Heretical Fishing
Author: Haylock
Book 5: Chapter 10: Collaboration
High above Prostheia, an empress exhaled slowly, doing what she could to calm her racing thoughts. She’d hoped it was all a terrible dream—a vivid nightmare whose impact would begin to fade the moment she awoke, becoming a distant memory by this late-afternoon hour.
No such luck.
As Aletheia extended her recently enhanced senses, scanning the words of her faithful below, her mood darkened still. They spoke of her ascension. Some sang—literally
—of the glory that House Veritus had bestowed upon the Kingdom of Light. One and all, their intensions were pure. Pious, even.
It made her sick.
None of them knew of the terrible discoveries. They were blessedly free of that burdensome knowledge, having neither witnessed the revival of ancient artifacts, nor heard Sven’s recounting of the events he’d seen—which, rather than provide illumination, had only further clouded the truth.
There really had been a spirit beast attack on the capital. And, in the dark ashes of that atrocity, an unknown cultivator had somehow come out on top.
…
Even thinking that name made bile rise in her throat. This should have been a week of celebration. She should be moving through the people atop a palanquin, casting the brilliant light of her breakthrough down each of Prostheia’s streets. Instead, she sat alone in her sleeping quarters, her mind and future cast in bitter shadow. She thrashed under the covers, frustration building until her eyes watered. It wasn’t fair. None of this was how it was supposed to be. She had succeeded, damn it!
So consumed were her thoughts that she sensed not Evan’s approach. The soft rap of knuckles on her chamber door twisted the blade of dread already stabbing her abdomen, making the anguish flare even brighter. She had ordered nobody to attend to her. For the head mage to defy her request? Something severe must have occurred.
“Come in,” an empress ordered.
But when Evan opened the door, his eyes were already red, his resolve on the verge of breaking. Disconnecting the latch had cancelled the chamber’s nullifying rituals, and the depth of his worries assaulted her, threatening to tear the mask free. He made to talk, but she stalled him with a raised hand. “Get a hold of yourself, Evan.”
, she didn’t add
Her most-trusted servant nodded, taking a moment to box in his doubts. “I apologize, Empress Veritus. I bring news.”
“Speak it.”
His chi wavered, threatening to spill, but he hammered the sides back into place. “Best you see for yourself, Empress.”
“The relics?”
Again, the brittle walls surrounding his core threatened to fall. “Yes, Empress.”
“Very well.” She stood, crossing her arms to ensure her hands didn’t shake. “Let us go.”
With each step she took through the castle, a bit of her composure returned. It would build, her physical movement through space making the future seem a little less bleak, then the reality of it all would crash back into her, knocking whole floors of optimism to the ground. It never quite cracked the foundation, however, for which she thanked the heavens.
“Did the screen light up last night, Evan? Hours before midnight?”
Genuine surprise leaked through the gaps between his walls. “Yes, Empress. You knew?”
“A hunch.” Her brand had tingled. She’d thought it a figment of her imagination. Evidently, it wasn’t. “Why did you not come straight to me? Someone was watching the artifacts, were they not?”
“We… we did not want to defy your orders, Empress.”
She cast a sidelong glance. He hadn’t bothered hiding the lie. Or perhaps he was no longer capable now that she’d successfully attained her divine ideal? “You used my words against me. You wanted to let me rest, and it was a convenient excuse.”
“Yes, Empress.”
“Did only some of you agree on this course of action, or was it unanimous?”
“Unanimous, Empress.”
“Never do it again,” ordered the mask, chin raised and eyes forward.
thought the woman behind it.
“Yes, Empress!” He dropped to a knee. “This I swear, on my soul and cultivation: I will never repeat such an error, lest I be unmade.” He was already upright before she could even think of stopping him.
The mask slipped; Aletheia slapped him on the back of the head. “Release that this instant, you idiot. I won’t have you dying the next time you make a mistake. I absolve you of your oath.”
Blinking, he let her strands of divine chi cast the words away. He clearly didn’t know she could do that. To be fair, she hadn’t either. Not for sure, anyway, though her instincts had assumed it possible. She allowed herself a small smile at the reminder of her newfound power over the universe—it was enough to override her many fears, if only temporarily. Then she slipped the mask back on.
Evan took a few hurried steps to catch up to her stride. “Yes, Empress. Thank you, Empress.”
