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“The Sovereign Cities have been called that since the time of the Sundering,” Kirginatharp said, “Though tracing the actual history of the Cities is more like tracing a dotted line done in a hundred different colors, each color calling itself the Sovereign Cities, but each actually being a different people and culture entirely.”

“I don’t need to know the whole history.” Erick said, “I need to know if this current batch of warmongers is going to fall upon me and mine like zealots, and what that means, exactly.”

The Wizard of Benevolence and the Second to Rozeta met in one of the nicer rooms of House Benevolence. The sun held high in the sky, and it wouldn’t be moving for a while, since the (arguably) most powerful mortal dragons in the world were inside a [Hasted Shelter].

The declaration of war from the Sovereign Cities had arrived a few hours ago. And now, Erick was talking with one of the few people who had a deep history with the Cities, who was able to give a clear and precise judgment upon the whole lot of people over there, two mountain ranges west and a bit north of Candlepoint.

Kirginatharp said, “You do need to know the whole history, though, if you are to navigate this horror that has landed on your lap.”

“Now that right there. That is something I’m eager to know. Why am I dealing with this shit storm? Why hasn’t anyone else turned the Sovereign Cities into a wasteland? They’re mostly human, so shouldn’t the Quiet War have turned them into a crater long before now? Especially with the Wasteland Kingdoms so close?”

Kirginatharp looked at Erick and frowned.

Erick frowned right back at him, saying, “Don’t give me that look. It’s utterly ridiculous that the Cities have been allowed to exist at all.”

Kirginatharp sighed, as though he had experienced this conversation a thousand times already. “What would you have me do, Erick? Impose my will upon the world? Ensure nothing bad ever happens to anyone else, ever again? I am just one man, trying to do the best I can. I am not a god. I am certainly not a well-disposed Wizard. And even if I were any of those things, it would be wrong of me to impose my will on those who cannot stop me.”

“What about when ‘those who cannot stop you’ are the same people who have declared war on you? Threatening to kill everyone you love and have tried to help, and to burn down Oceanside in the process?”

Kirginatharp frowned a little, then said, “They tried to do that to me, too.” With golden eyes, Kirginatharp said, “This is a story I don’t want you spreading around, so I would have your confidence before I divulge this tale.”

“I will not tell anyone what you tell me unless I deem this information crucial to saving lives—” Before Kirginatharp could complain, Erick added, “— and even then, I won’t tell anyone unless it is absolutely necessary.”

Kirginatharp seemed fine with that arrangement. He began, “My current stance with the Cities began out of old arrangements that need not be repeated, but which, about 300 years ago, ended up thusly:

“Every single bargain of trade I had enacted with every single ruling house, clan, parliament, and individual power of the Cities, had lapsed, because, for the hundred years prior to that, none of the inheritors of those bargains were willing to do the reforms I required of them in order to reinstate those bargains. At that time, the final bargain of trade held by the Cities was held by Pearl. And then Pearl closed its Oceanside-approved arcanaeum, killing three teachers in the process, and severed that final tie.

“All the Cities, of course, demanded that I continue to fend off all the major monsters, while also throwing rotten vegetables at all my Elites, and openly singing horrible songs of how I consorted with—” Kirginatharp’s calm facade cracked, as his eyes glowed gold and his years fell away, revealing the furious Second to Rozeta for a brief moment— And then he calmed himself again. “They sang awful songs about me, personally. They are likely doing the same against you, right now, as we speak. Burning effigies, too.

“When I told them what was required for them to regain their bargains of trade, which I had been telling all of them for the last hundred years, they all refused, demanding that I kowtow to them, and that they didn’t need me, and that my magic was evil, and how it was useless, and that I was demanding too much of them, and… So on and so forth. They are an absolutely infuriating people to deal with, Erick.

“And so, they thought that, because I would not kowtow, and because I would not bend in my requirements, that I was at war with them. So they sent me a formal letter of war like the one you got.” Kirginatharp said, “My requirements to reinstate my bargains of trade were rather simple. One, have one open and publicly accessible registrar per hundred thousand people, which is the bare minimum, by the way. A much better number is 1 registrar per 10,000 people. For a place like Oceanside, that number is 1 per 1,000 people. Two, an Arcanaeum Consortium place of learning must be established in every major city, or at least one in whatever city wishes to reenact the bargain. And Three, to cease killing people who have Matriculated outside of noble control.”

“… All very reasonable. Which means it didn’t work.”

“It worked for a while, actually!” Kirginatharp smiled a fraction, and then he lost that smile. “The bargains were restored, and while my Elites killed major threats to the land, the Cities ‘tried’ to enact my requests. They did not actually try at all, of course. This all came to a head 3 years after that agreement, as all three of my bargains were mutilated in different ways.

“Of the first part: Getting the registrars would take time, so I gave them 5 years to enact that full transformation, but by the end of the first year, I required them to have at least 1 open registrar in every major city. Three years into the new bargains, they had yet to meet the first year requirements, but what was worse is how those small measures of compliance were followed.

“Every single open registrar, of which there were only 4, had their offices in the main town squares. Killtree, Charme, Curio North, and Pearl had complied, while Curio South said that since North Curio was part of South Curio, that they were also complying, but without really needing to actually comply.

“The Curios pull a lot of shit like that, by the way. They pretend to be a single city when it suits them, like with requirements to receive international aid, and two cities when it suits them, like for how much aid should be given. Watch out for that when you deal with them.

“That failure to properly comply with registrar demands was not even the worst part, though! People were able to Matriculate, but if those people weren’t signed up for an army at the same time, or operating under a noble, then those people were usually found executed by noble command, with their bodies spread everywhere across their former homes, and their heads on spikes inside the Executioner Halls, where the nobility displays the heads of those who break the law.”

Erick’s mood darkened. It was already rather dark, but it got worse.

Kirginatharp mirrored Erick’s mood, and continued, “Of my second requirement: The arcanaeums I demanded be built were built, but only the nobles were taught. A few commoners qualified to attend classes, because I locked down that shit as soon as I found out what they were doing. But it wasn’t till year 3 that I discovered that several of my teachers had been face stolen in response to my demand to teach the commoners, and that those impostors were teaching the commoners in ways that would get them killed. Telling the kids to play around with [Cleanse] was a favored tactic.” Kirginatharp said, “By these two mutilations of my bargains, they had automatically failed the third requirement, which was to stop killing people who Matriculate outside of noble control.”

Erick sighed. “What was your response to all that?”

“I murdered every single person responsible, Erick.”

Like a wave of cooling relief on a hot summer day, Erick felt better.

He felt better about everything.

Because he knew, in that moment, that he would need to do a lot of killing himself.

“It was a complicated campaign, of course,” Kirginatharp continued, “A few of my Elites helped me to locate the greatest perpetrators of evil in those lands and I removed those people from power. In some cases I went ten people deep, pulling out the decayed nobility by their roots. It was a thing I am still proud of to this day, because the aftermath of that murdering was like trimming a horribly overgrown tree.

“The level of corruption in those governments dropped to a level not seen in a hundred years. I managed to enact my bargains of trade with some different nobility… But, in my zeal, I went too far. The Shades realized what I was doing over there. Two years after I began cleaning the Cities up, and though there would be many, many more years of that necessary, the Shades gave me an ultimatum, as they usually did. If I left the Cities to their own devices, they would allow whatever I had done already to continue. If I fought them on this, then they would fight me.

“I chose to leave the Cities alone.

“Two years of cleanup had to be enough.

“15 years later, everything I had tried to do was undone, and though I know the Shades were partially responsible, the Shades were not wholly to blame. Violence rarely is the proper way to solve governmental issues, and while I knew this long before then, it is a lesson I have had to learn many, many times.

“At that time, I learned this lesson in this way: I occasionally looked in on the important meetings of the Cities, and when world events conspired to put the Cities anywhere near those events, I paid special attention to those places. I even looked in on some of the smaller, unimportant happenings within the Cities, like decisions of how much [Cleanse] they would allow a city to use in their sewers.

“And though the Shades were involved in one of those —which I know of, for certain— the Shades were not involved in all of them.

“Sometimes the people of the Cities made the right choices; they chose compassion, etcetera.

“But all too often, the people of the Sovereign Cities made the wrong choice. That example about [Cleanse] in the sewers? They voted on ‘none’, because to allow the open use of [Cleanse] meant that the sewermaster would be making money off of the rads they collected— Which I believe they should, of course. But now that the sewermaster could not make a living at his job, with no incentive to stay, the sewermaster quit, and that place had oozes within the month. A hundred people died, Erick. All because a handful of nobles in power voted for violence.” Kirginatharp breathed, centering himself before he got angry again. He continued, “My Elites cleaned up that mess and then pressured the people on the ‘no [Cleanse]’ side of that vote to vote the other way, tilting the vote back in favor of the sewermaster being able to do his job. That guy went back to work and was found guilty of falsified crimes, so he was executed by Charme and his head collected for the Executioner’s Hall.

“The whole reason that group of nobles had voted to disallow the collection of rads through [Cleanse] was because one of them was moving in to take over the sewermaster’s job. Once that person had gotten that job, there would then be a re-vote. [Cleanse] would be allowed again, and that person would then be collecting all those rads themselves. There had been bribes all around in order to make that happen.

“And a hundred people died in the interim.”

Erick’s rage almost blinded him. He shuddered. “… Ahh. That’s pretty… bad.” Erick had a lot more words than that, but he could not string them together at the moment.

Kirginatharp sat silently, too.

“There is a face stealer problem over there.” Erick asked, “How do you think they would respond if I offered them my anti-face-stealer services?”

“They would find reasons for all their enemies to be guilty and none of their friends to be guilty, and they might be right, or they might be face stealers themselves. In my opinion, that is a quagmire that you do not want to step into.” Kirginatharp said, “If you find a noble that has murdered people for their own gain, then simply murder them right back. It is the only way to be sure.”

