Beneath the Dragoneye Moons: Moonfall, page 21
Fortunately, he was the second.
“Food! Food is one of our great needs, and as such, the government subsidizes it. Everything you see laid out on the tables is free! Simply take it and go. We do ask that you finish everything you eat, as wasting a great need…” Himben simply shook his horned head sadly at the thought. Iona grabbed some sizzling meat skewers - there wasn’t a chef or person near the table, but clearly some ‘hot foot stays hot’ aura was going on, along with a related ‘cold food stays cold’ - and handed some of them to me. It felt weird to just… walk up to a table and take something, but I quickly got used to it.
The skewers were divine, and we started to graze on basically anything we saw, sampling the fine delicacies the elven [Chefs] made for everyone.
“I’m going to get so fat.” I said as I licked my paper plate clean. Both because every drop was ambrosia just a hair short of mango, and because I was feeling a little self-conscious about how much I was eating, and wanted to demonstrate that I was not wasting at all. I held my paper plate out in front of me, and still doubting how well it worked, let it drop.
It vanished.
There wasn’t a single trash can in Ithil, nor was there a single piece of trash on the roads. A number of the auras simply handled the problem, and it boggled my mind. Just… how!?
Another set of auras I wanted to try were the ‘mastery’ auras. Anything I did, anything I tried, I’d just be that much better at. What made the aura utterly disgusting was the ‘mastery’ persisted. I tried to carve a chair? The skill would help me out in subtle ways, and when I tried to next make a chair, while I’d be missing the nudge, I would still have the muscle memory and experience from last time.
“Race you.” Iona half-groaned as she licked her fingers clean. “I think Auri will explode before then.”
I eyed the round featherball on my shoulder, occasionally making pitiful brrpts. Too many cupcakes. I poked at her with my finger.
“You know, I’m sure there’s a few [Bakers] who could bring themselves to teach a mythical phoenix… I bet you can extract all their secrets in an afternoon.”
Himben looked horrified at my suggestion, and Auri started to burn brightly, rapidly returning to perfect phoenix form. She’d object to the phrasing of course. Every form was a perfect phoenix form according to her.
“Brrpt? Brrrpt?” Auri asked.
“Yes, I’m sure. Go! Have fun! I’m surprised you didn’t remember saying that’s what you wanted to do. We’re going to meet at Fenrir when we’re all done, and librarians tend to get nervous around living fire next to all the books.
Muttering darkly about ‘unfair discrimination’ and baking techniques, Auri fluttered off down the road. Iona leaned in.
“Do you think she knows where she’s going?” She stage-whispered to me at Himben’s facepalm.
“Actually, for once, yes. She’s got quite the nose for bakeries.”
Himben continued to give us the tour. Walls of flowers eternally blooming into gorgeous murals, statues on every other corner, gardens filled with swaying trees and buzzing bees, and a half-dozen projects that were going to take a long time to complete.
“Can I try the highest level of roads?” Iona asked, pointing up at the fine threads between buildings.
I could practically see a crisis going on in Himben’s brain. On one hand, his guide inclinations wanted to say yes, absolutely, right this way. It was at war with his pride, which said that naturally only elves were graceful enough to pull it off. Iona was built like a brick shithouse.
“There are a few strands that are considered the ‘testing’ strands for those who believe they have mastered the skills and the stats needed to traverse the highest levels of roads.” Himben finally figured out a compromise. “Perhaps try one of those first?”
Iona did, then laughed with delight as she sprinted across the fine threads in the city, hundreds of feet above the ground. It looked like a ton of fun and I ended up joining her, before finally settling down to what I’d actually come here to see.
The library.
Tympestshard made little distinction between ‘library’ and ‘museum’, the two buildings being the same thing to them. It made sense. Both were dealing with ‘history’, and given the age of the books, a [Curator’s] skills overlapping, yeah, sure, I could see it.