Neither of them spoke as they climbed the last few stories. They passed more and more serving staff, each of whom radiated such reverence that Aletheia’s stomach twisted anew.
, she reminded herself. She was indistinguishable from the mask she wore.
Her nausea turned to glory as her ego burgeoned. She held onto that feeling with white-knuckled intensity, refusing to let go of the only thing keeping her afloat, no matter how unbecoming it might be.
The other mages must have heard or felt Evan’s oath; when they saw her enter the ritual chamber, they dropped to their knees—but this time, she was ready.
“No,” commanded the mask. All returned to their feet. Without preamble, the
strode to the screens, seeing the words from halfway across the room.
“That,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice, “was not what I expected.”
Neither was what happened next. The chamber faded, replaced by sentences that commanded her attention.
Despite completing one of heaven’s objectives and subsequently having her Domain evolve, Aletheia felt like she was falling into the abyss, the sun’s rays getting farther from reach with each passing moment.
She recalled the relic’s screen, its contents flashing in her mind’s eye as she tumbled into the void.
The information had been the third and final objective of the quest. It was even worse than Aletheia had imagined. A second god-tier ruler, aligned with the god-king and recognized by the heavens. One was bad enough, but
? How could she possibly hope to overcome such odds? She plunged deeper and deeper into the murky depths, the sun’s divine light becoming all but a memory.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
In that place of darkness, surrounded on all sides by the abyss, Aletheia realized just how close to the bottom she was. Her very ideal was being left behind. Within the span of a day, she’d been acknowledged by the heavens, then tossed aside, trash to be discarded. It had been a rollercoaster of emotions, her mind cycling through higher highs and lower lows than she’d fathomed possible. Despair settled on her sternum, forcing her farther from the light. An old emotion arrived, acidic and demanding consideration.
How
she be treated so? Was Aletheia not the divine bridge between heaven and the Kallis Realm? Was it not Aletheia’s face in all the visions? Her ideal responded, pulsing high above, flashing across her body the faintest glimmer of illumination. Of
.
The glimmer became a solid ray, which multiplied, dozens then hundreds of warm beams shining into and through her.
Those words, the sentences she had spoken to facilitate her breakthrough… they extended beyond her mistake of allowing Gormona’s rot to fester. Just as she’d let good intentions cause the razing of a kingdom, she was now letting her own thoughts destroy her purpose for existing.
So, beneath the divine light of the heavens, their brilliance once more acknowledging her, she cast aside what no longer served. A small part of her cried out, but it was in the same nattering voice she had no use of.
Fear, worry, doubt.
They lingered for a reason. Each was necessary for self-preservation, a remnant attribute of evolution that had ensured the survival of her ancestors. Such emotions were undoubtedly human—which Aletheia was not.
All at once, everything clicked into place. Of course the heavens had shared with her the existence of these detestable upstarts.
… they probably thought themselves on the path to godhood, only a short distance from sitting atop the empty throne high above. Aletheia knew the truth; they were sent to test her. They were nothing more than obstacles created for her to overcome. A final challenge for her to conquer. For what was light without shadow?
without
?
That incessant part of herself rallied one last time, desperately clawing its way up her throat, trying to rip the regal mask from Aletheia’s face.
She burned the voice away, her divine illumination leaving neither nook nor cranny for such obsolete sentiments to sequester within. The mask, too, was gone. No longer would she need to take it off or put it on—it had become a part of her. Aletheia transcended that bleak pit, drawn ever upwards by golden light. She opened her eyes to find the ritual room aglow with glorious radiance.
No longer hiding behind a mask, the empress spoke, giving voice to a title. All across the city, her faithful repeated it, tears in their eyes as they screamed it, making it so. She didn’t need to gaze upon the relic to know the words visible on its screen, but she did so anyway. Such was her right as empress.
she thought, the artifact confirming what she’d already perceived.
Beneath the late-afternoon sun, I paused mid-step as an odd tingling hit the god-king mark on my core. Curiosity bloomed, but then decided I had more important things to do. The anomalous feeling on my soul was all but forgotten as I stretched my arms towards the sky, soaking in the sensations of warmth, taut muscles, and a cool breeze gusting from the east.
