The Daily Grind - Chapter 392 (Patreon)

"Known her since I was probably your age, right proper dame!  Been far too long since last we saw each other, come to think.  Eh, what can you do?  She hates everybody, I hate everybody." -Hestia, Goddess of Flame; Hades 2-

_____

James could have spent his entire life acquiring more magic and training himself to make use of it.  And he would have been happy to do so!  Every little advancement brought new nonsense to his life, new combinations of spells and skills and ranks and levels, new ways he could be a better paladin.  A better paladin that needed to practice at it.

For a lot of his dungeon delving career - as much as that term even applied - James had been improving athletically.  But the advent of the exercise potion revolution in the Order spiked that to something he still needed to get used to, especially with some of his purple orbs.  It was one thing to feel like moving was effortless, and another entirely to use that for maneuvers that looked like movie stunts.

Being able to clear a thirty foot gap with a mild running start was vastly different from doing it.  And then doing it again, and again, under different circumstances and with different problems going on.  A single slightly moving target with an otherwise consistent theme that James drilled at until his legs felt like they were going to go on strike and the thought that he was one tiny slip away from dropping through the gap in the training structure was less terrifying and more along the lines of oh good I could finally be unconscious.

After that, and more besides being stacked on him by one of Nate’s old drill sergeant buddies who was loudly unimpressed by James’ physical abilities even after he walked off a three floor fall, the exercise potion had tasted practically sweet.

Then, before he’d really had a chance to sit down, James was off to Oklahoma again.

He would have rather have been learning more about his demiplane or his domain; trying to figure out if there was an interaction there somehow, because it ‘made sense’ to him.  He would have rather been learning about the intricacies of how inconvenient the newly identified spell coins were, or testing some of the newly approved potions, or even just hanging out with the planning committee that had been tasked with coming up with a uniform for the Order.  Hell, he would have loved to spend the day actually doing that thing that he joked about but never seemed to get around to, and figure out in a practical, hands on way, just how many different Garden or Climb spells were good for having sex with his partners.

Sadly, he had to do the thing that saved lives, and settle for secondhand reports and conversations for the rest.  For now.  Which was how he knew that Vex and Astra were also convinced demiplanes did something with their domains and also that Astra’s demiplane had a waterslide in it.  How he knew that the spell coin that locked itself to a single spell was actually super useful for anyone taking Officium Mundi spellcasting levels from the Pylon, because it let you equip a hundred short range teleports at once without screwing up your ability to cast other spells.  How he knew one of the new potions made feet prehensile.  And how he knew that there was definitely a list of sex-related spells, and that also other people were way more creative than him, and also that someone was trying to start an intentionally erotic community center thing in Townton.  James supported them wholeheartedly.

He didn’t know anything about the uniform yet though.  James hoped it would have some kind of fancy coat included.  He felt like he’d grown into the sort of paladin that was destined to have a coat.

Especially in Oklahoma in January.  It was fucking cold today.

The problem with the cold was, it just made the caerbannogs more irritable.  A difficult thing to parse, given that the default state for a scythe rabbit started at murderous and escalated from there.  But James was pretty confident he could tell they were more upset than usual today.

He didn’t make jokes about it though, because the reason that he had emergency teleported in was that a white furred wave of the things had, sometime in the last hour, poured out onto interstate 54, overrun over thirty cars and at least three semi trucks, and then further overran the local team that had tried to cut off their advance.

An unknown number of people were dead, and ten knights were missing.  And James didn’t fucking care if they were long time members of the Order or people who’d just joined a week ago so they could shoot rabbits and get accolades for it.  They’d been helping people, and they were in trouble, and so he showed up.

James and Zhu had appeared without fanfare, but with gunfire.  There was backup coming, but James’ job wasn’t to have a measured tactical response to a situation.  It was to be not just a rapid response but an instant one.  And so he popped in on part of the highway near the last known position of the knight team and started cutting through scythe rabbits as fast as he could.  He’d reclaimed his UMP from Nate, and while it wasn’t bound to a gun bracelet, it was exceptionally good at handling hordes of soft targets.  Especially since James had a hard time missing.

Zhu watched his back as he started drawing more attention, his own gun picking off anything behind them while both of the duo threw out spells without worrying about the economy of it.  Velocity got depleted almost right away as Paves took out additional targets, the hits from the crown-compressed Velocity pulping flesh and shattering bone.  Breath was conserved, but wands weren’t, and James was happy to make use of his favorite shovel to summon a few dozen razor sharp arms to act as area denial.  And when that wasn’t enough, and when the beasts started closing to within about fifty feet of where James had taken up a shooting position and Zhu informed him in very frantic terms that the rabbits that could bolt at thirty miles an hour were almost on top of them…

He flicked on the invisibility of his earring, as well as the hostile attention deflection from the same item, teleported away to a nearby clear spot with Appointed Arrival, and then… well, he calmly reloaded, took a breath, and did it again.

The scythe rabbits were recklessly violent, but they weren’t totally mindless.  In mass hordes like this, they were an enormous threat, even to moving vehicles, as evidenced by the overturned and smoking wreckage of a semi truck behind James that had slid off the road and left a canyon in the dirt.  But they weren’t entirely without survival instincts.  And as the air filled with the scent of the blood and gore of their kin, mixing with the hot smell of gunfire and the lack of anything to eat that wasn’t sporadic weeds, well.

The wave broke well before James ran out of ammo.  Which was partly because he’d brought a lot of ammo, but was still a welcome sight.

He didn’t stop moving though.  Part of why he’d conserved Breath at all, aside from having no magic that let him wipe out a large number of small opponents, was that he needed to throw out several casts of Call To Blood in the aftermath of the wave.  And while the caerbannogs were scattering in all directions, there were still plenty of them in ones and twos around the highway, so James didn’t waste time.  Zhu took the hunting spell and pulled it through his own infomorph ability to map routes, letting James feel like he’d run a marathon as he drained his lungs going through the names of the knights that were missing.  Every cast marking a glowing orange dot somewhere on the battlefield nearby.

The first cluster James found was still alive, even if they were all wounded and out of bullets.  Their backs to a pair of claw scarred pickup trucks, a semicircle of rabbit corpses surrounding a single standing ratroach, Shallah bleeding neon blue from a dozen breaks in her armor and nearly collapsing the instant she saw James.  Their telepad escape had been fucked up by the abruptness of the attack, and they’d only survived by hitting the end of the wave and not the front of it.

The other dots he got to were, of course, injured.  Because that was how Call To Blood worked.  But it was notable that this time there weren’t really uninjured people to pull out.  Everyone that was still alive was bleeding somewhere.

But at least they were alive.  That wasn’t as much as could be said for the vast majority of the drivers on the unfortunate stretch of road, or the residents or employees of the distant scattered buildings in the direction the horde had come from.  Or for the knights that had lost their lives.  People James didn’t know, personally, but… what did that matter?  They’d been fighting to save other people.

It was a horrible start to a day where he’d already woken up at 4 AM to run a sadist’s idea of an obstacle course.

So naturally, he’d teleported back to the Lair, and almost immediately run into JP, who took one look at him before giving a disappointed shake of his head.  “You’re going to need to change into something that doesn’t smell like a gunfight.”  JP told him.

James took a deep breath, and gently restrained Zhu from strangling his friend, shifting his arm around behind his back and feeling Zhu’s tail whipping at his ankles as the navigator made indignant noises.  “JP.”  James said calmly.  “I’m going to need you to explain yourself before I let Zhu go.  Because I… wait, aren’t you supposed to be in London?”

”I am.”  JP nodded like he was rewarding James for saying something astute.  “And so are you!  Now, can you dress yourself to go meet the nouveau royalty of a nation, or should I send Sartori with you to make sure you don’t wear flood pants to a diplomatic meeting?”

The infomorph in question poked their head out of JP’s collar.  ”I am not a product of nominative determinism!  I don’t know how to dress for this!  But you do smell like blood, are you alright?”

”Oh shit, yeah, I didn’t think of that.  Are you okay?”  JP asked like he was actually worried.

