week ago, to take advantage of the increased popularity of Spur, and the addition of fries to their menu. Erick felt that they pulled off their expansion quite well. Huge new glass plates separated a grilling station with three different cooks from the people waiting for their meals, while huge vats of hot oil simmered with [Heat Ward]s, already bubbling with fries held in metal baskets.

Noon was minutes away, so the place was starting to get packed. But the sit-down area of the restaurant wouldn’t get full until after the farmers came off of the farm; a lot of places were like that these days. People had started to plan accordingly. Erick stood in line with people who were not farmers, but likely merchants or adventurers, based on their clean business-like clothing, or their armor and leathers.

When it was Erick’s turn to order, Julli Skytouch, the bluescale wife half of the husband and wife team, who also manned the register, instantly joked, “Shouldn’t you be raining out there?”

Erick smiled. “I got it covered.”

“What’ll you be wantin’ today?”

“Seven sandwiches, two baskets of fries.”

Julli smiled. “That’s what I like about you. Always buying for other people. 1 gold, 2 silver.”

Erick paid her two gold, saying, “No change.” He asked, “How are you liking the fries? Have you tried out the method I told you about, yet?”

Julli took Erick’s gold as she smiled, saying, “Yes. It works well. Fry them once, freeze for the next day. Fry again. Crispy fries!” She smiled, “Thank you, Archmage. People love these fries in a way I don’t really understand.”

“That’s easy to explain!” Erick said, “Everything tastes better fried.”

Rendar, husband to Julli and co-owner of the establishment, and currently cooking up a storm of meats on the grill, called out over the glass divider, “Everything tastes better fried!”

Erick smiled.