Erick nodded once, taking that information in, and then he asked, “How about the Dragon Stalkers? How do they fit into this?”

“Ah. Well. That’s a much larger conversation that we need to have some other day.” Kirginatharp glanced around, then turned back to Erick. “Or we could stay in this [Hasted Shelter] for a few hours?”

“I’m fine with hours, but let’s keep to the strategic level; no need to go into tactics or individuals right now, unless they are necessary to know.”

Kirginatharp nodded once. “The Dragon Stalkers were originally a group of zealots conceived in the Sovereign Cities over a thousand years ago, who murdered both parents of dragonkin children, and then the children themselves. They were proponents of the Sovereign Ethnostate; a fully human Veird— almost all of the Cities are human. The Stalkers changed over time to eventually include every race of people, including dragonkin themselves, for dragons are a large problem the world over, due to the Curse. But without the Curse, then dragons would rule the world.

“The Stalkers hate me, because I am a dragon, but they work with me to keep the world clear of dragons.

“They hate you, too, perhaps even more than me and for a grab bag of reasons, but mostly because everything is changing, and our old solutions to old problems now have new solutions. They’ll probably have a schism in their ‘faith’ in the next ten years if everything you’re doing actually works, for a lot of them have recently taken up a new option: They’re calling for every dragon you Benevolence to be cursed with infertility, thus ensuring that no new eggs and no new dragons are born to spread more wyrms and more dragons into the world.

“Which brings me to another problem. Perhaps you should consider this sort of cursing; we don’t need more wyrms in the world. I would like it if there wasn’t even a wyrm season at all next year.” Kirginatharp asked, “Unless your Benevolence Dragons breed true?”

Erick wasn’t sure how to even begin to reply. “… There are so many things you just said which are… Baffling to me— Infertility? Really? But…” Erick frowned.

Kirginatharp said, “Perhaps we should avoid that nest of concern for now. The war with the Cities is more pressing.”

Erick blinked a bit, then asked, “So killing every noble in charge and running through the nation, executing every face stealer I find… Is the proper solution, if I can keep it up and continue to ensure that the Cities transforms into a better sort of place.”

“Theoretically, yes, and since you don’t have the Shades and Melemizargo trying to tear down everything you build, it might actually work. It will take time, though. If you are the biggest power over there, and if you make them listen to you, they will reluctantly do so. You won’t get through to the current generation, or the next generation, but perhaps, with 60 years of direct oversight, that land will change.”

“Well that’s not happening. So how about I [Blessing of Empathy] all the nobility?”

Kirginatharp instantly said, “They will be violently replaced within a month. Some sooner.”

“And if I continue to Bless whoever is in charge?”

Kirginatharp breathed in a bit, taking his time to think. He looked upon Erick with golden eyes. He said, “It might be the best solution, but there are concerns. Several immediate concerns. Many more long term concerns that might not happen.

“Firstly, the people you initially Bless will be executed by others hoping to become nobility through murder. This will be difficult for you to overcome, but if you set aside your concerns for human life, if you don’t care about losing some of the Blessed nobility as they are executed when you’re not looking, then you can Bless most of the nobility.

“This will mean open war, though.

“Which brings me to the second major concern. If open war happens then the Cities will attack Candlepoint and the Gate District and every part of everything you love and care for. You will lose people. But maybe not. Quilatalap is here —which is something I still think you are foolish for pursuing— so he can [True Resurrection] people for you. You and I will not be having that debate, for I am telling you now that every single person he resurrects will have their bank accounts frozen and they will be expunged from their old lives. You can make them new lives if you wish, but they will not be getting their old lives back; in this, I have already decided.”

So that was the line Kirginatharp was not willing to cross.

This was…

This was fine.

“… Reluctantly accepted.”

Kirginatharp eyed Erick for a moment. “Thank you, Erick, for accepting that.

“Along that same concern, though: Since we are allies, I will be devoting forces to your cause, should war happen and should you accept those forces on your lands. Hopefully with enough Elites then there will be fewer deaths. I expect Stratagold and Ar’Cosmos to do the same. Perhaps the people you have here in Weald will be enough? I don’t know about that, though.”

Erick felt a twinge of relief. “I accept your offer of Elites. I would ask them to defend this land while I go and make war, then, if open war should happen. Thank you.”

Kirginatharp smiled a little. “I have enough Elites to do both, Erick.”

Erick nodded.

Kirginatharp continued, “The third major concern ties into the retaliation of the Cities: they have Elites, too, and their kings and their queen all have Domain magic. That magic is the only reason why they are the royalty over there, for it was only through their own personal power that they managed to ascend to real power. But they have others who encroach on their power all the time. I estimate that there are about 20 Domain holders over there. Most of them are archwarriors, though Queen Pearl is a mage.

“Queen Pearl, mage, Exalted Domain, follower of her family’s Exalted Angelic Path.

“King Xaro, warrior of South Curio, Air Domain, follower of the Thieving Hand.

“King Sook, warrior of North Curio, Ocean Domain, follower of the Crushing Depths.

“King Charme, warrior, Blood Domain, Father of Princes, and a former Prince himself.

“King Killtree, warrior, Force Domain, the Unmoving Shield and Unyielding Sword.

“The Curios are the only ones who are currently in a pattern of ‘crushing real threats to their rule’, since the Curios are constantly trying to kill each other and reunite North and South Curio as one Sovereign City. The other three were in a holding pattern of ‘crushing upstarts’. They would have stayed that way had the Dicer Rebellion not happened.

“Now, every City is on edge, and likely fully prepared for war. Especially so since they are united in their hatred of you, Erick.

“That declaration of war was real.

“They are ready for you to try something. Anything at all, and they probably have a response for it.” Kirginatharp said, “While the culture of that place produces terrible people all the time, the people who actually rise to the top of that cesspool are the ones best able to live in their self-made world of horrors. No matter how you respond to this declaration, someone is going to die, somewhere, because that is how these people operate, and that is what war means.” Kirginatharp added, “Or perhaps they’ll do a polite war and surprise everyone.”

Erick felt both beyond furious and utterly exhausted, with at least a hundred more questions in him. “Why, if they have Domains, do they even need other people to come in and kill Ancient Unicorns, like Jane did? Why do they need your help for bargains of trade at all?”

“Because the rulers do not help their fellow man until their fellow man is one of theirs, and simply living in the same City as one of their royalty does not make one a citizen of that City. Sometimes, in unicorn season, those monsters can get all the way to Killtree proper before their king deigns to lift a finger. In part, this is due to their culture of independence, in another part, this is due to the desire of nobles to see other nobles fall, and thus increase their own power. Every time the unicorns make it all the way to Killtree proper, it means that some nobles on the northern side of Killtree have died, which clears the northern lands of Killtree for other nobles to try and rise up in the emptiness.

“In another small way, fighting unicorns is very difficult for many people, even those with a Domain, and Kings of Killtree have died to underhanded tactics from other Sovereign Cities when they have been proactive with unicorn hunts. So they don’t do that anymore. Anyone who does, dies.”

Erick burst out, “How have they not imploded already?! How can they maintain a population?! What the FUCK?!”

Kirginatharp nodded knowingly, calmly saying, “They have imploded, many, many times before.”

“… And yet they keep coming back the same way?” Erick asked, “Have they no regard for the lessons of history?”

“They do not.”

Erick leaned back in his chair, his head flopping back as he stared at the ceiling. For a long moment, that was all he did. And then he turned to face Kirginatharp again. “Thank you for coming here and talking, Kirginatharp. I have… so many more questions, and your experience is invaluable. Do you want a Gate to Oceanside? I can have one ready for you within ten minutes of this conversation ending— Which might not be for another few hours, depending on how much time you’re willing to spend talking.”

Kirginatharp smiled. “I have been waiting what seems like a long time to simply talk with you, Erick, about this and that and anything else you want to discuss. I’m sorry that it took a war to make this happen, but we’re here now. So let’s talk about anything and everything. How about we start with Last Shadow’s Feast? I never got a chance to really discuss all of that with you, in private.” He added, “And then we can talk about what it means now that you’re hosting this Shadow’s Feast.”

Erick chuckled. “It wouldn’t be a day on Veird without ten concurrent crises.”

“Then it’s rather wonderful you have Time Magic now,” Kirginatharp said, grinning.

Erick sighed and smiled, then asked if Kirginatharp wanted anything to eat, or anything for the space. The Second to Rozeta asked after some desserts and teas, and when Erick canceled the [Hasted Shelter] to grab those things, Kirginatharp also grabbed a teapot that was surrounded by a permanent purple lightmask. Erick laughed as he looked down at the teapot. It was the same one with the same lightmask that Erick had made, back when he had made the Light Essence dungeon at Oceanside, so that Kirginatharp could make all the All Stat rings that he wanted.

“How is this teapot working out for you, anyway?” Erick asked.

“All my Elites now have All Stat rings; every one of them with over a hundred in everything! It’s been quite wonderful for survivability and general ease of monster slaying.” Kirginatharp smiled. “But the number of incidents which require an Elite response are quite reduced, thanks to your own efforts with monster eradication.”

Erick laughed. “That’s not a problem, is it? Am I depriving you of money from monster kills?”

Kirginatharp waved a hand. “I have more than enough of every physical thing I would ever need or want. And so do my people. No; your magic has not been a problem at all. Your magic has kept thousands of people alive who would have otherwise died, either through preserving the lives of my Elites, or through allowing them not to have to make resource-based decisions in the field, they could save everyone.”

Erick smiled brightly. “I’m glad.”

The two of them spoke for hours, about this or that, or about history. Kirginatharp was a wellspring of information regarding everything that Erick was now facing; from war, to problems of magic and the proliferation of secrets, to problems of societies and how to deal with them. They spoke of law and order. Justice and the needs of Veird, and of individuals. They spoke of war crimes, and otherwise.