“Agreed,” Maria said, having also felt and discarded the unexplained tingle in favor of a good stretch. We were both so lost in the bliss that we bumped into each other, motor skills momentarily absent.
“Well, well, well,” interrupted a booming voice. “Look who finally—”
Duncan cut off with a grunt as a gelatinous form slammed him to the cobbled street. “Hiiii! He was about to say something silly! I took the liberty of flattening him!”
“Thank you, Slimes” Maria replied, holding out a hand that her familiar leaped onto, wobbling in delight as he disappeared into her body and merged with her core.
“I regret nothing,” Duncan groaned, sounding rather regretful despite claiming otherwise.
Beside him, Fergus shook his head. “Forgive me.”
“It’s hardly your fault, mate.”
“I encouraged his oddities, Fischer. I hoped to foster out-of-the-box thinking, assuming it could lead to creative innovation…”
“Bullshit,” Duncan wheezed, dusting off his clothes as he stood. “You’re even more of a jokester than I am. You should hear the things he says in priv—”
“Ow! What was that for?”
“For running your trap, you cheeky git. Run along back to the workshop. If we leave Claws and that damnable raccoon alone too long, there won’t be a smithy to return to.”
“She’s taken up smithing?” Maria asked.
Fergus snorted and shoved Duncan, firm but without ill-intent, sending him stumbling off in the direction of their building. “If by ‘taken up smithing’ you mean zipping around the workshop, watching everyone a little too closely, and only stopping her familiar from stealing half the tools he tries to pocket, then sure, she has taken up the profession.”
“She’s just… watching?
?”
“
,” Fergus quoted, twisting his burly mouth into a grin approximating hers, complete with a tilt of the head and slightly crazed eyes.
“Damn, mate—that’s actually a really good impression.”
“Thanks. I’ve had all day to brush up on that devious little rat’s expressions.”
“How has it been otherwise? I can sense a
of cores that way.”
This grin was genuine. “We have more apprentices than any other profession. Ellis’s speech yesterday morning lit a fire under the entire village, and most gravitated our way.”
“Really? That’s wonderful, mate. What are they all working on?”
“Perhaps you should come see it for yourself. Have a moment?”
Maria and I shared a look, both too curious to turn it down. She nodded. “Lead the way, dearest smith! The god-king and his wife wish to assess your workshop’s, er,
!”
Even before we reached the crossroads that led to the smithy, the sounds of its workers rang out, echoing off the empty streets. The rhythmic clang of metal on metal might have been annoying for some, but he noise reminded me of the various projects I’d worked on with the smiths, making a sense of calm wash over me as I recalled the Zen-like state operating the bellows used to gift me.
It was like finding an old friend on your doorstep, and I couldn’t help but smile at the unexpected arrival. But then another friend came from behind, shoulder-checked the Zen-like bellows, and exploded the metaphorical doorstep into a million splinters.
Corporal Claws had sensed my distraction. She seized the opportunity, flying out, loading her lips with potent chi, and planting a kiss right on my forehead. The weak jolt of electricity zapped my brain. Grinning at me like the maniac she was, Claws squeezed my cheeks together and pressed the top of her noggin against my forced pout, making me smooch her back.
She retreated back into the smithy on an arc of lightning, her head swivelling like an owl so I never lost sight of her cheeky smile.
I shook my body to dispel the lingering current and strode forward to peer through the workshop’s double doors. Claws hadn’t stopped moving. She zipped around, eyeing the dozens of humans lining workstations. There was a moment of confusion when I spied what they were creating, but when I noticed the object mounted on a far wall, I realized what they were trying to emulate.
A third of the building’s occupants were crowded around one of five furnaces. The person holding their attention removed a glowing chunk of metal with giant tongs. The gathering parted, letting her move to an anvil. She held the metal in place and raised a massive hammer overhead, preparing to strike.
I cleared my throat. “Bonnie?”
“Huh? Oh! Hey, Fischer!”
I waved to gesture at the room. “Is this your doing?”
“Is what my—
! A little no, a little yes. Chat later.” She turned back to the anvil, glancing up at apprentices watching her. “You give it a good ol’ smack right here, see? Keep spinnin’, keep smackin’. Only return it to the furnace when it’s as long as your forearm.”
I blinked at the swift dismissal, confusion rising only to be washed away by relief. Between Claws and Bonnie, I had at least two friends who wouldn’t start treating me differently—no matter the strength I attained.