The buildings were unspeakably grand and majestic, like everything else in Ithil. Part of me idly noted that I hadn’t seen any hint of a city-wide circle yet, which made me think it either didn’t exist, or was so large I couldn’t see it. We went inside and my jaw dropped.
Books. Books upon books upon tightly packed books. I’d been in big libraries before - Sanguino’s was pretty nice - but like everything else, the elves one-upped everyone else hard. A book bound with starlight, a book forged in flames. One had pages woven of spider’s silk, and another glimmered with gems. A book made out of crystalline slates, and one that absorbed all light.
There were mundane books, of course, by the wagonload, spiraling ever up on packed shelves. A sphinx looked to be one of the [Curators], and it simply got odder from there.
I whimpered, and Iona patted my arm.
“I don’t think we’ll be able to get her out of here.” She joked to Himben. I nodded my agreement.
“Crowbars at a minimum.” I let my senses expand, let [The World Around Me] unravel to its greatest size, and split my mind into 18 different parallel thought processes, each one of them devoted to the endless books. A fraction of a single thought process was still dedicated to Iona and the arm I was leaning on, letting her steer me around while I greedily absorbed all the knowledge and stories that existed. Whispering Winds, The Last Emer, Mist of the Vale, The Silver Horn, Ironwood Heart… the titles went on and on, some repeats, some new.
I let my skills rip, reading everything as quickly but thoroughly as I could, my mind whirring and racing with excitement as I went through so many stories and tales.
Normally I had to limit myself somewhat. Normally. What was the point in reading everything in Sanguino in a month? Then I wouldn’t have anything else to read.
Here though, in Ithil? My time was limited, the books were vast, and it was only my good moral character that stopped me from simply yoinking a small fraction of the collection into [Repository of the Magus].
There wasn’t enough room in the skill for all the books.
I made a sad mental note that when shit hit the fan, if there was a moment of stability and not needing to be saving as many lives as possible, that I should see how many books I could rescue. It was unlikely that I'd get the chance. Then I went right back to reading.
Iona gently steered me to a floor where the elves were putting on a new exhibit, a collection of books and artifacts from the Remus period. I slowly detached myself from the books, finishing up each one and getting a little misty-eyed at one tragic twist in the end.
If only he’d waited another month, no, another week! They all would’ve lived happily ever after! Whyyyyy.
My attention snapped to the present, a plaque in two dozen languages helping explain things.
These artifacts were found by the adventurer group The Drunken Dwarves following a Pekari tunnel. They encountered an ancient buried <
Damn. Remus was so old that they were raiding ancient museums to get items. That explained how they found so many in a ‘cache’... and why did it have to be adventurers!?
I started to look over the artifacts with bittersweet feelings. A faded Remus standard with the familiar eagle, a moth-eaten tunic, a collection of arrowheads. The coins with a triangular hole in the middle, marble busts and mosaics, frescoes and jewelry. Spoons!
Then scrolls. Tons and tons of familiar scrolls and tablets, and I idly read their contents as I passed, feeling strange.
The elves were infuriatingly right again. They had gotten artifacts from the first Remus Empire, and even some from the Remus Republic! It was like my childhood had been packaged up, oxidized, and placed in a museum. It was so weird. I grew up wearing a shirt like that, the belt was familiar. The ‘can you believe this was the wagon they used!?’ was admittedly cheap, but invoked nostalgic memories of the Argo.
A number of scrolls had also been recovered, and I came to a screeching halt at one of them, reading it over, double and triple checking the contents. Running it against other things I knew, only getting a ‘maybe’. Still, a maybe was enough. I knew the elves were perfectionists, and extracting anything from them would be a challenge. Himben was the wrong person to ask, but I figured I’d start with him, and let him pull his weight as the diplomatic interface.
“I’ll pay three million arcs for that scroll.” I pointed to one that started off with a number of remarks from endless translators and scribes throughout the ages. Each complaint and remark was faithfully transcribed and transcribed, with other people adding their own comments to the comments. Honestly, it was practically a study in language and the evolution of copying in and of itself!