James felt a strange relief that JP actually did seem worried that he’d been hurt.  “It’s not my blood.”  He said.  “But I need a bath.  And breakfast.  And to cry for a while.  So what’s your timeline for this state luncheon?”

”Did you read my note or are you just guessing that it’s a luncheon?”  JP asked.  “Also you can do all of those things.”

”Okay, thank-“

”As long as you do them in the next twenty minutes.”

”-you mother fucker.”  James let go of Zhu.  “You get the legs, I’ll get his arms, we’ll throw him into the secret basement hole.”  He told his navigator friend.

Zhu splayed his talons, eyes fixing on JP.  “I’m on it.”

”JP I have to be here to talk to a dungeon representative I can’t… I can’t do this now.  Take a different paladin.”  James said, already defeated even as Zhu strained against his side.  “Hell, take actual diplomats.  Take Redding, or Karen, or that one ex-ambassador we ‘hired’ who thinks he’s just humoring us because he’s bored and doesn’t understand that he’s entered my mind dungeon.”

”Literal dungeon?”  Zhu started to ask.

Before he was even done, James was already answering.  “Not literal dungeon.”

”Damn.”

”Yeah, I didn’t think before I said it.”  James shook his head.  “So.  JP?”

”Your other paladins are busy with stuff you sent them on, and you know it.  And you fucked my original plan by ritually sacrificing your sense of linear time.  I could take some other people, but I won’t.  Not just to annoy you, though, but because I have… a feeling.”  He scowled, not at James but just into the air beside them.  “Don’t ask me how or what.  Just… can you trust me on this?”  He asked.

It said a lot about their friendship that James was a little startled JP was asking him that at all.  But it said more that the words punched through his shell of frustration and enervation.  “Yeah.”  James still took the opportunity to groan, mentally tugging back on Zhu’s attempted assault and feeling a resonance with the navigator as his friend’s manifestation stilled against him, still bristling but more accepting of what he knew James was about to say anyway.  “Twenty minutes.  Okay.”

”Fifteen now.  Remember to wear a tie!”  JP said, finding his voice again as he strode past James and down the Lair’s basement hall.

“Okay but we can beat him up afterward right?”  Zhu asked his host after the other human was out of earshot.

”It’s been on my list for a while.”  James nodded along before he took a long breath, and started jogging in the direction of the baths.

JP was, annoyingly, right.  He couldn’t show up to that meeting smelling like blood and bullets.  But at least he had some time to message someone to bring him a dress shirt while he scrubbed himself down.

_____

“And that’s the latest from our deep delve team!  Now, next housekeeping segment on our list!”  Sarah’s voice was a cheerfully blast furnace of energy and emotion as she spoke into the microphone on her desk, the good vibe pouring out of her through no magic more powerful than her own personality causing splash damage in the form of smiles to the other people in the room.  “The allocation report!”

”Do you ever get tired of making numbers sound exciting?”  Astra asked her from the other microphone, the other young woman grinning at Sarah with a familiar spark of mischievousness that she refused to let her unhealthy appearance undercut.  Her health problems had left  her far too underweight and with difficulty walking for years, and the scars from the Underburbs attack didn’t help with that look.  But, in a strangely familiar mirror to Sarah, she fought on regardless.

Sarah made a considering high pitched hum, her way of informing the listening audience that she was processing the question.  “For legal reasons I have been advised to not rise to your bait.”  She told Astra with humor in her voice.

Astra, not used to the format of radio, nodded.  “Smart.  So, the numbers, before people get bored of us?”

”Impossible, you’re a delight.”  Sarah retorted, and then pressed on before Astra could continue bantering instead of informing.  “Now!  Sewer books are back in supply!  They’re priced starting at one hundred and twenty points, because we don’t have a lot and there was a waitlist, but there will be more now, despite the Sewer’s best attempts.  Orbs from the Oklahoma Heard haven’t exactly dropped in price, but, someone figured out that you can actually get all three aspects at the same time as long as different people touch each of them!  So find two friends, or two enemies you want to turn into friends, and split the cost!  Also Library yellows, purples, and greens are all going up by two points each, due to a delver shortage.”

”So if you want cheaper orbs, consider signing up to walk into the terrifying infinite library.”  Astra added.

”Oh hush, the Stacks is friendly.”  Sarah didn’t miss a beat.  “The Stacks is interesting.”  She added without fully correcting herself.

Astra’s smile came through in her voice.  “Any other allocation notes?”

”Yes, stop being mean to me.”  Sarah laughed.  “As you may know - my favorite sentence - the Order has been doing group Pylon delves for everyone that wants them, up to I believe twelve points of things?  More details with the people who have details.  But because of that, it’s been decided that if you had signed up for a Pylon delve already within the last two weeks before we started the mass program, you can have your points back!  It should be automatic, just make sure to check!  Climb delves are priced as normal, and have also gone up byyyyy… eight points each!  Because we are, what, Astra?”

”Short on delvers?”  The other girl laughed herself as she answered.

”Correct!  So if anyone wants to be a delver, come talk to one of our delve strategy group upstairs!  It’s dangerous and barely rewarding and also so cool.”  She really tried to sell people on things with her pure honesty.  And, the weird truth was, Sarah’s approach to things really worked.  Her voice did reach people in the Order, and sometimes even beyond that as members used her radio show as a way to dunk their friends or family into the deep end of what their lives had turned into.  And some of those people did actually take her up on the offer of throwing themselves into dungeons.  “Also,” Sarah continued, “exercise potion prices are at an all time low, thanks to Townton’s own alchemy house starting production!  Everyone say thank you to Red if you see her, and then run before she glares at you.”

”I met her once.  It was harrowing, I barely escaped with my ego intact.”  Astra said without containing her playful amusement.  “Hey, you said Heard orbs, and I know Mags has talked to me about those before.  Don’t they have cubes too?”

”They do.”  Sarah confirmed rapidly.

”Are the cubes ‘technically cheaper; too, because of tripling up on the use?”  Astra asked.

Sarah shook her head and pitched her voice in a regretful tone.  “Nooo, because they influence an area and not…” she paused as her producer made a big X with her hands in the air, before holding up the small whiteboard she kept next to her desk for Sarah to read.  “They do?  That can’t be right!”  Sarah cocked her head, scratching at one ear in confusion.  “But they give zone ranks, if you have three people, wouldn’t that just… be too easy?”

”Are things not sometimes easy?”  Astra asked rhetorically before shaking her head at Sarah in the fastest motion she could manage.  “No, no!  I know, don’t tell me!”  The two women laughed along with each other, the light sounds mixing easily.  “Well, everyone listening, expect cube prices to go up until your secret basement figures that out!”

”It’s not a secret basement.”  Sarah pouted.  “Anyone can go down there.”  She paused and then added.  “But maybe don’t, because it’s a silly basement sometimes.”

”I know, I’ve seen the rat containment zone and theme park you guys are building.”  Astra agreed readily.

Sarah brightened instantly.  “I haven’t!  Are they keeping this from me?!”  She abruptly shook her head and waved her hands in the air.  “No, no.  We’re already going to be over time, I can’t get sidetracked.”  She insisted to herself before intoning again in her projected narrator voice.  “Now, moving on!  As you’ve all heard by now, our friend Astra is back again today.  Say hi!”

”Me, or them?”  Astra asked with matched cheer.  “Do you have the magic to let people reply to recorded audio?  Are you time wizards?”

”You, no, and maybe, in that order.”  Sarah answered rapidly.  “Sometimes the farm deliveries for Townton show up before we order them!  But I think that’s just because we’re nice and loyal customers.”

Astra stacked her hands on top of each other, elbows on the desk as she added her chin to the top of the pile.  “And because they want to see the teleporter.”

”Well they have to see the teleporter, you can’t drive a truck to Tennessee from Oregon the long way.”  Sarah scoffed.  “Now do you want to be interviewed or not?”

”I’ve been here for three episodes!”  Astra protested.  “I shouldn’t have to introduce myself!  Also if I introduce myself too effectively it might count as brainwashing and I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Sarah grabbed that hook and tugged on it with all her might.  “Joining us today is Astra!  Who is here to talk to us about why she is a walking memetic hazard!”