A lot of it was praise for a lot of the decisions Erick had made already. Kirginatharp had nothing but good things to say about Last Shadow’s Feast, now that they weren’t all joking about orgies, and it was just the two of them. The previous conversation about that had been with Kromolok and Riivo, and back then Kirginatharp had held his tongue in certain ways. Now, though, the viciousness of the Second of Rozeta came out, and Kirginatharp spoke of his open hatred for all things Dark, and how Erick’s [Blessing of Empathy] was the best thing Kirginatharp had ever seen done to the Shades.

“It was catharsis unbridled, Erick,” Kirginatharp said, with a great big sigh. “I loved watching you watch them fall to their knees in horrible realization of what they had done…” And then his smile waned. “But it was still a war crime. No less than what they deserved, all of them… But… When it comes to the Cities… I don’t know. Ruthlessness has its place. And yet...”

Erick picked up what he was putting down. “Yeah. I know. It would be wrong to soul-fuck every single noble of the Sovereign Cities. But what the fuck else can I do? I can’t have real peace talks with them; they’re just going to diatribe at me. And I won’t have a repeat of Terror Peaks… I’m still not happy with how that ended up. I don’t think I ever will be. I killed… I killed so many people, Kirginatharp.”

“Look at it this way: by killing those killers, you saved more lives. Songli is soft, Erick. It’s not their fault that they were targeted so harshly, and so thoroughly, but Terror Peaks was a society at the forefront of martial might. Similarly, the nobility of the Cities is stronger, but not by much, while Candlepoint is much, much more fragile than Songli, simply due to age and coordination, and the fact that you don’t have an army of Elites yourself.”

“I didn’t want a standing army.”

Kirginatharp smiled softly. “Which is a good thing. I’m also glad that you aren’t so keen on this soul-fucking option, too. You’re a good man, Erick. It’s a shame that powerful people can’t be as good as they want to be, or else they get killed.”

“… Yeah.”

“So I’ll accompany you to your peace talks, if you end up having real peace talks. Maybe not the first one, though, because then they’ll just focus on me and that won’t be productive for you, at all.”

Erick smiled. “I’ll take that offer.”

Kirginatharp grinned. And then he put that grin away, saying, “You have other allies that will not go named that you could take in my stead. One of which I am rather sure would be thrilled with the opportunity to commit ‘Justice’ in your name.”

Erick lost his smile. “… No. I’m not trusting her with this— But…” He frowned a little.

“Think about your options, Erick.” Kirginatharp said, “Whatever you pick, I suggest you do not go alone, and certainly not in person.”

“Well, yeah.”

They spoke for a few hours more.

But eventually it was time to get back to the real world.

Erick ended the [Hasted Shelter] and within ten minutes, like he had promised, he had installed a Gate to Oceanside on Financial road, just to the left of Candlepoint’s Gate.

On his side of the world was a land of flat orange stone and scattered buildings and lots and lots of Platform traffic, moving around under the midday sun. On the other side of the Gate was a land of hundred-meter tall, cream-colored stone towers, lit up at night. A few late night graduate students flew back and forth between those towers, following lines of light laid in the air, while a few Elites in cream-colored armor waited in the courtyard where Erick had planted the Gate.

Kirginatharp departed to Oceanside, traveling from day to night, then he turned back to Erick, saying, “I’ll have those Elites report to Burhendurur in your morning. Good day, Erick. It was a pleasure.”

Erick grinned, saying, “Thanks for the help. See you later, Kirginatharp.”

The Headmaster and the Wizard both turned to their respective people, waiting on the sides of the Gate for the go-ahead. This was, after all, the opening of a new Gate all the way to Oceanside, the premier learning center of the entire world, and a hub of trade. This was a big deal. A lot of things were a big deal right now, but the people who would be using this Gate didn’t really care about the war with the Sovereign Cities. They just wanted to trade all the way with Stratagold, as did most people.

And so, vendors and tourists had come out of the woodwork as fast as this monumental news could spread, and as fast as Zolan and Oceanside could coordinate all of it.

And now, the Wizard and the Headmaster, operating on ceremony, said to each other, “Let the trading commence.”

Erick and Kirginatharp nodded to each other and simultaneously vanished from the field in flashes of light. The guards of both sides of the Gate took over from there, and soon, trade flowed. It was a rather subdued opening compared to the ones that had happened for Portal and Weald and Gambler’s Rest, but it was a lot more than the ceremony which had happened for Candlepoint. For Candlepoint, Erick had just placed the Gate, and word eventually got around that there was no need to blip to the Gate District; you could take the Gate.

- - - -

Back in his office, Erick looked down at his Gate District, and wondered if he needed to put more interconnecting Gates at Candlepoint, and Weald. Those places were getting rather darned big! They could use multiple Gates, connecting from multiple sides of those cities.

… OR...

Erick smiled a little.

Maybe he needed a monorail. A tram system! Ohh. Yeah. That could be fun!

Eh. No.

War first.

Erick went into seclusion for a dozen minutes, meaning a dozen hours, in order to sort out all the thoughts that Kirginatharp had given him and then to come up with his own comprehensive plans. And then he slept on it. When he came out of seclusion he knew what he was going to do.

Mostly.

The first thing he did was call up Fairy Moon.

That conversation lasted a good ten minutes, in real time, and that was more than enough. Afterward, Erick wasn’t sure if it had been the right call to involve the fae, but Fairy Moon wasn’t able to commit to the sort of war that Erick wanted to wage with the Sovereign Cities, anyway, since Ar’Cosmos was taking up all of her time. But she did offer some help.

Erick had declined her offer. “If I want to summarily execute every noble, I will let you know.”

Fairy Moon had shrugged. “A proper purging of undesirable un-nobles makes manifest room and reason for a change of civilization. But I’ve never had luck with slaying those particular Sovereigns to produce a desired destiny. Good luck!”

And then she had vanished.

Erick went around doing a few more preparations on his end, using [Cascade Imaging] and checking the lands on the other sides of every Gate for signs of trouble, but he saw no immediate concerns and there wasn’t much more to do to prepare.

Kirginatharp, Zolan, and others, had convinced Erick that he should at least attempt peace talks. And he needed to let others attempt the same. That meant giving Oceanside, Stratagold, and Portal (surprisingly, but not really that surprisingly since they were an ally) the opportunity to try for peace, on Erick’s behalf. Those talks were apparently happening right now, and Erick was not involved in those.

Erick would eventually try for peace, too. Tomorrow.

It was going to be a pretty fucking weak attempt, though, and done at a far distance.

- - - -

Before Erick knew it, night had fallen. The Greater Candlepoint Area was on high alert. An hour to the west, though, the land was awash in the reds and golds of sunset, and the distant deepening purples of twilight.

And Erick wanted to know a little bit about what his allies were talking about with the royals.

Ophiels flew high in the skies of the Sovereign Cities, lighting up the evening with stars that cascaded invisible light all across the land. [Cascade Imaging] showed the general locations of Erick’s targets well enough. The Kings and Queen of the Cities were publicly known figures. And yet, Erick only got a ping on the Queen of Pearl, who was named that same name, but who was technically Queen Pearl the Fifth. No one actually called her that, though.

And so, because he knew where Queen Pearl was, Erick went to Pearl, first.

Queen Pearl was in the middle of a heated discussion in a tower to the side of her main castle, sitting across a large meeting table from a representative from Oceanside. Guards stood strong on both sides of the room.

Erick watched with his mana sense from an invisible Ophiel, a hundred meters above the meeting. Mana sense didn’t allow for things like color or even sound, really, but lip reading and throat reading —for everyone down there seemed to be using [Telepathy] at the moment— was good enough.

Queen Pearl was a middle-aged human woman surrounded by floating daggers, marking herself as an agent of the angels. Her colors were white and gold. She was shouting about how terrible Candlepoint was, and how war was absolutely necessary, and how Oceanside had no right to interfere in the workings of the Sovereign City of Pearl. If they kept this up, then Oceanside would get a letter of war, too. Of course Pearl wasn’t saying all of that at that very second. Erick had mana sensed through time a bit to uncover all of that had happened over the last 30 minutes. As for this particular moment, Pearl was reciting something that she had said a few times already.

Queen Pearl scowled. “So Oceanside has fallen to the Wizard.”

The man from Oceanside, who Erick knew as an Elite he had seen somewhere before, but he had honestly never gotten the man’s name, spoke with a calming tone that he had needed to use several times already, “Oceanside has not fallen to Erick Flatt, Queen Pearl. As I have said already, Wizard Flatt has allied with us, alongside with Stratagold, and almost every single god of the Pantheon, among others. Since Wizard Flatt’s ascension to power Melemizargo has not appointed another Ancient, nor has he sent wave upon wave of monsters at every city in the Underworld, as he usually does. Nor has—”

“Shut up,” Pearl said, “I’m tired of hearing your ignorant words. The Wizard has duped you, and everyone else. Expect a letter of war in the morning. Our trade with you has ended. No more pearls, no more Healing items, no more trade. Get out of my kingdom.”

The man rose from his seat, bowed, and then left.

And Queen Pearl looked up at the roof of her room, saying, “I know you’re there, Wizard. Have you come to surrender?”

Erick decided to leave.

And since it appeared that Pearl was cutting ties with Oceanside, and Oceanside seemed to be fine with that happening…

Erick had Ophiel take a detour into the city of Pearl. He didn’t want to do that too much, for he knew that if he did then...

Erick gazed down at the Sovereign City, and knew disgust.

A quarter of the land was filled with light and stone buildings and decorative crenelations atop cathedrals, and mansions layered and layered with defensive magics. The streets were clean and well lit. The guards were stationed in their little guard houses, and carriages of nobles trundled off to play houses, and bordellos, and otherwise, and bars were filled with people and bands, and the harbor was active with trade and sailors and everything moving all at once, under bright lights and the watchful eyes of harsh guard captains. Everything looked perfectly normal, mostly. On the surface, Pearl was almost like Spur, or Candlepoint, or any other normal city.