They shared similar sentiments.
Why are we transcribing this?
It’s a direct first person account of the time.
The person had no historical impact at all.
It was the life of a normal person.
She was part of a wealthy family, but she didn’t even have intelligent thoughts into the family members that might matter.
It’s good practice.
On and on the complaints went, students and apprentices being given the scroll to copy as a warmup. Numerous typos and misspellings had clearly made its way into the scroll, only to be faithfully copied over.
That one, I blamed on skills. It was really easy to have a copying spell, it was harder to intelligently analyze what was going on.
Iona raised an eyebrow - the amount was far past the ‘we discuss it before we spend this much’ limit. I flashed her a few hand signs, apologizing and transmitting my urgency.
Brisk negotiations occurred, and I eventually had to not only pay more, but show them the prayer my parents had lovingly stitched for me - another genuine Remus artifact, but “fresh” and almost entirely preserved. Thank Iona and her silver tongue I didn’t need to sit for endless interviews, although I suspected I was about to get a lot more visitors knocking on my door.
Damnit.
With tears in my eyes I accepted the journal and promptly stored it forever more in [Repository of the Magus]
I didn't know for sure. Maybe I was deluding myself. Probably was, with the billions of people over the years. If I was - I was happy to accept it, and believe in my illusion.
I had the diary of my niece.
Diary day one.
Grandma Julia got me this diary to write in. I don’t know what I write. What should go in? Does this actually help? Dad seems to think so. Senator Themis. Might be worth recording that? Maybe?
Oh no, I’m being called. Maybe writing in here will get me out of chores. After all grandma did want me to write here, so it’s a good excuse right? Let me talk about the mango bowl…
Chapter eighteen
Happy Birthday!
Sixty Two years after the events at the Phoenix Peaks.
I took a deep breath in, enjoying the myriad smells of life and mango. From the floral blooms to the loamy soil, the ripe mangoes to the morning dew, to sappy resin and freshly cut grass, my orchard was my happy place. My peaceful place. I’d cleared a small area in the center just for me, with a few benches to sit on.
I hadn’t let the looming threat of war stop me from living and enjoying life, and I was proud of myself for it. My decades-long project to create a grove of mango trees just for me had paid off, and the place was serene and beautiful. A place I could always go, no matter how bad of a day I’d had. The sun was on my face, there was a light breeze as a few fluffy white clouds passed overhead, and everything was simply perfect.
What day it was helped.
A trio of happy-screaming System-locked kids sprinted through the central area, playing ‘monster’. One of them was chasing the other two, and honestly, I thought they learned how to split up when running away as toddlers. The two zipped past me, but the ‘monster’ skidded to a halt and paled at me. He did his best kid impression of a bow.
“Prima Elaine! I’m so sorry, we didn’t know you were here. We…” He trailed off and flushed. I cracked open an eye and an indulgent smile, and flapped my hand at him.
“I’m pretty sure monsters don’t have manners that good. Plus, they’re getting away.” I said.
It took the kid a moment to realize what I was saying, and with a throaty ‘RAWR!’ and his hands curled up into claws, went chasing after his friends.
I smiled indulgently. Ah, kids. They weren’t usually allowed up here, and credit to their parents - they’d been pretty clear about where they were and weren’t allowed to go, and proper manners. Made me kinda wish I could be a godmother again or something. Someone who could see kids for a few hours, then return them home when I was done.
I held out my hand and [Teleported] my staff from where I’d leaned it on a fence to rest, almost a hundred feet away. I stood up, stretched, and started to slowly go through the meditative motions I’d learned at the Jakhong Monastery, all while keeping track of the kids hunting through my orchard through [The World Around Me].
I was halfway through my set when one of them, in the throes of trying to escape being eaten by the monster, looked like they were about to run into one of the low-hanging flowering branches. There would be a lot of crying on their end, and the branches would be ruined.