”I limp most places!”  Astra replied with a good mood that parried and riposted against Sarah’s like they were fencing and not chatting.  She didn’t keep blocking though.  “Sarah’s too nice to yell at me, so I’ll stop goofing.”  Astra told the audience.  “I am a witch!  And specifically a word witch!  My girlfriends and I, and I suppose some of you now too, have what we call domain magic; it gives us very… very silly control over a specific thing close to ourselves.  And I’m here to talk about it.”

With a silent nod back and forth to exchange control of the exposition chair, Sarah took over.  ”Now the really fun part of this is, Astra’s hometown dungeon is…” Sarah stopped talking, and then took a theatric sigh with just enough of a low tone under it that it would come across clearly on the microphone.  “Well, the good news is that we can talk about the magic all we want!”

”And just the magic!”  Astra agreed.

”So about that magic.”  Sarah prompted.  “Let’s start at the start.  What’s a domain?”

”Easy!”  Astra answered.  “It’s a sphere, attuned to a specific thing, centered on where you think your own core is.  And, in various mystical and mysterious ways, you can add in different ways to sense and manipulate the thing it’s for.”

Sarah nodded.  “And you’re saying thing because…”

They’d gone over a few questions before, so Astra knew exactly what was being asked here.  “We’ve sorted them into two categories.”  She said, sounding like it was a tangent but actually answering the question.  “Material, and esoteric.  Or as Vex says, stuff and nonsense.  I’ve got a nonsense one!  Words aren’t exactly that physical usually, so I’m esoteric.  Our paladin has a material one, now, and so do most of the people who picked up new ones.  They seem a lot more common.”

”How do you know what one you’ll get?”  Sarah asked curiously.

Astra shook her head gently.  “You don’t!  We’re not sure if it’s random when you get it, or if it’s revealing something important to you, or if you’re destined for your domain.  At first, we all thought that there might be some kind of… of meaning in it.  But Vex isn’t an oily person or a car person or anything like that; oh, if any of you ever see her in a motorcycle getup, that’s a cosplay!  Ask her about it!  She secretly really wants you to ask her, I’m not kidding!”  The girl told the audience happily.

Sarah made a mental note to do exactly that.  “You don’t think they mean anything at all?”

”I think they mean what they mean.”  Astra said with a single nod, lips pursed.  When Sarah raised eyebrows back at her, she elaborated.  “Vex knows more about different kinds of oil now than she ever did before.  Same with Mags and hers, though she said I shouldn’t share it and I don’t wanna be mean to her, no matter how grumpy she is.  And me?  Would you believe I’m shy?”

”Yes.”

“Well I am- hey!”  Astra laughed in surprise.

Sarah’s voice was light as she explained herself, but not quite as playful as before.  “It’s not a bad thing, but I can tell you’re forcing yourself in a few ways.  Saying things you wouldn’t otherwise, right?  You’re not used to chatting.”

”I spent a lot of my life in a hospital until kinda recently.”  Astra said quietly.  “It wasn’t very fun.  Hard to be a socialite when you’re stuck in one bed.  But I do need to learn, if I want to use my domain, and I do want to use it!  So that’s what I mean.  They are what they are.  And once they’re there, you can’t pretend they don’t change anything, especially if you’re like us and you’ve put a lot of work into them.”

”Work dungeon delving, or something else?”

”Both!”  Astra declared, regaining some of her vigor.  “I’ve been reading your manual, and I love all the stuff you have here!  But domains are different.  Well, not totally different than everything; I think absorbing blue orbs might be the closest?  But… it’s not the same as that even.”  She paused for breath.  “Okay, okay, focus.”  The last word was directed at herself in a way that was a sharp command, and Sarah could feel it almost tingle when she heard it.  “Yes!  So.”  Astra continued, seeming reenergized.  “Every time you add to your domain, it gets a little bigger, and you get a new sense or effect inside of it.”

”Like what you just did?”  Sarah asked with a cheeky grin.

Astra blushed a little.  “Just like that.  That was an early addition for me.  I can make a single word land with more weight than it’s supposed to.  It’s good for things like that where I already want to do what I’m making myself do.  Everyone else might sit up a little, or listen closer for a few minutes, but it’s not meant for them so it’s not as clear.”  She suppressed a giggle as Sarah shifted in her seat to straighten her back.  “But here’s the fun part!  The tool I have that lets me do that isn’t just ‘a spell’!  It’s a three inch cube of space inside my domain, and I have to move it around to make sure the word is ‘inside’ it!”

”But you said a word.  How does it… know?”

”I overlay that zone on my mouth so the sound comes out mostly through it.”  Astra said.  “Which is why it’s imperfect, because that’s not where all the sound of a word comes from!  And I have to be careful that I don’t accidentally swipe it over random ads on the bus, or the Starbucks menu, or something.”  She smiled as she looked upward, remembering a particular incident that she didn’t share.  “It takes practice to get really good at it.  Not just knowing what I can do…”

”But knowing how to do it.”  Sarah caught on.  “It’s like the ice arms from the Climb, isn’t it?  You can’t just add a whole new part to a person and expect them to instantly be an expert?”  That wasn’t really her question, so she added another one at the end.  “What’s it like?  Getting better at that kind of thing?”

Astra loved that question.  ”Well they’re all so specific, it’s kind of… it’s kind of silly sometimes?  It feels silly!  Like I can do a few weird things, but the stuff I might call ‘spells’ are more like I’ve got six new hands and I’ve gotten okay enough with them that I can do a few specific things that bring it all together.  But I’m not the improviser.  Vex is.  Vex can… Vex sometimes I think can really feel through her domain.  And here I am, still getting used to being able to feel word echoes.”  She sighed.  “So I guess it can be frustrating?  Because it’s like there’s a block, and the only way through is practice, practice, practice.  Especially for the material ones, too!  You gotta do the same little fidget motions over, and over, until you get that thing where you know where the magic hand is all the time.”

“Proprioception!”  Sarah filled in.  ”At least you can make yourself focus on the practicing.”  Sarah pointed out.

”That’s true.”  Astra tapped her cheek with one slender finger.

Sarah took the lapse as an opportunity for the next question.  “Is there a tipping point?”  She asked.  “Where all the specifics come together and you can suddenly do a lot more than before?”

”Oh!  Yes! Absolutely.”  Astra nodded.  “That was the hard part!  You need to persevere until you’ve got six or seven new pieces to play with, and even then… well it can be strange.  But once you get a few different ways to sense your domain, and get used to swinging them around, you can start moving and changing things more confidently.  And a lot of the manipulation bits have requirements, like, have you seen how Vex uses oil needles?  Well that’s because she can only make it sharp if it’s in that shape.  But she’s got two other ways to compress stuff down and make it needley enough to work.  So yes, to the original question before I started ranting!  Yes, there’s a tipping point.”

”It sounds like a cool magic.”  Sarah said thoughtfully.  “We know that it works with Climb magic a little, which is helpful, but just on its own it sounds like something that can do a lot, no matter what your domain is, huh?”

Astra shrugged lightly.  “I do think that some are better than others.”  She said, clearly struggling against a little bit of sadness.  “Mine isn’t… adventurey.  It’s so hard to even go into… to gather more domain bits.  I practice, but I’m not gonna be fighting monsters or saving puppies.”

”Maybe!”  Sarah shrugged casually.  “But it’s yours, isn’t it?  And we have plenty of magic that can cause problems.  It’s not bad to have something that’s good for just living life.”

”I guess you’re exactly the wrong person to complain to about not being Superman.”  Astra pouted at Sarah.

Sarah’s nod was full of reassuring verve.  “Correct!”  She told the other girl.  “So, do you think this has the ten thousand hour rule, then?  Put in enough work and you’ll be a master?”

Astra sighed, but more in thought than in any kind of exhaustion.  “Yes.”  She settled on.  “Some of the things I can do I know probably aren’t ’intended’.  If anything was intended!”  She giggled.  “And I complain, but it does feel good to get better.  It feels good all around, actually!  It feels good to have this part of myself that isn’t sick, that doesn’t get tired or damaged, that just works.”