But then there was the other 75% of Pearl.

Dark roads. Public lights only present at every intersection. Wooden houses, with candles made of dirty tallow which left great trails of black smoke that marred ceilings with permanent shadows; for [Cleanse] had not been used in these places in a very long time. The greatest sources of light were the private lights atop the stone towers that stood up from the slums every so often. Those towers were only upon the major roads that led out into the distance, to other points of light out in the twilight out there, to other small cities lit with light, surrounded with their own sorts of permanent slums, hidden in perpetual darkness.

People were out and about in those dark places, too, but they did not wear nice clothes. They wore roughspun things. Some of the smallest kids were simply naked, playing in the mud, or getting whipped for misbehaving by drunk fathers, or mothers. Most people did not have shoes.

Erick witnessed no less than seven muggings, staggered minutes from one another, and kilometers apart. This was the time for muggings, apparently—

And there was a murder.

Erick couldn’t ignore that one.

He couldn’t ignore any of what he had seen, not now that he had seen it.

He swept in with Ophiel and rescued the murder/mugging victim, taking him far outside of the city in a single [Teleport Other]. He was an old man in rags who had been trying to buy bread with gold coins. The man did not look like he should have gold anywhere in his life at all, and so that was why he was mugged and stabbed four times in the gut, and once in the back. Erick did a rapid series of healing spells on the old man, who was completely out of it. Even when he was healed, he was still suffering from some sort of dementia, or something. Erick tried some more powerful healing, [Regeneration]. And that did it. The man’s eyes unclouded; cognizance returned.

And there, on the dark plains outside of Pearl, Erick interviewed the old man while he continued righting wrongs in Pearl.

A house was on fire, and the woman who owned it was pleading with the fire brigade, asking them to stop the fire and [Mend] the house, but the woman hadn’t paid her fire tax, and so the fire brigade was telling everyone else in the area that ‘See! This is what happens when you don’t pay!’. Erick was having none of that, though. Ophiel swept in, invisibly, ripped the fire out of the house with [Fireshape], and repaired the whole place to full with a few seconds of [Mending Aura].

The woman praised the angels for their help.

Erick blipped away the fireman who tried to restart the fire.

Erick did thirty-five small rescues like that, from putting out fires, to setting piles and piles of whiteroot inside the mostly-empty store rooms, to grabbing a nice, plain soup from the food court of House Benevolence and copying that a thousand times over, to set out bowls of warm soup inside houses that needed the food. Erick managed to find out a lot about how the Cities operated in that time, and he managed to answer his question about ‘how do they maintain population with this much death happening everywhere’. The answer was simple; every single mother seemed to have anywhere from 4 to 7 kids. There were a lot of children, everywhere. In that same way, there were a lot of kids and parents that needed a lot of help, which they got in the form of whiteroot deposited into their store rooms. A lot of whiteroot.

Erick would have given out potatoes, but those were rather new since Erick himself had invented them, and potatoes needed to be cooked to be eaten. Whiteroot had been a part of Veird for the last thousand years, and could be eaten raw if absolutely necessary.

He did a hundred larger actions, too, which mainly included the stopping of crimes, from murder, to torture, to other violent actions by the powerful against the powerless, or by the weak against the weak. Sometimes, he rescued the victims, when the crimes looked to be crimes of passion, like between two commoners, like with the mugging/murder of the old man from earlier. Sometimes, he captured the perpetrators, which happened in three separate situations of noble-on-commoner crime, with one of those situations being a woman torturing a man with knives as the man was tied up in a chair. The tortured man would have died if not for the woman’s Healing Magics, but Erick took over that Healing, rescuing the man as he captured the woman.

What happened to most of those people was the same thing that happened to the first old man whom Erick had rescued from that mugging.

The old man couldn’t remember most of his life, only that he was hungry and he had been trying to buy bread. And then he looked at himself. His new clothes. His healed body. And then he got mad, starting to tell Erick off. The man, very adamantly, ‘was not going to pay for these clothes! And I’m not paying for this unwanted healing, either!’. He ‘didn’t need some invisible voice to help him’ and ‘all the gods could get fucked’, too, ‘especially the angels!’.

Erick let the man rant for a moment, but when the man tried to get away and brush Erick off, Erick stopped him. He had an important question for the man. This same sort of question had eventually gone out to every other person Erick had helped in this way, over the course of the two hours Erick had spent in Pearl’s main city.

“I healed you, for free. You’re free to do whatever you want. You’re 50, so you likely have a good 30 years left in you if you continue down the same path you were on. Or maybe far, far less time than that if you get murdered over a few gold coins. What are you going to do with your life now?”

“I’m gonna find that fucker who tried to knife me and make sure he doesn’t see the light of another day.” The old man turned around as he spoke, trying to find the source of Erick’s voice. “It’s the best thing for all of us if that boy is dead tomorrow! I know who did it, too! It was Arli’s boy! Troublemaker needs to die.”

Erick frowned, because that was the old man’s real, true answer.

And so, Erick [Reincarnation]ed the old man, picking the best possible future for the newly-young man, and for everyone else. Erick left the guy sleeping in a [Fairy Stronghold] on the side of the road, in the darkening twilight. A small pile of silver coins and a small dagger in a belt sat upon a table that was set in front of the door, blocking the way out. The newly-young and hopefully good man would not possibly miss those small boons on his way out of the space. As a final touch, Erick [Blessing of Empathy]ed the guy while he slept, and put a full-length mirror into the room.

When the man woke, he would be level 0, Matriculated into the Script, and with 20s in every Stat. He would be smart enough to evade authorities about that fact, for it would get him killed if people found out he was Matriculated. He would also want to help others in small ways. Everything else about the guy was rather normal. He was not the most handsome guy around, but Erick had taken the old man’s base self and remade him slightly nicer. He was still nothing special in any physical way, though, because that would get him noticed and killed.

The whole thing was, perhaps…

An ethically dubious thing to do.

But since the old guy was going to die anyway if Erick had not been there, then…

This was fine?

This was fine.

Erick almost continued on into the noble part of Pearl, but decided against it. The rich and powerful would be the people to actually try and go to war against him. Commoners who weren’t even Matriculated into the Script could do nothing against him, and they all needed his help, anyway; even if they didn’t want his assistance. ‘Want’ didn’t even register as a concern. These people ‘wanted’ to live in independent squalor. They ‘wanted’ to murder those who wronged them. They didn’t ‘want’ help.

Because that was what Erick was doing. Helping. Unilaterally. There was no way that any sane person would fault him for stepping in on any of these situations… Probably.

… Fuck it.

Let’s remake some of the world into a better place.

[Blessing of Empathy] was already proven to work, for it worked on Cultists and Terror Peaks people and even the Shades… Or at least it worked well on Cultists and Terror Peaks.

It would work well here.

Still, though, Erick did not stick around in Pearl too much. He needed to move on. But there was one more thing to do here.

- - - -

The Executioner’s Hall of Pearl was one of the most well-protected public places of the city.

It was still a public place.

The Royal Road of Pearl, as they called these things here, stretched from the harbor to the palace in a straight, wide thoroughfare, about 30 meters across. Trade houses and businesses of all sorts lined that road, eventually giving way to the really nice parts of town, where mansions lay beyond tree-lined barriers, and everyone was stupid rich. Executioner’s Hall was an area taking up the last hundred meters of that road, located on the left side, in the open air. Anyone getting off a ship with an appointment at the palace would see this spectacle of inhumanity right before they arrived.

Gleaming swords, five meters tall, lined that side of the road, gently floating half a meter above the ground. There were about 40 swords. Those swords functioned like shish kabobs, each of them holding between five to ten heads apiece. All in all, there were 309 heads. Hovering lightwards displayed the names of the heads, and their crimes.

Erick ended up reading some of the stories of those ‘criminals’. And then he ignored them, since even if they were true, he didn’t care. This was horror. This should not happen in a developed society.

The whole hall of swords was located under [Weather Ward]s, other [Ward]s of all types, and under the watchful eyes of the royalty of Pearl.

And one more.

An angel floated behind the swords.

She was a woman of pale skin and gold hair, with gold eyes. A halo of gold surrounded her head, with a larger halo around her entire body. She wore what looked to be a dress of feathers, but they were not feathers at all. They were daggers. Thousand of daggers, forming several layers of ‘garment’.

Erick had Ophiel appear in the center of the road, about 15 meters away from the Executioner’s Hall.

The angel noticed long before everyone else.

Erick spoke first. “Cease this display of horror right now, or I will End it for you.”

The angel’s voice was terribly angelic. “I am not contracted to you, Erick Flatt. I cannot end this display without the direct order of Queen Pearl the Fifth.”

With his Ophiel high in the sky, Erick followed through with his threat. He ended the display of heads with a coordinated sweep of [Luminous Beam], carving through [Ward]s like he was breaking glass. Magic scattered and fled. Five seconds later, the dance of carving light ended.

A few swords were slag. Most were completely gone. The heads were vaporized. A scattered of black soot was the only real remainder of what had once been the Executioner’s Hall of Pearl.

Everything and everyone else was unharmed.

Erick asked the angel, “What happens now?”

The angel serenely explained, “I am contracted to kill you and the ten people closest to you, but there is time allowed for banter and we both know I cannot fulfill this particular end of my contract. And so, since we Angels don’t wish to anger you any further, and since we desire your help with ending the Demonic Threat, I will simply cancel my contract, and in doing so, die. If you will allow it, I will speak further.”

Erick paused. “… Tell me why the angels have contracted with the Cities, or at least your own circumstances. I know your people have seen the horrors that I have seen.” Ophiel gestured to where the slagged swords lay on the ground, to where the heads had been held for all to see. “You even participate in these horrors. Explain yourselves.”