“It wasn’t her idea,” Fergus elaborated, also smiling at the intensity on Bonnie’s face. “I hung the winch as a trophy of sorts, and when the rest of the apprentices learned it was created by a novice…? Well, it gave them a goal. Something to aim for.”
I peered around the room, looking at the workstations manned by fledgeling smiths. All were producing long lengths of metal that tapered off to one end. Duncan supervised, his gaze serious, his lackadaisical demeanor forgotten. In the far corner, a small stack of completed winches were piled atop a bench. I pointed at them.
“Why aren’t there any reels? Did they give up, or…?”
Fergus’s eyes twinkled in delight. “Not at all. Follow me.” He led us from the building.
As we approached the structure next door, I cocked my head at the sounds coming from the building.
“We decided to make it a group project of sorts,” Fergus said, gesturing with one hand for us to look inside.
I already knew what we’d find, but that didn’t stop a wide smile from splitting my face as I saw the woodworkers. There were almost as many apprentices working the stations here as there had been in the smithy. They were in the early stages of crafting reels. Unlike next door, varied materials were in use, some opting for pine, others for hardwood.
“Ho, Fischer!” Brad called, which his brother Greg echoed even louder.
“I’ve told you guys not to call me that.” I shot them a wink. “Not in public, anyway.”
They snapped off rigid salutes. “Yes, god-king!”
“On second thought, maybe the former was bett—”
“No,” Maria interrupted. “Don’t even joke about it.”
“Yes, god-queen!” I mirrored the woodworkers’ salutes. “Forgive me!” She gave me a warning glare, which only made me laugh. “Ohhhh, so
don’t like being that, huh?”
Her glare deepened. “No comment.”
“Noted, God-Queen!” the brothers yelled, their bodies stiffer than the firmest of planks. “You hate being called god-queen,
!”
Maria responded with a sickly sweet smile that turned saccharine as she extended a hand, palm up, a certain familiar jiggling out of it.
Before they could respond to the wordless threat, a pulse of chi suddenly came from the east, then a cacophonous droning shook the world. The Buzzy Boys, one of which was just outside, vibrated a warning. I whirled eastward, my senses exploding toward the coast.
A moment later, Teddy roared in fury, the primal sound breaching my defenses and boring into the center of my soul.
No such luck.
As Aletheia extended her recently enhanced senses, scanning the words of her faithful below, her mood darkened still. They spoke of her ascension. Some sang—literally
—of the glory that House Veritus had bestowed upon the Kingdom of Light. One and all, their intensions were pure. Pious, even.
It made her sick.
None of them knew of the terrible discoveries. They were blessedly free of that burdensome knowledge, having neither witnessed the revival of ancient artifacts, nor heard Sven’s recounting of the events he’d seen—which, rather than provide illumination, had only further clouded the truth.
There really had been a spirit beast attack on the capital. And, in the dark ashes of that atrocity, an unknown cultivator had somehow come out on top.
…
Even thinking that name made bile rise in her throat. This should have been a week of celebration. She should be moving through the people atop a palanquin, casting the brilliant light of her breakthrough down each of Prostheia’s streets. Instead, she sat alone in her sleeping quarters, her mind and future cast in bitter shadow. She thrashed under the covers, frustration building until her eyes watered. It wasn’t fair. None of this was how it was supposed to be. She had succeeded, damn it!
So consumed were her thoughts that she sensed not Evan’s approach. The soft rap of knuckles on her chamber door twisted the blade of dread already stabbing her abdomen, making the anguish flare even brighter. She had ordered nobody to attend to her. For the head mage to defy her request? Something severe must have occurred.
“Come in,” an empress ordered.
But when Evan opened the door, his eyes were already red, his resolve on the verge of breaking. Disconnecting the latch had cancelled the chamber’s nullifying rituals, and the depth of his worries assaulted her, threatening to tear the mask free. He made to talk, but she stalled him with a raised hand. “Get a hold of yourself, Evan.”
, she didn’t add
Her most-trusted servant nodded, taking a moment to box in his doubts. “I apologize, Empress Veritus. I bring news.”
“Speak it.”
His chi wavered, threatening to spill, but he hammered the sides back into place. “Best you see for yourself, Empress.”
“The relics?”