”It sounds like it’s something special to you.”  Sarah quietly prompted.

”It’s magic.”  Astra breathed out like it was obvious.

“Magic is magic.”  Sarah intoned.  “It can be a tool, a weapon, a toy, a way of living, lots of things.  Your magic sounds like you love it, even if it annoys you.”

”Maybe especially because it annoys me.”  Astra admitted with a lopsided grin.  Then she shook her head after a small moment of quiet, and dove back in with renewed zest.  “So!  Want to tell the people about all the bizarre exceptions you weirdos have already discovered?”

”Would I?!”  Sarah met her guest’s energy, and ran with it.

The interview ran a little bit over time, because domains were just fun to talk about.  How it felt like they were extra hands and eyes, how weird it was that hive minds split their domain space but fundamentally all had the same actual domain, how hard it was to identify esoteric style domains when you never knew what to even start looking for.  And then, of course, wild speculation and more than a little joking about how they intersected with demiplanes and orbs and various kinds of upgrades the Order had access to.

And afterward, Sarah invited Astra back for the next episode, just to hang out.  She felt like she needed something to do.  And Sarah did notice that for all that she was making an effort to fit with the Order, Astra had an undercurrent of nervousness to her words when she wasn’t making an effort to be overtly positive.

It was nice to have a distraction that helped you connect to the people around you.  Sarah sure knew a thing or two about that.  

Especially when she went home to check in on Auberdeen and Alanna, and wondered if this was the time her roommate was going to get themself killed overseas fighting a literal tyrannical government.

_____

The sitting room at the private manor was like a surreal window into history itself.  Layers peeled back and exposed through antique paintings, equally antique furniture, meticulously ordered and preserved books, and even the architecture itself.  The way the walls couldn’t just be walls, they had to be expressions of wealth and authority; intricate carvings and detailing showing off the style at the time the place was first constructed.

This room was probably older than the country James came from.  The building certainly was.  Located somewhere north of London, James could also see out the window the manicured lawn and topiary that was, on its own, probably covering more area than the occupied part of Townton.

Everything in the room spoke of luxury.  It was comfortable and perfectly easy to move around in.  The chairs, one of which JP was occupying, were exactly the right kind of chair for sitting for hours and having serious talks.  Nothing cluttered the area up, nothing was out of place, nothing was wrong.

James hated it.

He could see, under the glamour, the nature of the thing.  Aloof, parasitic, cruel without intent.  And not just because it was old, but because of what it was.  This was a building constructed for a caste system that a lot of humans still clung to.  It was made with wealth and power that were taken, not shared.  And the part of him that was getting closer every day to just calling itself communist reviled in it.

The only consolation he got was that Mel, the woman who was currently sitting in the chair angled toward JP’s and watching the Order member like she was worried he was going to evaporate and start stealing silverware if left unattended, looked just as uncomfortable as James did.

Mel was, apparently, someone with a Rank in ‘court performer’, or something of that nature.  What that let her do was unclear, because a lot of the powers that the Tyrants and their team had was deeply unclear.  JP thought she could murder people with her guitar.  James kind of wanted to see that, but not if it meant that he was one of the people being murdered.  His commitment to the bit only went so far.

She was also almost painfully familiar.  Not as a person, but as an archetype that James saw a lot around the basement of the Lair every time he ran into Momo.  The normal ponytail and crisp monocolored professional clothing she was wearing were draped over her body like a prison uniform more than anything else; a concession to some kind of social nicety that she clearly didn’t give a shit about.  And James, wearing a suit that he didn’t feel like he could fight in properly, definitely empathized with that.

James was also grateful that he had a few Sarah podcast episodes on his skulljack, because if he didn’t, he would have gone mad already.  Standing by the window with his arms folded, pretending to be stoic and sturdy, while secretly listening to his best friend banter with Astra, was a secret joke that kept James focused.  He took the advice of the voice in his head while he waited, too; holding a folded piece of mundane paper like he was thinking about it, while actually sweeping it with his domain’s senses and occasionally tapping it with one of the manipulators, just to begin to internalize how it all felt.

A restless sensation from Zhu cycled through his limbs in a mental loop while he waited, too.  The navigator wasn’t manifested, but was sitting on the edge of James’ thoughts.  Hanging onto being in a new place and a kind of mental momentum, ready to pop out at any time when things went wrong.

It was hard to tell sometimes if Zhu was okay.  James worried constantly that his friend’s exposure to the Underburbs had left him with more persistent damage that couldn’t be easily healed.  But Zhu persisted himself, and as time went by and he grew in James’ head, it became easier and easier for him to slip in and out of physical reality when needed.  Among other tricks, which navigators seemed to have a whole sackful of.  Pathfinder was talking about trying to track down dungeons with orphaned magics in them, apparently, and Amelia’s brush with a pillar’s corpse had left her seemingly with a hundred ideas for tracing those nightmares.  Navigators were a very specific life form, but James loved how much room there was in that specificity for nonsense.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening, and a woman walking in, followed by a balding man who had the most minion vibe James had ever seen.  He was wearing a business suit, she was wearing something that must be a custom piece of clothing, halfway between an armored coat and a ball gown.  Beige baffle patterning on draped sleeves, armored padding that evoked an almost Victorian era profile.  James had to do a double take on it.   “-end of the week.  Will there be anything else, ma’am?”  The man was saying.

”No.” The woman didn’t look back at him as he closed the binder he was carrying and nodded.  Her voice, even in that simple statement, was authoritative and confident.  James felt his spine straighten as she looked his way while she continued speaking to the man behind her.  “Ensure that the issue with the people of Wellinghons is handled.  Promptly.  And nonviolently.”

”Yes ma’am.”  The man nodded again.

”Good.  Now give us ten minutes.  This shouldn’t be a long meeting.”  She said, and the man quickly left the room with only a single confused glance at James.  The woman waited until the door closed, her regal bearing holding steady for just long enough that she seemed sure her minion wasn’t about to reenter.

And then it was like she was a different person.  Her eyes closed, her shoulder sagged, and one hand came up to almost rub her forehead before she stopped herself from messing up her makeup.  It wasn’t like she lost all of that authoritative posture, but she changed enough that it was clear she was either less made of iron than she appeared, or she was deliberately trying to put them at ease.

”Mel.”  The woman said, looking up at the musician who had her feet up on an antique table that was worth more than every pair of shoes anyone here had ever worn.  “This is them?”

”Yes ma’am.”  Mel said with a sarcastic humor in her voice.

”Stow it, ye damn bard.”  The woman turned to raise an eyebrow at James.

”This one.”  Mel said, pointing at JP.

The taller woman looked down at the human that was technically wearing the same thing as James, but somehow looked sharper dressed.  “Well.  You’ve earned some goodwill for that.  And for some reason, you wanted to meet me.”

”Well, we wanted to meet any of the Tyrannies.”  JP said, standing smoothly, very conspicuously not offering a handshake.  “Thank you for your time.  My name is JP, this is James Lyle.  We represent a group called the Order of Endless Rooms.”

”Well you get this one.  You may call me Etain.”  She said.  “Now.  Why are you a military threat?”  Her voice was back to being forged out of steel.

”Beg pardon?”  JP asked.

James cleared his throat to politely interject.  “Are you asking because you have some kind of magical sense?”  He asked, and got a sharp eyed stare before Etain nodded at him once.  “Right.  Well, we’re relatively effective combatants, though we aren’t-“

”No,” she said, stopping him with a raised hand, “you two represent a military threat to my military assets.  I’m not saying you’re planning to execute on it.  But you have a threat rating that outpaces ambassadors and generals. Can you explain that?”

Keeping his pleasant smile in place, JP opened his mouth to give a reasonable explanation, and then got conversationally dive tackled by James.  “I have the authority to have chunks of the world catapulted into a living extradimensional space, and things like ‘defenses’ or ‘buildings’ don’t really stop it from working.  And I can make people forget I did it.”  He said bluntly.  “So it’s probably that.”

Her facade of calm cracked slightly.  And for a moment, James saw someone who knew, knew, that she was out of her depth.  He recognized the look because he saw it a lot in the mirror, but it was nice to know other people got it too.