The angel nodded. “We are not blind to the faults of mortals, and yet mortal flesh is nothing compared to the eternity that comes afterward for those of the True Faith. And so, we must help those who try to reach for that True Faith, no matter how they fail in other ways. This assistance is more true here, in Pearl, than in all the other Sovereign Cities, for right across those mountains to the east lay the Wasteland Kingdoms. The incani over there would kill the humans of this land if they had the chance, or if these lands were richer.

“After you have finished remaking this land into the image you desire, if you remain in power you will see that I speak the Truth. Perhaps you might even see that the cruelty of mortals is a measure of protection against the true cruelty of demons and their kind. If Ar’Kendrithyst were still around, I would add that the cruelty of mortals is also protection against the Dark.” The angel bowed again. “Good day, Erick Flatt, Wizard of Benevolence. May you have better thoughts on angels from now on, for we are not your enemies, and we never were. And as a final word: You are turning people Empathetic through Soul Magic in an attempt to make the world better. We did the same to turn people away from the demons, and toward the light of Celes. Our goals would align, if you would see that they could.”

And then the angel died as magic usually died; a shattering that started here and there and spread rapidly, like the breaking of glass. In a sudden flash the angel turned to light and glinting fire. Her thousand-dagger dress fell to the ground like heaps of snow, and then turned to a billowing of golden magic all at once.

The guards stared at where the angel had hovered.

No one said another word.

Ophiel left.

Erick had spent two hours in Pearl and that might have been too much. He had four other cities to visit.

- - - -

Ten minutes after leaving Pearl, Poi reported that the Queen had a message for him.

Erick reluctantly said, “… Summarize it, if you would.”

Poi said, “Ahem. ‘Is that all you’re going to do? Kill my angel? That’s pretty fucking weak, dark-sucker, demon-consort, traitor of humanity.’ There was more to it than that, but it is unnecessary to repeat the whole thing.”

Erick was briefly stunned. “Did Pearl… Did she not see everything else I did?”

“I and the other Mind Mages that Ascendant Prime have dedicated to this cause are rather sure that she heard about you solving fires out in the slums and other such actions, but she doesn’t care.” Poi softly added, “And we didn’t actually tell you that, sir, if you understand.”

“… Yeah, yeah. Tell Ascendant Prime I’m thankful for his and everyone else’s help, too. It’s going to make defending the Greater Candlepoint Area a lot easier.”

Poi struggled with something for a moment, and then he blurted out, “If you don’t actually attack the royalty or the nobles directly— I am not telling you this, but in our opinion which you have not heard... The royalty over there is not going to do anything to you, or to us, unless you attack them directly— I mean. Besides whatever other plans they got planned. Which we still don’t know about.” Poi strongly added, “And I do mean that. We really don’t know what they’re thinking.”

Erick waved a hand. “It’s fine, Poi. I understand the Mind Mage reluctance to get involved. If you get involved, it means possibly subjecting yourself to total annihilation due to well-founded fears. I understand that very well.”

“… I know you do, sir. I’m sorry we can’t help you more.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

- - - -

Ten hours later there had been no attacks on the Greater Candlepoint Area.

Burhendurur reported zero incidents aside from normal incidents, but even bar fights and otherwise were way down; everyone had heard of the declaration of war from the Sovereign Cities. Mephistopheles and Slip reported nothing at Candlepoint. Weald was silent. Gambler’s Rest reported nothing, though there was a marked increase in both parties, and in war preparations. Even on the other sides of the Gates, nothing happened, except for a lot of trading, as usual. The Gate District never slept, for it was always day time somewhere.

A lot of traders on floating Platforms did move a lot faster than usual, though, hurrying to get through customs and onto their next destination before the Gates possibly closed forever, if the Cities actually managed to pull off the impossible and kill Erick.

From what Erick had seen last night, as Ophiel flew across the Cities, righting wrongs, he very much doubted the military might of these asshole humans.

In the course of the night, Erick had directly saved the lives of around 2,000 people, and [Reincarnation]ed 1,229 people into their own forms; younger, in most cases, and with a better life trajectory in every single case. Under the power of [Reincarnation], Erick saw the natural flow of futures of every single person he touched. They all had anywhere from 40% to, in one case, 95% of all futures as violent ends, either due to their own actions, or the actions of others. Killers, rapists, poisoners, muggers, thieves, violent mercenaries committing small and large acts of violence against other people for their whole lives, violent nobles using their violence against others to force them to capitulate to the nobles’ wants.

But Erick picked the better end for all of them.

He knew that what he was doing was a horrible violation.

A war crime that was king among all other war crimes.

“And no one in the Cities cares?!” Erick said, slamming his hand atop a fresh batch of letters from the Sovereign Cities. “They’re taunting me? What the FUCK!”

Zolan said, “In many ways this is a good outcome. The letter from Charme is most revealing.”

Erick grabbed up that letter and read off the part Zolan was referring to, “ ‘If this is the level of threat that we are to expect from you, then perhaps you are no actual threat to the world after all. Therefore, surrender now, Wizard of Darkness, or be invaded by forces you cannot comprehend.’ What the fucking fuck!” He looked to Zolan. “The only respect I got at all was from the fucking angel who offed herself rather than complete her contract to fight me—” Suddenly, all Erick’s anger came to a head, and then boiled over, releasing all that anger into the void. Erick blinked a bit, then looked down at the letters again. “Oh. They’re fine with me cleaning up their cities.” He looked up at Zolan. “Is that what they’re really after?”

Zolan stared at Erick like Melemizargo had popped up behind him.

Erick turned and looked at the shadow on the wall, and it was a perfectly normal shadow. He turned back to Zolan.

Zolan said, “Uh. No. I doubt that… scenario, sir. I think a more accurate thing to say is that they do not care if you harm their people. They believe it must be those peoples’ own faults for being harmed in the first place.”

“… Oh.” Erick picked up the letter from Charm again, and then read off a different part, “ ‘The culling of the weak matters nothing to us, for if this is the level of threat… yada yada’.” Erick stared at the letters for a while.

Zolan was right.

They truly did not care about the commoner person over there.

Zolan waited while Erick comprehended that.

Erick looked up, and said, “Then… I’m going to do this every single night, and I’ll start sending the remade people to Gambler’s Rest… Perhaps—” In that moment, everything seemed too weird. “Holy shit, Zolan. This is such a fucking weird war. Like… Is it better to transform people into better forms, when they would have died, or committed murder and then be executed anyway because they’re murderers? But only if they’re found out and someone even cares to prosecute them— The nobles over there wouldn’t be prosecuted, though! They have the same problem Songli has; the nobility operate under different laws than the commoners.” He looked to Zolan. “Is it right to take people who would have died, and make them better? And then… to continue doing that? Because this is a very grass-roots way to transform a nation, and it will work. Might even work as soon as a few years… Unless they’re all murdered by the nobility when they start actually linking hands and forming a power bloc.”

Zolan readily answered, “So don’t [Blessing of Empathy] them anymore; just [Reincarnation] them. Transform their futures from continual horror, to a future of helping each other, and then let them gather and make their own nation. Let them fight their own wars. Either way, the meeting with the five Cities is happening in an hour. Perhaps you should not get caught up in whatever ‘war crimes’ you think you’re committing, when you are still saving lives and making the world a better place in the process.”

“… But they are war crimes though,” Erick said, looking directly at Zolan.

“… By certain definitions, yes. But then again a Breach Demon uses Soul Magic to destroy human souls and conjure demons in their place, and the Converter Angel converts people to the Will of Celes. Incani transform people into demons when they go to war, and humans annihilate incani souls when they can. The Life Binder transforms people into new forms all the time. The Necromancers of Songli summon the dead back to life for bureaucratic purposes.” Zolan said, “By comparison: your [Reincarnation] and [Blessing of Empathy] have already proven themselves as boons of unparalleled opportunity and growth. While this… particular application of this magic leaves a bad taste, personally I feel it is better than the alternative, when the alternative is total war with potentially hundreds of thousands dead and an end to the chance to reach new worlds.” Zolan said, “You are a good man, Erick. You are the treaty which will bind the world together to a better future, and if some people have to be transformed to make that future happen, then that is for the best.”

Erick was still having trouble with the whole idea, though.

Zolan added, “Perhaps you should involve the people from Gambler’s Rest in these sorts of decisions, then. Perhaps the opinions of locals on what needs to be done to the people in power will either assuage or confirm your fears.”

Erick almost groaned. “Yes. Yes. I should do that, shouldn’t I— I got… I got caught up.” He looked to Zolan. “That place is worse than anywhere else I have ever seen on Veird except for Ar’Kendrithyst when the Shades were active.”

Zolan raised an eyebrow. “Then you’ve never been to Continental Nergal? The Fractured Citadels? Some of the worse-off places in Nelboor?”

“Not fully, but yes I have, at least a little. And yet! On a ratio of bad things happening per night, based on last night: Yes, Zolan. The Sovereign Cities were worse than almost anywhere else that I have ever personally seen. I held back from doing everything I could have done at the Cities last night, but I could have done a lot.” Erick said, “I saw hard drugs in their markets; not blue weed, but fang snapper and illusion’s grace for sure. I healed tens of people who would have died from overdose. I saw flags of the Cinnabar Hand in some underground hideaways; the same Hunters who targeted Spur, who helped Caradogh Pogi to kill the Farms. I found face stealers in the process of stealing faces. I saw… I saw a lot. A lot of things that Harridon and Bobbi and everyone else didn’t even talk about yesterday, and I have no idea why. Probably just because there was too much to talk about.”

Zolan showed no surprise at all as Erick spoke of drugs and Hunters. He simply said, “Whatever you do to the Cities you’re likely going to want to repeat with the slavers of Continental Nergal, and the necromancers of the Citadels, and with all the other terrible little murderous clans hiding out in Nelboor who have nothing to do with the Darkness at all. I advise you to consider that you are stretching yourself too thin, and that if you continue, you might break. I also reinforce your decision to use this newfound information and talk to the Dicers again, to get a better understanding of what you saw.”