Again, the brittle walls surrounding his core threatened to fall. “Yes, Empress.”
“Very well.” She stood, crossing her arms to ensure her hands didn’t shake. “Let us go.”
With each step she took through the castle, a bit of her composure returned. It would build, her physical movement through space making the future seem a little less bleak, then the reality of it all would crash back into her, knocking whole floors of optimism to the ground. It never quite cracked the foundation, however, for which she thanked the heavens.
“Did the screen light up last night, Evan? Hours before midnight?”
Genuine surprise leaked through the gaps between his walls. “Yes, Empress. You knew?”
“A hunch.” Her brand had tingled. She’d thought it a figment of her imagination. Evidently, it wasn’t. “Why did you not come straight to me? Someone was watching the artifacts, were they not?”
“We… we did not want to defy your orders, Empress.”
She cast a sidelong glance. He hadn’t bothered hiding the lie. Or perhaps he was no longer capable now that she’d successfully attained her divine ideal? “You used my words against me. You wanted to let me rest, and it was a convenient excuse.”
“Yes, Empress.”
“Did only some of you agree on this course of action, or was it unanimous?”
“Unanimous, Empress.”
“Never do it again,” ordered the mask, chin raised and eyes forward.
thought the woman behind it.
“Yes, Empress!” He dropped to a knee. “This I swear, on my soul and cultivation: I will never repeat such an error, lest I be unmade.” He was already upright before she could even think of stopping him.
The mask slipped; Aletheia slapped him on the back of the head. “Release that this instant, you idiot. I won’t have you dying the next time you make a mistake. I absolve you of your oath.”
Blinking, he let her strands of divine chi cast the words away. He clearly didn’t know she could do that. To be fair, she hadn’t either. Not for sure, anyway, though her instincts had assumed it possible. She allowed herself a small smile at the reminder of her newfound power over the universe—it was enough to override her many fears, if only temporarily. Then she slipped the mask back on.
Evan took a few hurried steps to catch up to her stride. “Yes, Empress. Thank you, Empress.”
Neither of them spoke as they climbed the last few stories. They passed more and more serving staff, each of whom radiated such reverence that Aletheia’s stomach twisted anew.
, she reminded herself. She was indistinguishable from the mask she wore.
Her nausea turned to glory as her ego burgeoned. She held onto that feeling with white-knuckled intensity, refusing to let go of the only thing keeping her afloat, no matter how unbecoming it might be.
The other mages must have heard or felt Evan’s oath; when they saw her enter the ritual chamber, they dropped to their knees—but this time, she was ready.
“No,” commanded the mask. All returned to their feet. Without preamble, the
strode to the screens, seeing the words from halfway across the room.
“That,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice, “was not what I expected.”
Neither was what happened next. The chamber faded, replaced by sentences that commanded her attention.
Despite completing one of heaven’s objectives and subsequently having her Domain evolve, Aletheia felt like she was falling into the abyss, the sun’s rays getting farther from reach with each passing moment.
She recalled the relic’s screen, its contents flashing in her mind’s eye as she tumbled into the void.
The information had been the third and final objective of the quest. It was even worse than Aletheia had imagined. A second god-tier ruler, aligned with the god-king and recognized by the heavens. One was bad enough, but
? How could she possibly hope to overcome such odds? She plunged deeper and deeper into the murky depths, the sun’s divine light becoming all but a memory.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
In that place of darkness, surrounded on all sides by the abyss, Aletheia realized just how close to the bottom she was. Her very ideal was being left behind. Within the span of a day, she’d been acknowledged by the heavens, then tossed aside, trash to be discarded. It had been a rollercoaster of emotions, her mind cycling through higher highs and lower lows than she’d fathomed possible. Despair settled on her sternum, forcing her farther from the light. An old emotion arrived, acidic and demanding consideration.
How
she be treated so? Was Aletheia not the divine bridge between heaven and the Kallis Realm? Was it not Aletheia’s face in all the visions? Her ideal responded, pulsing high above, flashing across her body the faintest glimmer of illumination. Of
.
The glimmer became a solid ray, which multiplied, dozens then hundreds of warm beams shining into and through her.
Those words, the sentences she had spoken to facilitate her breakthrough… they extended beyond her mistake of allowing Gormona’s rot to fester. Just as she’d let good intentions cause the razing of a kingdom, she was now letting her own thoughts destroy her purpose for existing.