With forced calm, Etain motioned to the other chairs.  “Maybe we should sit.”  It was not framed as a suggestion.  James did so, shifting one of the sitting room chairs over next to JP’s while Etain took one that let her lean back and look at everyone else in the room easily.  “You’re like us.” She said, after a quiet stretch to collect her thoughts.

”Told you.”  Mel muttered.

”Not exactly.  But we have magic.”  James replied.  “So I’m sure you can understand why we’d want a polite conversation with… well, you.”

Etain gave him a nod.  “This meeting is making more sense.  I was told it was a luncheon to give a commendation for heroic action.  How much of a coincidence is that, really?”

”Well, I was stalking her for a week.”  JP pointed at Mel.  “Though I didn’t expect to have to save her life, so that part was real.”  He answered smoothly.  “Our assessment of you as people is… challenging to put together, to say the least.”

”I’ll bet.”  Etain pressed two fingers to her temple as she closed her eyes.  “And I’m here to assess you right back, since you’re an uncontained danger.  So tell me right out, what do you want?”

“In general?  A perfect world.”  James said glibly.  “But right now?  We want to know what you want.”  He wanted to stand and pace, but that seemed rude.  He also wanted to know if someone was going to make good on the luncheon thing he kept hearing, because he was starving.  “I’m going to try to be bluntly honest here.  Your group murdered a figurehead and somehow turned that into mass mind control.  An entire nation is doing what you tell them to, you’re clearly empowered in some way, and you have access to nuclear weapons.  So yeah, we’re concerned about your ambitions, and your goals, and your methods.  We want to know how far you plan to take this.”

”And you think you deserve to know this.”  The words were back to being commanding, almost angry.  “You think you’re in a position to make demands?”

”I think we don’t have the whole picture.”  James said.  “Look, I’m gonna do what my friend here told me not to, and reveal a little information.  We represent maybe a few thousand people, currently technically in the US.  You represent, sort of, fifty million people.”

”More than that.”  Etain said.  “Our reach extends past the national borders everyone has wrongly assumed.  She sounded almost smug as she rebutted James’, perhaps not realizing she was giving anything away there.

James nodded politely.  “Right.  So there’s some questions, that we’d like to ask politely and directly.”

”And as strange as this meeting is, and as much as I genuinely appreciate you saving Mel’s life, I’m not interested in telling you much of anything.”  Etain told him equally direct.  “You can be as much of a threat as you want, but whatever you think of us, we are running this country now.  And state secrets are secret for a reason.”

That sounded both reasonable, and insane, given that she seemed to accurately know the level of capability the Order had.  James wasn’t really sure where to pivot the conversation from there, if he were being honest.

So he was glad JP picked up for him.  “This is a bit of a strange meeting in general, I’ll agree.”  He said, folding his hands over his chest and he seemed to sink into his chair.  He adjusted the glasses he was wearing with a gentle motion as he kept talking.  “Perhaps the strangest part of it all, is that the government of our nominal homeland seems to be trying to assassinate your people?  Maybe we could start there.”

”Yeah, hey, I’d like some answers about that too!”  Mel declared, adding her voice to the conversation.  “Eddi, come on, they’re at least trying to help with that.”

Etain sighed, her composure holding through it.  “I do understand being at odds with your own government, believe it or not.”

That got a surprised bark of laughter from James.  “Right, but… okay, you guys put out a call for everyone abroad to come back here, I assume for the mind control.  Don’t… don’t bother giving me excuses or whatever, I’m pissed but we can deal with that later.  What I want to know is why the US government is calling you international allies and forming special task forces to round out foreign nationals, if they’re also trying to shoot you.”

”I assure you, they aren’t our international allies.”  Etain was definitely angry now.  “They’re thugs and brutes, and I can see you agree with me.  Is that what you were asking, about our ambitions?  Oh, do what you want to them.  I may have crossed half the lines I thought I had to get here, but I’m not so much of a hypocrite that I would tell you not to conquer if you thought you could do a better job.  Take America.  Take the whole continent if you want.  If your people are as polite as you, we can carve the world in half and be amicable about it.”

“That wasn’t what he was asking.”  JP snorted.  “Obviously.  Look at him, do you think that is the face of a conqueror?”

”I think you’d be surprised what a face can hide.”  Etain sniped back.

This conversation wasn’t going in the direction James had been hoping.  “So what’s your opinion on the mind control thing?”  He asked, failing to control his own tone perfectly.  James had kind of already given up on the idea of getting useful information out of this meeting, but he did at least want the measure of one of the three people that were now dominating the entire land mass they were standing on.

She stared back at him, simmering irritation behind her eyes, the tension clearly making her friend uncomfortable, which James thought was a hilarious byproduct of being asked to justify a crime that affected the freedom of millions of people.  “My opinion?  My opinion is that it’s the most effective way to cut through all the politicking shite.  It doesn’t matter, Lyle, if it’s good or bad or right or wrong.  You think I don’t know, know, that someone else could use it to oppress and genocide?  I’m Irish.  No one needed mind control to do that.  But now I’m one of the ones in charge, and I can just tell everyone to quit being bastards, and they do.  What do you think you’d do, with that power, hey?”

James shrugged.  ”I think I’d probably use it.”  He admitted openly.  “I think I’d tell myself something like how you can apologize for most things as long as no one is dead, and I’d use that power to rip apart all the things I saw as wrong.”

”And you’re here lecturing me?”

”I’m here trying to figure out if your idea of fixing the world includes that genocide thing you mentioned.”  James stabbed back, voice hotter than he’d intended.  “You did start your reign with televised murder, after all.”

”No one liked him anyway.”  Etain retorted, glaring at James.

The two of them scowled at each other for a tense moment, until JP leaned across toward Mel.  “Really sorry about him.  He’s like this.”

”Yeah, her too.”  Mel’s face was red.  “I don’t know why Eddi’s not just saying it, but we’re not randomly killing people.”

”Oh I know.”  JP nodded.  “Similarly, I’m a little upset James here couldn’t follow basic instructions to be polite for one luncheon.”

”There’s no lunch here, stop saying that.” James ordered him, not breaking eye contact with Etain, who was glaring at him in a way that felt like it was causing a kind of metaphysical pressure.

The two of them let the silence stretch on, until eventually, Etain broke eye contact, brushing one of the sleeves of her outfit back into place from where it had slightly slipped, and standing up suddenly.  “Well.  Consider yourselves diplomatically acknowledged.”  She said.  “If your group wants to get along?  Stay out of our way.  You might be a threat, but you’re not enough of one that you can threaten me.  Play in your own yard, and I’ll tell the others to leave you alone.”

”Two things first.”  James said, dragging his voice back to professional.  “Some of our members have families that are under your… auspices.”

”Oh, is that all?”  Etain was still frowning, but didn’t sound surprised.  “We’re not turning people into zombies, and anyone who wants to leave is allowed.  It’s everyone else making a scene of it.”

”Yeah, well, if you command unquestionable loyalty, I can imagine that some countries might be uncomfortable with anyone from here being programmed.”  James said with a frown, hoping to prompt some kind of response.  Even a denial, even a lie, would tell them something about the Tyranny’s reach and scale.  But Etain just stared at him with no intention of answering at all, so he sighed and got to his second point.  “The other thing.”  James reached into his pocket.  Slowly.  “During your… ascension… one of our members was present, and may have caused a small incident by stealing some of your dungeontech at an inopportune moment.”

”You.”  Etain’s eyes went wide.  “Well it answers a pressing question, at least.”  She said, clearly annoyed.  “I suppose we’re to the extortion part of the…” she trailed off, seeming legitimately stunned for the first time in the conversation, as James’ hand came out of his pocket with a half dozen copies of the Rank crystal, each on its own little chain.

He spoke like he wasn’t even close to apologetic.  “Obviously we don’t want to start whatever our relationship is with a diplomatic incident.”  He told her, setting all of them on the table that Mel yanked her boots off of so fast.  “So, since we know how difficult it can be to obtain tools like this, please, take this as a token of apology.”