“… You’re right, of course.” Erick looked to Zolan. “I still can’t believe that you’re okay with this soul magic?”

Zolan nodded. “I am very okay with righting the wrongs of this world. I believe you will find that many others will feel the same way. And [Reincarnation] is wonderful, Erick. I trust you with that spell, perhaps more than anyone else I could think of, and all the soul scans agree that my stance has nothing to do with the fact that I’ve been [Reincarnation]ed.” He added, “But, if you think that simply shifting someone’s soul toward a better future is going to solve the problems of the Cities, then perhaps… Perhaps it might, but perhaps we will be in the Cities for a long time to come, no matter the outcome of this war.”

- - - -

“Thanks for coming, Harridon, Glorida, Bobbi,” Erick said, seated on his side of the meeting space.

It was just them; no one else.

Harridon was dressed in his bright red conjured armor as he had been wearing in public, ever since the Sovereign Cities’ declaration of war. Glorida was in yellow, and Bobbi was wearing his fishbowl hat again. A lot of the Dicers had been prepared for something awful to happen, and so they also wore  [Conjure Armor]. Harridon’s helmet was off to the side at the moment, but Glorida and Bobbi still wore theirs.

With a stern face, Harridon said, “We are grateful for the chance to right the wrongs of the Cities, right alongside you, Wizard Flatt. If you have demands of us, we should hear all of them so that we can fulfill them to the best of our abilities.”

Glorida and Bobbi let Harridon speak for them.

Erick nodded, saying, “Heard and understood. For now, your power would be best spent protecting Gambler’s Rest.”

Harridon’s face fell.

Glorida spoke up, “We can fight, sir! We know the land! We know the enemies. We can help you win this and ensure that a new breed of Cities rises from the ashes of the old!”

Harridon said, “As you can see, our people are ready to fight as soon as we have a vector of attack.”

Bobbi simply nodded.

All three of them were of the same mind; that they wanted to be involved in the overthrow of the Sovereign Cities.

Erick decided to just tell them, “You should know that I began the counter offensive last night, and have run into no issues so far. Barely any response, either, except for taunting letters.”

Harridon’s entire self brightened as his eyes went wide. Glorida and Bobbi had the same reaction. But then Erick spoke of ‘barely any response’, and all three went from hopeful to concerned.

“Pardon me for my questions, but…” Harridon asked, “Which royalty is dead?”

“None. They’re all still alive. I did save about 2,000 lives though, through the stopping of violent muggings and other such crimes, most of which I don’t feel like getting into.”

Harridon and Glorida had no response to that, except to lose all hope.

Bobbi spoke up, “So you did nothing.”

And that, right there, was very telling; especially when Harridon and Glorida seemed to share that sentiment.

Erick said, “You have explained how you began your rebellion, by creating stone houses outside of the cities and when they were attacked, you retaliated. But I wish to know if any of your Dicers attempted a different sort of war; one of winning the people over, first. Because I have run into a rare phenomenon; anything done against the common person is completely overlooked by those in charge.” Erick deposited the letters from the royalty of the Cities onto the tea table between their seats, saying, “Go ahead and read these.”

The three Dicers hesitantly began reading the letters.

Bobbi spoke as he picked up the one from North Curio, saying, “Of course they don’t care if you save the lives of nobodies.”

Glorida almost said something, but she was deep in the letter from Charme.

The three Dicers read the letters, and not a single one of them looked surprised. Erick waited until they were finished with all five.

And then Erick said, “So I have a plan. Tell me what you think of it: If I simply help people every single night, and stay out of the way of the Royalty, what will happen?”

Bobbi scrunched his face. Glorida frowned.

Harridon said, “But then nothing changes.” He rapidly added, “And the royalty will come after you eventually. This is the same sort of thing that Wellwisher tried to do in the beginning; help people.”

“Ah. But see? I simply want to help people, and I am not actually making any stone cities in those lands.” Erick was not going to tell them about the [Reincarnation]s and the [Blessing of Empathy]; not yet. He would let them think what they wanted to think. “My goal is not to overthrow anyone, even if they truly deserve it, but to change the world. And that comes through calculated assassination, yes, but your nation is much worse off than a few hundred assassinations could possibly fix. I deposited several tons of whiteroot and other non-perishable foods into starving households all across the land. I put out fires. I went after killers and rapists. And that was just one night of work.”

Glorida frowned a little, saying, “The people will take those gifts of food and burn them.”

Erick smirked a little, saying, “Ah! But they haven’t. Sure. Some did. But a lot of others just took the gifts and told their kids not to say anything.”

Glorida fell silent.

Harridon said, “It still won’t work. They won’t care for the good you do for them. They’re throw it back in you face and tell you to fuck off.”

Erick nodded. “That happened a lot, yes. Still gonna do it, though.”

Harridon had no idea what to do with that.

Bobbi did. “You still need to kill the royalty eventually. Even better if you could time it right with a groundswell of real support for yourself and truly overthrow the whole system.”

Glorida whispered, mostly to herself, “Wellwisher tried to do that.”

Harridon said, “Wellwisher tried to do a lot of good things, and he died for it. You might have a better go of it since you have true power. I would seek to serve this overturn of the Cities. Use me in whatever way you need, Wizard Flatt, for I wish to see my Cities free of tyranny.”

Bobbi strongly said, “I would, too. I trust you, Wizard Flatt.”

Glorida steeled herself, saying, “I don’t believe we would get our proper vengeance through peaceful mitigation of problems… But I can give up vengeance if it means a Killtree that I can return to one day, where the streets are paved with stone and I can turn the gravesites of my family into proper markers.”

Erick thought for a moment.

He decided something.

Erick said, “Then I should tell you how I actually saved the lives of those 2,000 people, and how I transformed 1,200 souls into better people than the ones they were before. When I’m done, tell me if the outcome is worse than the death those 1,200 would have received, for the natural outcome for those 1,200 people would surely have been death.”

And then Erick told them of [Reincarnation] and [Blessing of Empathy], and his idea for a war of seeds planted that would out-compete all other growth in the garden, due to their natural ability to work together for a common good. Or at least that was his tentative idea, right now.

Erick said, “And so, if they don’t actually fight me straight-up, then I’ll go around that royalty and change their society into something better. Might take ten years, but that’s fine.”

At least one of the Dicers was completely on board with Erick’s idea.

Bobbi strongly said, “I would like to be [Reincarnation]ed and dropped off along with a few other Dicers into the lands around Killtree. We failed to do the rebellion right the first time, but we can do it right this time. From the ground up. Like how Wellwisher wanted us to.”

Glorida had been quiet and contemplative, but at Bobbi’s words, her world lit up. With eyes wide, and then steel in her gaze, she said, “I would do this as well.”

Harridon stared at his companions. He said to them, “You would die.” He said to Erick, “These people you have Matriculated will die once they are found out. The very moment they are seen casting magic in the open, they will be marked.”

“Then it’s a good thing none of them have any Points to spend on anything.” Erick said, “[Reincarnation] put them into the Script; but it does not properly Matriculate them. They won’t gain any experience or points or anything like that unless they actually kill something for experience. But, what they will have is 20 in every Stat, the innate smarts and propensity to know how to fly under the [Scan], and an innate understanding of justice for all, and not merely for those who can take it.” Erick admitted, “Though a lot of that was a stretch for a lot of the people I saw. The major targets were easy to hit for every single [Reincarnation], though.”

Into the stunned silence of realizing exactly how much power Erick had—

Erick stood up, saying, “Take some time to think of that. I’ve got a meeting with the royalty of the Cities. You’re welcome to watch from afar.” With a hard voice, he said, “I will accept no violence at that meeting.”

All three people stood up as Erick stood, but now they faltered. As one, all three bowed, and then they rose.

Erick said, “Depending on how this goes you two might get your request, Bobbi, Glorida.” He said to Harridon, “But I still need someone to take care of Gambler’s Rest, so that’s on you if they go. Feel free to discuss all of that. I’ll see you later.”

And then Erick lightstepped away.

He felt marginally better about his ‘grass roots’ plan. It might actually work…

But probably not.

Not with the current batch of royals in charge of the Sovereign Cities. Bobbi had been right; the royals would need to die eventually.

Only one way to find out for sure, though.

- - - -

Meeting the royals was an affair of egos clashing and magics done over long distances, at a neutral location in the plains between Killtree, North Curio, and Charme. The original location had been at an old fort that had fallen into disuse centuries ago, which stood like a pile of scattered stone upon the empty plains. Erick had demanded the location switch to about a hundred kilometers north, where there was absolutely nothing but empty grasslands.

Erick laid down a [Zone of Peace] at that location, and then he had Ophiel project a lightform image of Erick onto the grasslands underwing. Three more Ophiel hovered in the background, awaiting treachery, while a fourth hovered beside the first one, projecting an image of Zolan. All of them were under the most protective magics that Erick could muster, including thorny silver shields, [Unbreakable Form] absolute defense, [Prismatic Ward]s, and the sunform combinations of [Perfect Benevolence] and [Lodestar].

Kirginatharp, Fairy Moon, the people from Stratagold or Portal, none of them were present.

Erick had had offers from many different factions, asking to participate in this meeting alongside him, but Kirginatharp had had the right idea; the first meeting would be just between him and them… And also Zolan. Or at least Zolan’s avatar.

But maybe Zolan shouldn’t have been present at all.

Erick trusted Zolan, but he didn’t want him to get hurt, either.

“We don’t know what their threat actually looks like, Zolan.” Erick glanced to Quilatalap, who stood against a pillar of the room. Quilatalap smiled faintly, and nodded. Erick felt his heart relax a little at that. He continued, “But you don’t really want to accept a [True Resurrection], either, if the worst should happen.”

“I have already said that if the worst should happen that I will accept a [True Resurrection]. My body language and my heart do not tell the full story of what my mind knows to be true, King Flatt; that [True Resurrection] is real. I am well aware of the Headmaster’s stance on that spell, though...” Zolan breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. “But I can deal with that, if it should happen. And besides that, I’m only present as a specialized [Scry] orb that is already inside an Ophiel. I’m as safe as can be.”