So, beneath the divine light of the heavens, their brilliance once more acknowledging her, she cast aside what no longer served. A small part of her cried out, but it was in the same nattering voice she had no use of.
Fear, worry, doubt.
They lingered for a reason. Each was necessary for self-preservation, a remnant attribute of evolution that had ensured the survival of her ancestors. Such emotions were undoubtedly human—which Aletheia was not.
All at once, everything clicked into place. Of course the heavens had shared with her the existence of these detestable upstarts.
… they probably thought themselves on the path to godhood, only a short distance from sitting atop the empty throne high above. Aletheia knew the truth; they were sent to test her. They were nothing more than obstacles created for her to overcome. A final challenge for her to conquer. For what was light without shadow?
without
?
That incessant part of herself rallied one last time, desperately clawing its way up her throat, trying to rip the regal mask from Aletheia’s face.
She burned the voice away, her divine illumination leaving neither nook nor cranny for such obsolete sentiments to sequester within. The mask, too, was gone. No longer would she need to take it off or put it on—it had become a part of her. Aletheia transcended that bleak pit, drawn ever upwards by golden light. She opened her eyes to find the ritual room aglow with glorious radiance.
No longer hiding behind a mask, the empress spoke, giving voice to a title. All across the city, her faithful repeated it, tears in their eyes as they screamed it, making it so. She didn’t need to gaze upon the relic to know the words visible on its screen, but she did so anyway. Such was her right as empress.
she thought, the artifact confirming what she’d already perceived.
Beneath the late-afternoon sun, I paused mid-step as an odd tingling hit the god-king mark on my core. Curiosity bloomed, but then decided I had more important things to do. The anomalous feeling on my soul was all but forgotten as I stretched my arms towards the sky, soaking in the sensations of warmth, taut muscles, and a cool breeze gusting from the east.
“Agreed,” Maria said, having also felt and discarded the unexplained tingle in favor of a good stretch. We were both so lost in the bliss that we bumped into each other, motor skills momentarily absent.
“Well, well, well,” interrupted a booming voice. “Look who finally—”
Duncan cut off with a grunt as a gelatinous form slammed him to the cobbled street. “Hiiii! He was about to say something silly! I took the liberty of flattening him!”
“Thank you, Slimes” Maria replied, holding out a hand that her familiar leaped onto, wobbling in delight as he disappeared into her body and merged with her core.
“I regret nothing,” Duncan groaned, sounding rather regretful despite claiming otherwise.
Beside him, Fergus shook his head. “Forgive me.”
“It’s hardly your fault, mate.”
“I encouraged his oddities, Fischer. I hoped to foster out-of-the-box thinking, assuming it could lead to creative innovation…”
“Bullshit,” Duncan wheezed, dusting off his clothes as he stood. “You’re even more of a jokester than I am. You should hear the things he says in priv—”
“Ow! What was that for?”
“For running your trap, you cheeky git. Run along back to the workshop. If we leave Claws and that damnable raccoon alone too long, there won’t be a smithy to return to.”
“She’s taken up smithing?” Maria asked.
Fergus snorted and shoved Duncan, firm but without ill-intent, sending him stumbling off in the direction of their building. “If by ‘taken up smithing’ you mean zipping around the workshop, watching everyone a little too closely, and only stopping her familiar from stealing half the tools he tries to pocket, then sure, she has taken up the profession.”
“She’s just… watching?
?”
“
,” Fergus quoted, twisting his burly mouth into a grin approximating hers, complete with a tilt of the head and slightly crazed eyes.
“Damn, mate—that’s actually a really good impression.”
“Thanks. I’ve had all day to brush up on that devious little rat’s expressions.”
“How has it been otherwise? I can sense a
of cores that way.”
This grin was genuine. “We have more apprentices than any other profession. Ellis’s speech yesterday morning lit a fire under the entire village, and most gravitated our way.”
“Really? That’s wonderful, mate. What are they all working on?”
“Perhaps you should come see it for yourself. Have a moment?”
Maria and I shared a look, both too curious to turn it down. She nodded. “Lead the way, dearest smith! The god-king and his wife wish to assess your workshop’s, er,
!”