Mel’s eyes widened to dinner plates.  ”These are… Eddi, this is Omar’s…”

”I know.”  Etain said flatly, her voice so hard it silenced her friend in just those words.

She didn’t say anything else, just looking at the table with appraising eyes.  And then, James saw it.

Because this wasn’t a gift.  Not exactly.  This was, in fact, a trap.  When and how they deployed it was up to how the conversation had gone, but JP’s assessment had turned out to be worryingly accurate.  And now, James saw the results.

There it was in the Tyrant’s look.  The realization.  The light of understanding that being on good terms with the Order, and sharing some of their power, could reap massive rewards.

Because JP had stolen one crystal, and she knew it.  And James was returning six like it was nothing.

He felt a little bad for noticing the exact moment where she realized how much leverage he actually had, and a little worse for realizing that he would weaponize that leverage anyway.  But Etain was… well…

Not an enemy, exactly.  Maybe.  But she was a Tyranny.  She was one of three people that had a level of magical power that gripped a significant chunk of the world.  And maybe it was harsh, but when James considered that, he thought about how they had a predicted timeline for the collapse of civilization, and he thought about what he would do with that kind of power.

And he thought that if the Order couldn’t come to an agreement with them, and couldn’t directly fight them, then maybe the best thing they could do would be to, in some way, harness them.

He didn’t really like that thought.  He didn’t like thinking of diplomacy as manipulation.

But also, the woman giving him a curated and polite “Thank you, we will take this into consideration” as she stood up and looked toward the door of the manor’s sitting room like she was expecting her minion at any moment was the same woman who had knifed a king so she could seize the power to give unbreakable commands to millions of people.  She wasn’t some random innocent that had fallen into this mess due to a few too many dungeon delves.  No, Etain was a player in a game that she’d opted into.

So James gave her a stiff smile and polite nod, as she left with Mel in her wake, and abandoned James and JP to find their own way out.

He didn’t get a single tiny sandwich the whole time, either, which really made him feel lied to.

_____

“And now, welcome back to the show, Mercy!”  Sarah’s voice as a jovial as ever, even though many of the people listening would know for a fact that this particular episode was recorded during a part of the Order’s operations that were a little stressed from the sudden need to deploy a lot of people to Oklahoma.  “Not to be confused with Marcy, who we talked to last week!  Hi Mercy.”

”Hello Sarah.”  The manifested infomorph, a seemingly endless coil of pink and white sea serpent dotted with eyes and fins, gave Sarah a charming smile.  “It is always a pleasure.”

Sarah giggled quietly.  ”Likewise.”  She really did like Mercy.  Deb’s partner infomorph was, in many ways, the polar opposite of Deb’s own personality.  She was patient, understanding, and personable in all the places where Deb herself was often frustrated, frustrated, and frustrated.  “Now, a quick refresher introduction for anyone new to the Order.  Mercy here is an assignment and nurse in the Lair’s medical department.  Mercy, how’s that been going?”

”Quite well, thank you!”  The assignment replied.  “To both conditions, though specifically the nursing aspect.  I have been one of the primary test subjects on just how well skill orbs work on my species, and I must say, it is exhilarating to know the secrets that make one able to repair people.  Of course it isn’t perfect, medicine never truly is, but I enjoy the way in which I serve our community.”

”And we all appreciate you!”  Sarah dispensed praise fairly regularly, but it was never false or disingenuous.  The appreciation was earned, after all, and everyone should be recognized for their contributions.  “So, would you like to tell everyone about why you’re here today?”

”Indeed.”  Mercy’s form rotated, her floating body drifting around itself so she had a better angle on the microphone that was still required for anyone to hear her speak.  “Recently, we have begun a long term project to understand how our collective magics interact with various forms of ability and disability.  Mapping out different interactions, as well as ways in which known powers and improvements can be used to mitigate or nullify disabilities.  And I have arrived today to speak a little about the work, and also to seek more volunteers.”

Sarah hummed.  “Disability seems like a strange term, now that you make me think about it.  How do you…?”

”Ah, I have an explanation for this!”  Mercy seemed happy to have her preparation pay off.  “It is imperfect, but we are defining ‘disability’ as a break from the common defined suite of abilities and senses that a member of a given species has which naturally work in concert with themselves.  Which is to say, I would not call you disabled for being unable to derive strength from consuming memories, just as you would not call me disabled for needing a living physical mind to inhabit.”

”But if an assignment couldn’t sense information…?  Sarah asked.

”A disability.  Because it is a disruption of a number of functions often working together that we take for granted.  A human being blind is in a similar position; not only is most infrastructure not constructed to accommodate them, they are at a disadvantage in terms of performing feats that might seem default to the species.  Running, or jumping, for example.  This is also why we are not defining camracondas as disabled for lacking manipulator limbs, though of course, just as many humans might choose to take a purple orb for sensing electricity or develop a skulljack, many camracondas use artificial enhancements to gain an ability that is not part of their natural compliment.”

Biting her lip slightly, Sarah asked something that she knew was a bit of a trap.  “But we do have shaper substance.  Isn’t that kind of the fix for things?”

”Ah.”  Mercy’s smile was kind, in the way that a parent about to tell a child why they could not have candy for dinner could be kind.  “There are of course problems there.  The requisite knowledge is a barrier, as is the development of a skulljack to facilitate expert support.  But, most simply?  We don’t have enough.  Shaper substance requires volume to work at full effectiveness, especially on aspects that cover an entire body, and the Order simply does not have the supply.”

”Sewer delves did only just restart.”  Sarah said sadly.  “And… copying it isn’t very effective, is it?”

“It is not.  Now.”  Mercy’s voice shifted to a clinical pitch.  “We have a secondary source, which for privacy reasons is not public information.  But that has not been strenuously tested yet, and requires proper consent before it can be brought into real use.”  She lightened her tone and color shading.  “It is good that shaper substance exists and can be used, unquestionably!  But it is not an easy fix for every problem.  Nor does it address less intrusive mitigation.”

Sarah clicked her tongue.  ”Not everyone wants ear surgery when hearing aides work?”

”Precisely.”  Mercy bobbed in the air over the recording desk.  “Now, I wish to address some worries.”

”Worries?”  Sarah asked curiously.

”Worries indeed.”  Mercy gave a small chuckle.  “Many historic human attempts to… let us say address disabilities among your population, have been unkind.  Sometimes in the extreme.  Even best case scenarios are often framed as a way to allow people to ‘become productive’.  I wish to immediately offer the reassurance that my project has little interest in this.  Our goal is to offer supplemental aid to those who wish it, and also, to understand the full picture of our options so that said aid can arrive in a timely and unobtrusive fashion.”

Sarah’s nod went unseen by anyone listening, but was rapid and forceful nonetheless. “No eugenics!  The Order’s handbook is very clear on this!”

”Indeed.”

”So, what are you guys working on at the moment?”  Sarah asked, steering them toward the active effects of Mercy’s ongoing work.

The informorph let herself be steered.  “I’m glad you asked!  At the moment, we are largely focused on the development of Verdigris Venture spell usage in ways that can alleviate common issues.  Unfortunately, we do not have the spellbook that allows for normal vision from a single eye.  However there are many options that might seem inconsequential to a delver that are exceptional in their daily utility to someone that can’t already do what the spells cover.”

”Ah, I was actually talking to a few people about this the other day.”  Sarah said, leaning back.  “This is a bit of a leap in the opposite direction, but… a lot of the magic we get that’s for combat is usually just… worse than a gun?  I do not like guns, mind you!  But it’s very funny to watch James scowl at things when he realizes that the super cool fireball is actually less effective than something he already had.”