I [Teleported] all three of them out of the grove, having enough magic power to enforce my will on low-vitality children, and repositioned them such that the two ‘chased’ kids would be running back towards the villa, assuming the ‘monster’ ran right at them. Instead, they looked around, marveling and speculating on what just happened. I smiled and whipped up a quick spell to project my voice.
“Don’t monsters chase people?” I asked the three of them. Distractible kids they were, the monster started chasing the other two, and I settled back to finish my routine.
“Hey Elaine, everything’s ready here. Come on over when you want.” Iona said deep inside the villa, speaking at a normal volume. My ears perked up at that, and after looting all but three - errr, make that two - mangos for tomorrow, I skipped on over to the party.
It was our birthday! Iona and I had settled on ‘trading’ birthdays where one of us spoiled the other rotten - it just worked best for us - and I’d called dibs on the big 100. Iona had been completely fine with it - she’d gotten the 64th and was also the one getting the 128th, which I didn’t mind at all. She tended to have very specific ideas about what she wanted, and so did I, which made our system entirely harmonious.
I’d wanted it to be a small, intimate gathering of my friends.
I didn’t realize how many of those I’d gotten until I was staring at the pile of invitations.
Iona needed no invitation, but I made sure to include Titania and Skye. They helped run the household, but the invitation, to me, was symbolic that I considered them friends, and wanted them there as themselves, not as some of the people helping out.
Auri’s invitation was made out of a burning cake, clever enchantments on the icing making burning words, spelling out my request for her attendance.
She’d insisted on making me the best cake ever, and I wasn’t going to gainsay her.
Iona and I had giggled madly as we made a mystery for Fenrir, which in theory was going to culminate with him dropping in on the party. The invitation was the present, in many ways.
“Aren’t we worried about, you know, side quests?” I asked Iona. She chuckled.
“If he does fall into a side quest, he’ll have an even better time, and root out some problem. Isn’t that the best gift we could give him?”
She had a point.
Nina and Amber naturally made the list, along with Night and Susan. The semi-retired Katerina was sadly unable to attend, currently enjoying a much-needed vacation on the sunny shores of northern Exterreri.
Nina’s squire-turned-Valkyrie couldn’t make it, and Iona was endlessly pleased that the wheel had turned, as she was more of Iona’s mind on how to best operate. Iona had decided she wasn’t taking on [Squires] anymore. The wound from Nina’s ‘betrayal’ had long ago scarred over, and the two were on great terms - but the hurt echoed.
One burned, twice shy, and I didn’t blame Iona for not wanting to go through it again.
Night and Arachne were both going to be in attendance, which included their personal Sentinel teams. Event security basically - the sun was out, they were vampires, etc. etc. Frankly, I was touched that they were even willing to take the risk, as miniscule as it was.
Artemis and Julius had both been pried out of the School and were in attendance, along with one of Artemis’s favorite ‘gophers’.
“Because I’ve gotten too lazy to do things for myself.” Was her stated reason. I was pretty sure she was just soft on the student, and wanted to make connections and good experiences for her.
I was a little disappointed that I’d gotten Vitus fired from the School. Next on my ‘ways to fuck with Vitus’ had been to teleport out every single screw and nail from his office. Everything should remain standing until he touched it, at which point it would’ve all fallen apart.
Speaking of fucks - I was too old to give a fuck about any sort of group drama that could result from my invitations - and people not invited. All of the War Sentinels except for Calamity got an invite. We didn’t get along personally, and barely got along professionally. More than I expected accepted the offer, a few declined, citing work. A number of Sentinels I’d made friends with over the years, including Devour, Terminus, Springsteel and Skater, were in attendance, as was Atlas and his wife. Nix had retired - RETIRED, he was just a little kid the other day, how could he have retired already!? - to Ortus village, the rapidly growing community at the base of the mountain. Bless the original settlers, they’d made it clear which direction the community needed to expand in. Both Nix and Hasta were invited, along with a dozen other friends I’d made over the years.