“There are ways to attack someone through their [Scry] orb.”

Zolan smiled a little. “I am well aware of what most of those ways are, and the risk I am taking. Thank you for your concern, but I feel I must be present here, and so, I must insist on participating. If you would allow it.”

Erick stopped himself from sighing. He nodded, instead. “I want you here, too, Zolan. Thank you.”

Zolan bowed a little.

Erick looked to Poi.

Poi shook his head. “Not ready yet.”

“It’s obviously a power play of some sort,” Zolan offered. “It’s already past time.”

“Yup.” Erick said, “They’re rather petty people…” He frowned a little. “We’re trying to be better than them, right?” And suddenly, Erick needed to ask both Poi and Quilatalap a question he had already asked Zolan, “Was [Reincarnation]ing all those people who would have died anyway the right answer? It’s wrong to turn people into better people against their will… But what if the alternative is letting them continue to harm others? Mind control is wrong. Soul mutilation is wrong. But… There’s therapeutic uses of Mind Magic out there, and every single person I transform over there will be a better person than they were before. Categorically, in every way. I took a torturer and killer of men and turned her into a sword saint warrior who would fight for others, and that’s just one person. From what I hear about the Shades and the Terror Peaks survivors, they’re all better people now, too.” He stopped talking.

He could have said a lot more.

But he had said a lot already.

Zolan stood resolute, and silent. He and Erick had already had this talk.

Quilatalap shrugged. “You’re avoiding a war through turning soldiers into better people. It’s the best outcome for all, Erick.”

To that, Zolan could not remain silent. “The royalty chose war. Erick transformed commoners who could not defend themselves, in a direct effort to begin the slow transformation of their society from the ground up. He did not even target soldiers. He transformed 1,200 one night. If he continued that would be well over 10,000 people per week, and that’s one percent of the estimated population of all the Sovereign Cities.” He looked to Erick, saying, “But to be clear, I still think this is the right decision.”

Erick asked, “I still don’t understand how the fuck they haven’t killed themselves.”

Zolan said, “The cold fact is that either those people would not have died and you were being overzealous, or Benevolence twisted to cause all those events to happen in a single night.”

Like a slap to the face coming out of nowhere, Erick took the blow, and was stunned.

Zolan laid the entire thought out there, which Erick hadn’t even considered, “Perhaps Benevolence is causing all of this to happen, in an effort to solve a problem long before it becomes a problem. That’s the whole point of it, after all.”

Quilatalap said, “Elemental Fate could do some weird stuff back in the Old Cosmology. Since Benevolence twists like Fate, but different, it’s possible this was Benevolence’s fault.” He added, “But I really don’t see the problem with taking people who would have died and giving them new chances. It’s even better if the long-term results end up being a society of peace and strength.” He shrugged. “The Cities are terrible, and for a hundred different reasons. They can only be improved by a strong hand willing to take up that cause and follow through.”

Erick asked, “Were they purposefully kept that way, by the Shades?”

Quilatalap said, “Sure; yes. The Shades have been poking at Veird since the Sundering, but they’re certainly not responsible for every single evil out there.” He said, “Quite honestly, Erick, there is absolutely nothing wrong with forcefully correcting the world, and making up for all the mistakes of the Shades in any way you can.”

Zolan eyed Quilatalap. Poi eyed Quilatalap, too.

And Erick was already saying, “It might cause less harm to ‘correct’ them all right now, but that’s a decision I don’t want to make. And yet... I think that rescuing people who were about to die, and those who were about to kill, and putting them all in new bodies predisposed to being kinder to each other is a slower, safer way to make the world better. But it’s still… Icky.”

Quilatalap shrugged. “It’s not actual mind control or soul control, so while your hangups are understandable, you’re not actually doing much to them besides making them understand their fellow person better. And that really is a blessing, Erick. A new body, younger and healthier and predisposed to being that way their entire life. Matriculation, even if they have no way to gain experience like most freshly Matriculated people can gain experience. A [Blessing of Empathy] to let them better understand the people around them.” He looked to Erick. “You’re acting like you think you have mutilated these people, but if anything you’ve healed them. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“… Well.” Erick went silent.

No one spoke—

Into the silence, Poi said, “Perhaps you should have offered them the choice, Erick, instead of deciding their fate for them. I always thought that particular option always made the whole thing more palatable.”

“… Ah.” Erick said, “Yeah… Hard to do in the middle of a crisis… But that’s kind of an excuse.”

Poi changed the subject, “Enforcement and Magic are ready for a counter attack. Prognostication is set. Kiri is ready to sound alarms if needed. Jane is indisposed in the Underworld as of twenty minutes ago, but she and her team are on high alert. They will be coming home within three days, as fast as they can. Everyone else is ready.”

“Thank you, Poi,” Erick said, and he meant so much more than a simple ‘thank you for your help’.

Poi nodded.

And then…

Moments passed in silence.

Minutes ticked away at a glacial pace as—

“ETA 30 seconds,” Poi announced.

Erick focused—

Quilatalap spoke up, “I love that you’re trying for peace, Erick.”

Erick briefly smiled, his stomach turning in flips.

And then he focused again. The outcome of this meeting would determine the nature of this war. Would this turn out peacefully? Would Erick overturn the royalty of the cities slowly, through the transformation of their entire society? Or would events unfold a lot faster? Because the Sovereign Cities were going to change.

Of that, there was no doubt.

- - - -

One royal appeared on the grasslands in front of Ophiel, along with four other representatives from the other four cities. Erick was instantly pissed. They had yelled at each other for twenty minutes to get the arrangements of this meeting done correctly, and the royals were supposed to be there. So where were the other four royals? Nowhere good, probably.

Erick looked to King Killtree, who was the only royal of the group. The man was red of hair and pale of body, with a mean look to his clear eyes. He wore real armor and a bunch of magical items, along with a crown of deadwood.

The other four people were dressed in the normal livery of their nations, but they were no royals. Charme had sent a man in blood-red robes. North Curio had sent a man in ocean-blue armor. South Curio had sent a man in pale yellow robes. Pearl had sent a woman in white scalemail armor.

Erick asked Killtree, “Where are the other four of you?”

King Killtree answered with the deep voice of a warrior used to getting his way, “We don’t trust you to honor the sacredness of a peace talk.”

“HA! That’s rich coming from you, the man who killed Wellwisher at peace talks.”

“He was ready to unleash antirhine weapons at us. We acted first.”

“Cowshit. You should have run.” Erick said, “There is no reason to break the honor of peace talks.”

Killtree paused. “A Wizard speaks of honor, eh? If you had any honor at all you should have killed yourself when you discovered what you were. Instead, you endanger the whole world with your wanton magics, duping gods and men alike into believing you are something other than what you are; a world killer.”

“I saved your city from a ballooning spider horde, Killtree.”

“What happened there was that our bargain of trade with Kirginatharp was mutated by you into something that we never would have agreed with. You play peacemaker, but we know who you are. You are a Wizard from beyond the stars and you must be Ended for the good of us all.”

Erick was angry.

Very, very angry.

And yet...

Erick felt his anger passing him by, as one would pass a wreck on the highway; sure, you saw it, you might have slowed down a bit to look at it. But you moved on, because you had places to be and dwelling on anger wasn’t productive.

With an almost clinical voice, Erick spoke to them all, “Is this how you all feel? Can there be no peace between us?”

Every single representative and even King Killtree suddenly shifted, as though they realized that they had pushed Erick too far, and the time for talking was over long before they even did much talking at all.

And in that moment, Erick realized that they were all talking a big game, but they wanted something out of him, specifically. They did not actually want a war at all. They were all steadfast in believing that they would win such a war, though. Especially King Killtree.

But they did not actually want... a war?

They wanted this peace talk here to be productive?

They had expected this peace talk to be productive.

Erick spoke directly to their unknowable thoughts, “What did you expect from speaking at me in this way? For your declaration of war to truly place you in power over me? To give you leverage of some sort? No. What has happened here is this: I tried talking peace with dictators and zealots like you before. With Terror Peaks, over in Songli. Even after Terror Peaks killed the envoys of Koyabez and then unleashed all out war, I still tried. I really, really tried over there. But we all know how that turned out. And so, I’m not about to try too hard with people like you. I am done talking to terrorists.” Erick spoke his ultimatum, “So tell me what you actually want from me, or this talk is ending now. We will have this war how I want to have this war. You, your people, and your entire way of life will not survive that outcome.”

For a long moment no one spoke verbally, but there were certainly a lot of telepathic lines coming off of everyone on the other side of the talk. Whatever they were thinking was opaque to Erick, but based on their eyes and their stances—

Erick instantly recognized that his approach was too hard. He had taken away all of the Cities options, for they needed to appear strong to their people. They would go to war with Erick simply because he was done talking, and he wasn’t giving them any ‘face’, as they would say in Songli.

So Erick backtracked.

He tried, “Shall we perhaps speak about how you expect this war to go? Perhaps we can come to some arrangement which doesn’t end in both of our nations suffering unduly, and with assassins of various types running around everywhere, harming those who do not need to be harmed. You spoke of ‘sparing the good people’ under my power, and so I would speak of the same, with you.”

Killtree instantly latched onto that whole vector of attack, proclaiming, “Our armies will wipe the Surface of your dragons and your soul-twisted warriors!”

Erick nodded. “So you wish to fight with armies, and not with bombs. In what way? How do you see this going?”

Killtree narrowed his eyes.

The man from Charme spoke, “It will be a war of the Light against the Dark! A polite war...” The man lost his train of thought as he stared at Erick’s avatar. His entire body broke out in a flop sweat.