”Less of a tangent than you might believe.”  Mercy agreed.  “Altercation Imp Ward is an example on my side of the equation.  Accidental damage is often… not relevant, for most people.  A car crash is not an accident, nor are most industrial incidents.  And upgrading it far enough to cover instead incidental damage is time consuming.  However, for humans, ratroaches, and chanters that have balance issues owing to missing limbs, damaged inner ears, or simply the progression of age for your own species, it offers an almost free exemption from a potential disaster.  Jester’s Sip may seem like its only use is potion consumption on the battlefield, but we have found that it is an immensely powerful tool for helping with overcoming eating disorders.  Even Brief Contact has an application for those who have broken limbs, or genetic disorders leading to muscular issues.“

”And for anyone playing along at home and wondering what the proper nouns Mercy used were;” Sarah laughed, “Altercation Imp Ward is a kind of tight body shield that only works on accidents, Jester’s Sip lets you drink something at range, and Brief Contact brings a small statue to life for a bit.  Wait, that last one… for someone who needs an extra hand?”  Sarah asked.

Mercy twisted herself in a looping nod.  ”Just so.”  She agreed.  “For someone of any species who happens to be in a wheelchair, it is a helpful tool for navigating work on countertops.”

”Now I note you didn’t talk about the spell that shares sight.  Is it because it’s ironic?”  Sarah asked.

”Surprisingly no!  One of my colleagues in this project has noted repeatedly that the Garden, out of all the dungeons we have encountered thus far, is one of the closest to being truly disability friendly.”  Mercy mused.  “This includes both its geography, which is often gentle in many ways other dungeons are not, as well as its magic.  Though I should note that sight is not a requirement for any other dungeon magic in general, while the Garden does require a sense.  It is simply that it produces spellbooks of varying means of equipping.”

”Spell audiobooks!”  Sarah said happily.

Mercy laughed in return.  “As well as braille, for those that prefer a tactile form.  We have yet to find one in scratch and sniff format, to my dismay, but that is part of our ongoing attempt to influence Garden loot drops.”

”How so?”

”It is simple really.  We are working to encourage and support delvers of different sorts of ability, to see if their presence on a delve team, or even involvement with our own population of Garden life, influences the style of spellbooks created.”  Mercy answered.  “Statistically, we have already noticed that blind delvers generate an almost forty percent increase in audio and tactile spellbooks, which is unignorable.”

“Fascinating!”  Sarah actually hadn’t known that, but it had some cool applications.  “That also means the dungeon is specifically not trying to just mess with people, doesn’t it?”

Mercy wasn’t so sure, and her quiet hum showed it.  “Possibly.  However as we have already seen from the Climb or Horizon, dungeons don’t need a sensory component to begin with.  So while Indira is perfectly happy to believe the Garden is considerate, I am less sure.”  She shook her long head as she answered.

”Now, I’m noticing that a lot of our magic is, I am unhappy to say, limited.”  Sarah pointed out.

”Indeed.  While the preferred solution is permanent, such as shaper substance or a targeted purple orb, we are much more likely to have access to Garden spells, which is why they are our current focus.”  Mercy pointed out.  “And so, it would be helpful to have quite a few additional volunteers.”

”Right!”  Sarah brightened immensely.  “What kind of help are you looking for?”

Now it was Mercy’s turn to reply with an amused laugh.  ”Nothing quite so life-altering as many of the Order’s projects!”  She defended herself quickly with rapid twitches of the tendrils coming off her body like whiskers drifting in a current.  “What we would like would be for anyone with a condition that disrupts their species’ normal operations to help us determine the most time effective ways to supplement their daily lives.  This will require some time investment, yes, perhaps four to eight hours a week.  However our project has a budget, and for those that were considering spending their stipend on Garden coins or some of the more specific potions, consider getting them for free while helping us expand the horizon of our knowledge instead!”

”Any species?”  Sarah asked, for clarity.

”Indeed.  We are less concerned at the moment with adapted effects and building a full interaction database - though we are doing so - than we are with making use of solutions we know are available and simply… under practiced.”  Mercy swayed, her glow dimming slightly before she added something else that was less pleasant for her.  “I would also like to take this moment to intercept a potential misunderstanding.  Whether or not they can be considered a distinct species of life, umbral with a single core limb are not disabled.  Your bodies are fully functional and in concert with themselves, regardless of if you decide to supplement your capabilities with additional limbs.”

Sarah couldn’t hide a wince at the reminder that many umbral were still in the process of working through the slight bigotry that had just started to take hold in their people before they’d met the Order.  It could be worse, truly, but it wasn’t a fun situation.  “What about the strain of camracondas that can’t effectively freeze things without backlash?”  Sarah asked.

”Ah!  That is not a normal function of the species, and has been observed across multiple iterations of the camraconda species!  So yes, you are correct that would be the form of disability we are speaking of.  Though I will be honest and tell anyone listening with that condition that we do not at present have a solution for it, I am afraid.”  Mercy sadly informed the audience.  “However, that does not mean we cannot search for one.  So please, for anyone interested, we would be happy to have your input.”

”And for anyone who wants to give that input,” Sarah’s voice rose as she capped off the episode’s short interview, “they can find Mercy roaming the halls!  And also through her email, under the listing for Medical.”

”Unlike some of my more prominent kin, I am not allergic to digital communication.”  Mercy confirmed with a series of sly grins along her body.

Sarah’s laugh bubbled out of her like a mountain spring.  ”Mercy thank you so much for coming on today.  And good luck with this project.  Now!  Before we close out the episode…”

_____

James looked up from his apparently silent vigil out into the rainy street of a place that was maybe its own city or maybe was just consumed by London’s ongoing attempt to eat the entire continent.  JP, approaching after leaving him alone at a restaurant that was probably also older than James’ entire family line, but was much more comfortable, dropped into the booth on the other side with a silent glare at the world.

”We’re still being watched.”  He complained.

”Hardly surprising.”  James paused Sarah’s podcast.  He really, really did not want to be here right now.  “JP, I’m gonna be undiplomatic.”

”What, just starting right now?”

”I hate this.”  James continued.  He didn’t bother to try to hide their conversation.  The only real reason they were still here was because it was one of the few times they knew that they would be observed, so it was a good opportunity to see more of the nation on the ground.  At least, according to JP, who was making James stay with him for backup.  “I hate this situation, and the people doing it, and if I’m going to get rained on I want to do it at home where I can work on magic that helps people.”

JP didn’t even bother aiming his nonplussed look at James personally.  “Shooting them is still on the table.”  He said.  “Though I doubt it would work.”

Through their secure connection, a file was sent.  One skulljack braid to another, in a file format that wouldn’t mean anything even if it were intercepted.  James unpacked the memory, looking at the world the way JP did for a moment and experiencing the mental equivalent of being slapped in the face by a cork board covered in red string and notecards.

The two of them kept talking out loud, trading banal platitudes while James was thinking about the real conversation.

Through the affiliation glasses JP had worn, partly to see if the Tyrannies had any kind of magic detection capabilities, they had several different readings, but only two were really important.

Mel, who had the job title of Skald (XII) to the Tyrannies Of Europe, was a partial known factor, though it did explain why JP thought she was more militant than someone who had a role of ‘lead guitar’ or something.  It was kind of obvious from exposure to her that the Rank was overriding any kind of regular job title.  Either that or it was showing up because she was leaning into it.

It might not have been especially precise, but it did mean that it was fairly likely that when the other woman was labeled as Etain “Ettie” Flannery, Commandant (XXII) of the Tyrannies Of Europe, it was probably her Rank coming through.  If the glasses had read her mundane rank within the British military, it probably would have been field marshal, or general.  Maybe admiral.  Not Commandant.  That had the same flavor as Skald; like it was coming from an outside source.

The real kicker was the numbers.  Thanks to some early testers, the Order knew the Ranks listed themselves with the same Roman numeral tiers as Lessons, but that meant that Etain was at tier twenty fucking two for her Rank.

For comparison, James was at tier four in his Endurance stat, and he knew for a fact that it let him go for multiple days without sleep, food, or water.  And that if he was injured, he could push through a lot of things short of major organ trauma.  The only reason he didn’t say he could fight through that was because he hadn’t tested it.

That was at four.  At twenty two… James was kind of willing to guess that twenty two tiers of Endurance would let him survive while decapitated.  Or maybe he could get bisected and each side could keep doing its own thing.

He didn’t know what it translated to for a Rank, but holy shit was it terrifying.

