Chapter: 724 Bonus - Cavalcade at the Peak (Patreon)

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Anatalis shifted uncomfortably at the growing feeling of… change in the south.

The sway of reality was creeping outward from a new node of power, breaking apart the remnants of the old in a highly unpleasant manner.

Unfortunately, he would be severely weakened in such a domain. He could go in there to lance the boil, allowing in the ordered magic to suppress the tendrils of chaos before they grew too strong to overcome, but he’d be vulnerable, and—more importantly—his pack would be laid bare while he acted.

He couldn’t do that. It would set them back by millennia.

Vidarra crooned through their connection, and he huffed out a rueful chuckle.

It was true, if he needed to, the Pack would pay the price.

After all, in the balance of order vs. chaos, a surprisingly little chaos could overcome a horrifyingly weighty amount of order.

They could not allow this pestilence to spread.

Thankfully, the two-legged things were cleaning up their own mess. That was better for all involved.

He laid his head down against a subtle curve and sighed long and deep.

The Pack would have a part to play before the end, but that time was not yet. All the players had yet to be revealed to the world at large, and until they had been, his teeth would remain behind his lips.

Soon, though.

Soon, I will taste cervid blood worthy of my time.

*

Vidarra reveled in the closeness of her Alpha, her focus on their sirelings as much as the happenings in the south.

The near-pack would be tested in the coming days, and if things went as expected, her wolf would get his long-anticipated hunt.

She knew of the theories of dead and living magic, and it was as reasonable a way to consider things as many others.

She and her Anatalis preferred the framework of order and chaos, however. Not that such was in conflict with the other. After all, there was unchanging order among the dead, and it was most often the living that brought about chaos.

Still, she knew that what grew to the south was an antithesis to her in virtually every way.

The Pack was almost ready.

The Great White North had been good to her children, and while one daughter had fallen to a psuedo-dragon—a creature that Vidarra had found and sent Anatalis to defeat and drag back for her consumption—the other four of their cubs had done it, claiming dominions and throwing down all who contested their claim.

The Pack was now irrevocably anchored, their foundations unshakable.

True, those powerful pups could not leave their places of power for long, but if the Pack went on a true hunt?

Vidarra’s hills shivered with anticipation at the blood of their enemies that would be shed. The upcoming conflict might even finally force the unwilling ascendant forward.

The very idea was tantalizing.

She was even more interested in the outcome of the current struggles due to her newly arisen sister and adopted niece.

A time of consideration passed as she watched the world around her Pack, and Vidarra made up her mind. She would push Anatalis to get involved earlier than might otherwise be wise.

After all, shouldn’t one go the extra mile for family? Was that not the very idea that she and her wolf had built their existences upon?

*

Death… did not care about the state of magic in the world in the least.

Nor did it care about war one way or another.

After all, war did not change the number of people destined to die.

Still, there was a chance that the growing oddity might burst open the segregations of its myriad horde.

That would be of interest, but it was too unlikely to draw true notice, leaving the being to continue a dreamless, restful slumber.

*

Dauphin the Enduring sighed in relief as the silly lessers swarmed across the conflict, panicking about the results of their own folly.

He wasn’t uncaring of the results, but his interest was almost entirely academic.

Regardless of how the world settled, he would endure.

After all, that’s what he did.

That’s who he was.

*

The Arcane King was growing irritated. Someone was messing with the balance of magic that he’d enforced for eons uncounted.

They were poking at his domain, but it was in such a way that neither took power from him nor allowed him to act against them.

Still, the change… itched.

He glared toward the silly, troublesome island that already held too many powers. He’d tried to check on his wayward herd and found his attention dissuaded.

Now this?

He did not like change, and something was on the verge of changing. He could feel it.

Fix your issues, little island, or I’ll fix them for you.

It would weaken him to try intervening, but if he simply struck the place from the map?

Yes… if this itching continued or grew too troublesome he’d cut the irritant out… or force the change to finish?

Now that he considered it, he didn’t really care which, he just wanted the slow change to end.

It has been long, since I drew power from that form… it might just be interesting to return to the old ways.

He would have to ponder before making his decision.

There was much to consider.

*

The Hollow Queen was unbothered by the shifts upon Zeme.

Her uncounted mirrors were all filled with a single, all important subject, and that was unlikely to change anytime soon.

*

Ra'Drathadaxor was growing irritated with the little things skittering about on the edges of the Doman-Imithe. If the paths they’d initially forged were at least slightly convenient, he’d have snuffed them ages ago.

Now, though? They weren’t making anything new, not anything of use. They were wise to keep each traversal brief, but they were numerous enough that he was beginning to think it worth putting a stop to the practice for an age or two.

Still, he stayed his claw.

At the moment, they were creating a shortcut for those who knew how to use it. So long as it didn’t expand too much, there shouldn’t be need for him to intervene.

After all, he didn’t take action, he took advantage.

Eyes beyond human understanding surveyed all nearby existence, waiting.

An opportunity would come from this. He knew it from scale to bone, horde to fire.

He would watch and wait and be ready.

*

Mansa the Gold looked up toward the surface, again.

If this kept up, he might have to do as he forbade himself uncounted centuries ago.

After all, a reality dasgannach would give him peace…

He turned his attention back to what lay before him. No… the time for that had not yet come.

He didn’t even notice that his thinking had shifted from ‘not ever’ to ‘not yet.’ But at that shift, those who had any sense of things to come quailed at new, dark potentials.

*

Krol the Conqueror’s body didn’t change, nor did the chains—real, magical, or void—alter.

And they never would… unless something changed the balance.

Bless the stars that no one would be foolish enough to allow such to happen.

*

Reine of the Deep seriously considered just drowning the land for their annoyance.

Still, such an act would undoubtedly mean war and other such inconveniences…

He would permit the fools their squabble.

The ocean cared not for the shifting of mere mountains.

*

The Mountain Lords watched the gathering of forces to assault the Black Legion.

Eskau Tala had been an interesting guest, and they had not expected her to trigger a long-promised boon.

It had been ages since they’d permitted outsiders to see the magic-engines, and they’d not planned on changing that.

Still, the interests of their people lay in a clear direction. They would watch and not interfere, even if the players behind the scenes were revealed.

Even so, as they watched, something tugged at their perception. Existence seemed more… present than usual, and that was of interest.

Their stance wouldn’t change, but it was possible—just barely possible—that they’d have more than passing interest in the victor.

*

Mirza Far Sight had never been more excited to see what would happen next.

The pile of cheesy little caravans beside her made the spectacle all the more enjoyable. No one needs this many. I’m sure they won’t be missed.

*

Padishah of the Plains was surprisingly ambivalent about the clash about to take place on his very doorstep.

He was curious who would win, but beyond passing interest, he couldn’t be bothered to shift his attention from his various projects.

The mortals were getting more cautious and clever, however. So, he needed to find new ways to feed his favorite pet.

Maybe Mansa the Gold would have some ideas…

*

Basileus the Betrayer felt a bit in danger of losing his moniker.

Boons he’d granted in ages past were finally being used as the boons he’d created them to be, and he honestly didn’t know how he felt about that. It hadn’t been his fault that those he gifted were too weak of will and weight to fully appreciate his magnanimity. He’d honored his word, he’d given his existence enforced boons.

Regardless, he was curious if one of the inheritors would step up to his level. If that happened, he was even more curious if he’d be greeted with gratitude or hostility.

Truly, these were interesting times.

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