Even before we reached the crossroads that led to the smithy, the sounds of its workers rang out, echoing off the empty streets. The rhythmic clang of metal on metal might have been annoying for some, but he noise reminded me of the various projects I’d worked on with the smiths, making a sense of calm wash over me as I recalled the Zen-like state operating the bellows used to gift me.
It was like finding an old friend on your doorstep, and I couldn’t help but smile at the unexpected arrival. But then another friend came from behind, shoulder-checked the Zen-like bellows, and exploded the metaphorical doorstep into a million splinters.
Corporal Claws had sensed my distraction. She seized the opportunity, flying out, loading her lips with potent chi, and planting a kiss right on my forehead. The weak jolt of electricity zapped my brain. Grinning at me like the maniac she was, Claws squeezed my cheeks together and pressed the top of her noggin against my forced pout, making me smooch her back.
She retreated back into the smithy on an arc of lightning, her head swivelling like an owl so I never lost sight of her cheeky smile.
I shook my body to dispel the lingering current and strode forward to peer through the workshop’s double doors. Claws hadn’t stopped moving. She zipped around, eyeing the dozens of humans lining workstations. There was a moment of confusion when I spied what they were creating, but when I noticed the object mounted on a far wall, I realized what they were trying to emulate.
A third of the building’s occupants were crowded around one of five furnaces. The person holding their attention removed a glowing chunk of metal with giant tongs. The gathering parted, letting her move to an anvil. She held the metal in place and raised a massive hammer overhead, preparing to strike.
I cleared my throat. “Bonnie?”
“Huh? Oh! Hey, Fischer!”
I waved to gesture at the room. “Is this your doing?”
“Is what my—
! A little no, a little yes. Chat later.” She turned back to the anvil, glancing up at apprentices watching her. “You give it a good ol’ smack right here, see? Keep spinnin’, keep smackin’. Only return it to the furnace when it’s as long as your forearm.”
I blinked at the swift dismissal, confusion rising only to be washed away by relief. Between Claws and Bonnie, I had at least two friends who wouldn’t start treating me differently—no matter the strength I attained.
“It wasn’t her idea,” Fergus elaborated, also smiling at the intensity on Bonnie’s face. “I hung the winch as a trophy of sorts, and when the rest of the apprentices learned it was created by a novice…? Well, it gave them a goal. Something to aim for.”
I peered around the room, looking at the workstations manned by fledgeling smiths. All were producing long lengths of metal that tapered off to one end. Duncan supervised, his gaze serious, his lackadaisical demeanor forgotten. In the far corner, a small stack of completed winches were piled atop a bench. I pointed at them.
“Why aren’t there any reels? Did they give up, or…?”
Fergus’s eyes twinkled in delight. “Not at all. Follow me.” He led us from the building.
As we approached the structure next door, I cocked my head at the sounds coming from the building.
“We decided to make it a group project of sorts,” Fergus said, gesturing with one hand for us to look inside.
I already knew what we’d find, but that didn’t stop a wide smile from splitting my face as I saw the woodworkers. There were almost as many apprentices working the stations here as there had been in the smithy. They were in the early stages of crafting reels. Unlike next door, varied materials were in use, some opting for pine, others for hardwood.
“Ho, Fischer!” Brad called, which his brother Greg echoed even louder.
“I’ve told you guys not to call me that.” I shot them a wink. “Not in public, anyway.”
They snapped off rigid salutes. “Yes, god-king!”
“On second thought, maybe the former was bett—”
“No,” Maria interrupted. “Don’t even joke about it.”
“Yes, god-queen!” I mirrored the woodworkers’ salutes. “Forgive me!” She gave me a warning glare, which only made me laugh. “Ohhhh, so
don’t like being that, huh?”
Her glare deepened. “No comment.”
“Noted, God-Queen!” the brothers yelled, their bodies stiffer than the firmest of planks. “You hate being called god-queen,
!”
Maria responded with a sickly sweet smile that turned saccharine as she extended a hand, palm up, a certain familiar jiggling out of it.
Before they could respond to the wordless threat, a pulse of chi suddenly came from the east, then a cacophonous droning shook the world. The Buzzy Boys, one of which was just outside, vibrated a warning. I whirled eastward, my senses exploding toward the coast.
A moment later, Teddy roared in fury, the primal sound breaching my defenses and boring into the center of my soul.