Aside from that nightmare tidbit, JP’s infodump contained a summary of the meeting, and the ups and downs of it.  The good news was, he was pretty sure they’d gotten out of it with the Tyrannies knowing about the Order, and likely being prepared to treat them with the sort of mutually assured destruction protocol that anyone with citykiller weapons used on each other.  He also confirmed James’ assessment that they recognized what had happened to their loot drop, and were going to be hungry to get access to it.

That part was a bit of a gamble.  But it was deemed unlikely that these people were going to perform some kind of alpha strike on Townton, especially since Townton was quite difficult to locate.

The bad news was, they’d gotten very little else.  A few tidbits that may or may not be trustworthy information, basically nothing about the capabilities of the Tyrannies, and no confirmed progress on understanding their ideological motivations.  Assuming they had any at all.

James kind of forgot sometimes that there were absolutely people in the world who would want to dominate a nation just so that they could have it.  Power for the sake of power, wealth for the sake of wealth.  He spent a lot of his life researching was to make civic life better, and fighting people who were actively trying to make civic life worse for ideologically stupid reasons, so he kind of forgot that sometimes humans were just greedy bastards.

The lack of intel on their magic was the worst part.  Whether it was four or twenty two it didn’t matter if there was no assessment of what the scale applied to.  Could the Commandant summon soldiers from nothing?  Order troop movements telepathically?  Coordinate a national defense via teleportation?  Resurrect the fallen?  Nuke people?

Probably at least one of those!  And James would really like to know which!  He’d also like to know which of the trio had the mind control power, if it wasn’t just all three of them.  Because that represented a potential point of attack, if he did take JP’s offer of just shooting people to solve his problems again.

He shot back a quick transmission that was just acknowledgment of getting the file, while out loud, he sighed with the depth only ten levels in Breathing had gotten him to.  Looking around the restaurant they’d parked themselves in, James didn’t really understand.  Everything just seemed… normal.  People were eating lunch, working in the kitchen, getting in loud arguments on speakerphone, trying to get their kids to eat vegetables, and generally going about their lives.

It wasn’t what he thought of when he thought of a country in thrall.  “Explain this to me.”  He ordered JP.

”Oh, you’ll hate it.”  His friend told him with way too much smug satisfaction.

“I bet I will, yeah.”  James shot back, still experiencing residual anger at the Tyranny he’d been talking to an hour ago.  “Everyone’s just… is there no resistance?  Surely someone, right?  We know memetic resistance exists naturally, there must be…”

JP’s eyes drifted out the frosted glass window to the street, where at least one of their watchers was in the unenviable position of being outside in England.  “There is.”  He said.  “I’ll tell you about it later, but there’s multiple resistance movements.”

”And?”

”And… there’s no way to sugarcoat this.  I think if any of them win?  It’ll be worse.”  JP said, getting an alarmed jolt from James.  “For varying reasons, too.  Some of them are die hard monarchists, some are just evil, some of them just think they should be the ones with ultimate power.  Almost no one wants to… well, dismantle a flawed system and replace it with a better one.”

James scowled.  “No, that’s insane.”  He said.  “Someone should be… I mean, even if they’re misguided or not fully informed, there’s gotta be a ragtag group of plucky heroes.”

”You’ll hate… I said this already.”  JP shook his head, smoothing a hand over his damp hair.  “James the plucky group of heroes call themselves tyrants now.”

”…What?”

”Yeah.”  JP ignored the betrayed expression on James’ face as he turned to try to figure out where their food was, and was rewarded by catching the waitress behind the counter giving him a suspicious glare.  “You’re thinking to yourself, JP, my handsome and charismatic right hand-“

”I fucking am not.”

”-what do you mean they’re the good guys?  Do you endorse this kind of undemocratic action and especially the murders?”  JP finished, ignoring the interruption as he shifted on the slightly torn padding of the booth seat.

James had kind of been thinking that, yes.  “It just looks so normal here.”  He muttered.

”It’s worse than normal.”  JP grabbed a menu and slid it around to face James.  “Look.”

”Yeah, we already ordered.” James said, also wondering if he was going to get to eat anything today.  “What about it?”

”The prices.”  JP realized James had no frame of reference here.  “Everything is cheap.  One of their first big mind control decrees was locking in maximum profit margins, and subsidizing businesses with public benefit.”  He explained.  “It’s basically socialism.  But it’s more than that.  They didn’t kill democracy exactly.  There’s still local elections, there’s still people with all these responsibilities and authorities, there’s still cops, firefighter, garbage men, and EMTs, but all with British names.”

James opened his mouth to provide those names, and got pointed at until he gave a single huffed laugh and kept it to himself.  “Continue.”  He offered.

”The Tyrannies are being smart about this.  Hands off.  The thing is, the idea of a lot of these systems work just fine; these guys just ordered people, through absolute mind control, to do their government jobs properly, not take bribes, and not be racist.  And everyone did it.”

“The problem with dictatorships,” James grumbled, laying an arm across the sticky tabletop and leaning forward, “isn’t that this particular person has power.  It’s that you never know who you’re giving too much power to.”

”Sure.  Well, you won European Roulette.”  JP said with dark humor.  “We have here a seemingly benevolent dictatorship.  And this time, with the strange caveat that when the dictators die, the power vacuum is a little more literal.”

James snorted.  ”I know you don’t mean they’ll implode but I like to imagine.”

”I mean their Ranks won’t carry over.  This condition ends with them.  Until the next disaster, of course.”  JP flapped a hand like that was a given.  “Now, don’t get me wrong here.  I still think they’re… well, a problem at the very least.  But in a world where we’re dealing with dungeon breaches and pillars and Mormons and the Heard and good old fashioned normal mundane bigots?  You don’t want to waste your energy caring about this.”

The mind control, though, was something of a sticking point for James. “Oh but I really do.”  He said bitterly.  “Mental manipulation is a huge potential source of good.  But consent still matters.  It matters a lot.  Just because they caused a few million personal violations of the self instead of a more personal couple thousand doesn’t exempt them from my ire.”  He angrily told his friend, and anyone sitting nearby listening in.

“And yet you are taking it personally anyway.”  JP phrased it with the voice he used when he wasn’t willing to ask a question, but was trying to get someone to elaborate anyway.

It wasn’t that James liked JP trying to treat their conversations like a practice spar, but he did like having the etiquette skill ranks to recognize what his friend was doing so he could just eliminate his own confusion.  “I’m worried they look a lot like us.”  He told JP with a quietly voiced fear.

“They do look like the Order.”  JP shrugged.  “It isn’t one to one, obviously.  There’s one glaring difference.  But you’d fight a government if you had to.  You’d just rather build a government for fun.  And I don’t think you’d take one over unprompted.”

“Etain didn’t think it was unprompted, unless that was more manipulation like…” James stopped himself from giving away the game.  If they were being listened in on, he didn’t want the watchers to know that he and JP knew that the short conversation they’d caught the tail end of had been at least a little bit arranged for their benefit.  “Like her supposed opinion on borders.”  He finished instead.

Now it was JP’s turn to snort.  “Of course she doesn’t think it’s unprompted, she’s Irish.”

James scrunched up his face.  “JP, are you racist?”  He asked.

”James.”  His friend said with the voice you used on someone who had just said something very stupid.  “The British are racist.  On a national scale, for a long time now.  And if our lunch actually shows up, you’re going to get to sit there and get a very awkward history lesson for this part of the country.”

”Ooh, I love history!”

”Not for long you don’t.”  JP threatened him. “Because I’m going to use the word genocide a few times.”

Eventually, James did get to eat something.  Eventually he calmed down, too, if only because he was pretty sure there wasn’t much he could do to any of the Tyrannies or their squad of supporters as things were now.  And eventually he split off from JP and teleported home to where he felt like he could get something more productive done than just fuming.

Technically, it had been a productive day.  He knew a little more about the face of their opposition.  There was a real diplomatic channel open that hadn’t been there before.  And the Order, through JP’s social tactics, was positioning itself to get ahold of a lot of copyable Rank crystals.

But he still didn’t feel good about the situation.  Maybe the mass mind control wasn’t the literal worst case option.  Maybe.

But he didn’t have to like it.