Killtree slowly exhaled in frustration—

The woman from Pearl rapidly said, “It will be a hundred of ours against a hundred of yours, one battle per day. Here on these plains. Our good people of the Cities will tear down your entire civilization from the ground up, showing the world how evil you truly are as you make soul-mutilated ‘people’ fight for your cause. There will be no further raids upon either of our lands, as you did last night to the good people of our Cities, or this war will transform into one of assassins and dangerous magics.”

Erick almost shot back that he had saved lives last night inside the Cities, but that would be unproductive.

Instead, Erick said “Then it will be a polite war, as they do in Nelboor. How will victors be decided?”

“By the complete deaths of either side!” Killtree said, “A hundred of ours against a hundred of yours, every night. To the death.”

Erick asked, “And when I choose to go beyond death and to mutilate the souls of everyone you send my way? What then?”

“We would expect nothing less from a Wizard,” Killtree said, “You will prove our point a hundred times every night, and the world will see you for who you truly are.” He said to everyone else. “I’m done here.”

And then he vanished, flickering away in a splash of red magic.

The woman from Pearl said, “An hour before sunset, here on these plains. Gather your bravest, Wizard of Darkness, for we will crush them and when you run out of defenders, we will crush you.”

And then she vanished in [Teleport] magics, followed by everyone else in her group.

Erick’s lightform image briefly showed a frown before Ophiels lightstepped away, vacating the field.

- - - -

Inside Erick’s throne room, he sat, digesting those ‘peace talks’.

His first question was for anyone who felt like answering.

“So if I go and talk to the Dicers and ask them why they didn’t get a ‘polite war’ style war?” Erick asked, “What do you think they will say?”

Zolan answered, “The Dicers likely started with attempted assassinations, so traditional war was never an option. I also never believed that traditional war was an option, which is on me; I apologize for not advising you that this was possible.”

“That’s certainly not your fault, Zolan,” Erick said, “Nor is this lack of foresight the fault of anyone else but me— Oh. Kirginatharp joked that I might get a polite war out of this… Huh. Anyway. If I had a general of an army I could blame them, but I do not have such a person, nor I do not want such a person, either. This is all on me.”

And Erick was rather damned glad that he didn’t go to actual war last night; he stuck to helping people, and to causing as few waves as possible. While he had not intended for his lack of violence to open up the door to ‘polite war’ today…

This was a good outcome, yes?

Zolan said, “While a war of armies was not the most unexpected thing, I should have foreseen this possibility; I’ve lived in this world for over a century, after all. I truly apologize. The Cities are trying to appear civilized, and they know they will lose a straight fight against you.”

“Forget about it, Zolan. It’s in the past.” Erick asked, “How long do you expect them to maintain this level of decorum?”

“Maybe three losses?” Zolan guessed, “Maybe sooner. Hard to say. They didn’t put any restrictions on any of the allowed combatants, so they will likely field their third-strongest people in the first battle to gauge our strength. I would guess that they expect you to do the same.”

“Well that’s not happening.” Erick said, “It’s me and whoever volunteers. Probably no one, though. Just me.”

Zolan stared. Quilatalap frowned.

Poi said, “That is beyond foolish, Erick.”

Erick smiled at their concern. “I’m not sending anyone else to their deaths. So yes. Only me tonight— Or rather, Ophiel.”

Zolan said, “I can already tell you that they’re not going to agree to that sort of arrangement. You’re risking nothing and they’re risking a hundred people. I’m still amazed that they accepted that you weren’t going to appear in person in those talks.”

“They will war at my pleasure, or not at all, Zolan,” Erick said.

Zolan frowned, but said nothing.

Quilatalap asked, “Do you even need to agree to this sort of political show? Because that is what this is. A show. A way for them to spread your name in the dirt. There’s literally no winning this war, Erick. When you start to win they’ll break this agreement and come after you. But we’re ready for war, right now. Since we’re ready, you should End the current royalty over there and bring the next batch of sovereignites to power. Maybe they’ll be better at governing than this current one.”

Zolan said, “He can’t do that if he wants to show the world he is reasonable.”

Quilatalap glared at Zolan. “War is never reasonable.”

“I want to end them all, Quilatalap. End them before they can do any real damage,” Erick said, to the sudden dismay of Zolan and Poi. Erick continued, “It might all be a show, of course, but I’m rather sure that they want their soldiers to die. Those soldiers likely include problematic nobility and other such types that the current royalty wants dead. That’s the only way this makes any sense, right?”

Zolan narrowed his eyes and Quilatalap frowned a little. Poi kept his expressions carefully schooled.

Erick continued, “And those people at those talks were certainly not the zealots that I expected. Like, yes, Killtree was bombastic and clearly evil in a rather normal sort of way, but he also wanted something specific. They all wanted something specific. So I gave them face when I should have given them none, and then they came out with this polite war idea. I feel that they had expected the conversation to go on a lot longer, and for me to try a dozen different ways until I finally hit on the way they wanted. Because, I have no doubt that they want this war. They’re also prepared to lose this war, and by a lot, but the only real ‘losers’ of this war are going to be every single person that opposes those in power over there.” Erick said, “I cannot imagine why they are coming at this conflict from this angle except that they want their soldiers dead… But those are my thoughts based on what I saw. I’ll be asking for everyone else’s opinions, though, so Zolan, set that up.”

Zolan nodded.

Quilatalap was frowning deeply. “I fucking hate war.”

“Me too,” Erick said, “But this war will be ‘polite’, for a while, because it’s better than bombs dropping on Candlepoint and complete turmoil in the Sovereign Cities leading to widespread civilian deaths.”

Quilatalap lost most of his frown.

Poi spoke, “The rules of combat are coming in now. They’re using Polite War Rules, First Edition, which means 100 people on both sides, a fight to the death lasting one hour, and then whoever remains alive the most is the winner.”

“… Oh.” Erick instantly recognized the problem. “And they won’t accept [Reincarnation]ed and [Blessing of Empathy]ed people as ‘dead’, will they?”

“Correct,” Poi said.

Erick thought for a minute, then said, “If they do that, then that is fine. I can lose a battle every night and win the war in return.”

“They also demand that every warrior in the battle actually be in the battle.”

Erick laughed. “Fuck that.”

Poi added, “And if you don’t appear in person with a full contingent of soldiers, then they will send assassins into these lands to ‘take their hundred lives owed on the battlefield’.”

“… And we’re back to the original implied threat, eh.” Erick frowned. “I shouldn’t have even let them speak. Whatever… So what are the chances that if I show up in person that they’ll have some way to kill me?”

Zolan said, “Extraordinarily high.”

Poi said, “Incredibly high.”

Erick frowned. Yeah. He had expected tha—

“You tried for peace,” Quilatalap said, “But now it is time to crush them utterly and remove their threat from Veird. I will be joining you in the battle, tonight and every night going forward. I will remain at your side when they break with politeness, and the time for Ending begins.” He softened a fraction, adding, “Or you turn them into better people. Either is fine.”

Erick paused. He had not expected that. But then… Perhaps he should have. Quilatalap was a relaxed man, until wrongs needed to be righted. He had probably killed more Shades than even Silverite, over the many, many years he had been inside Ar’Kendrithyst. He also stayed out of every conflict he could. But here he was, choosing to get into this conflict.

Erick shouldn’t have expected anything less from Koyabez’s Priest of the Black Order.

Erick almost accepted Quilatalap’s offer—

And then Goldie appeared. “I volunteer as well.”

And then Poi said, “I’m receiving hundreds of offers to volunteer for the polite war… A lot of people saw—” His head tilted a fraction as hundreds of telepathic tendrils tried to connect to him, but then Poi flinched, and those tendrils vanished. “I have them rerouted into a queue as I deal with them, but I can already tell you that most of the offers are coming from dragons you have Benevolenced, and people from Weald.”

Zolan spoke, “I can almost see the tinge of Sumtir’s call to Righteous War, present in the air. But before we get too far down this particular path: we must have a public release of information detailing why we are going to polite war, a private release for our allies, and an in-House release for all of your most trusted people. Also, some army-centric decisions need to happen, like how this organization is going to happen. I suggest you tag Mox for this, since she has the most experience of us Overseers with regard to organizing proactive military forces. This needs to be done now.”

Erick glanced around the room. He saw no divine fire, though, for Zolan was speaking in sayings, not in actuality. Erick said, “Of course, Zolan. So. Let’s get Mox in here and start doing all that.”

And so they did.

- - - -

In a private space, Erick sat with Mox.

They had discussed everything that was to come, and Erick was rather secure at having Mox as his temporary ‘general’; Zolan’s suggestion had been perfect. Mox already knew how to lead people into war of all different kinds, and apparently polite war was something she had ample familiarity with. And yet…

Toward the end, Mox said, “When polite war is enacted, it remains polite about 75% of the time. I don’t think that this war is among that 75%, but if it is… They’re using you, Erick. For unknown reasons that would likely take a whole team of analysts a month to discover, they are using you. Us. All of us. And you know this. And, you seem to be comfortable with this. Why?”

“Because despite their calls for war to the death, I won’t actually be killing anyone.”

“I will say this now: polite war is still war. People die.”

“… Based on the quality of volunteers I’m getting, I hope that with enough power on my side that there will be no need for that sort of outcome.”

“I still believe it is foolish for you to take the field yourself. You should reconsider this.”

“I’m taking the field, Mox. Me and 30 other dragons, 20 people from Stratagold, 20 Elites from Oceanside, and more from Weald, Candlepoint, and Enforcement. There’s a thousand more people waiting in the wing to support House Benevolence, and me. I must take the field.”

There were quite a few private offers from certain peoples that Erick could use if he took the field himself, too. Like Head Inquisitor Kromolok’s offer of providing Mind Mage services in the battle, along with a host of other benefits.

The dark-skinned woman stared at Erick, gauging him as she asked, “What happens when you win this war and they sue for peace? What does that outcome look like to you?”

“I have a plan for that, and it mostly comes down to having every single noble over there voluntarily accept a [Blessing of Empathy].”

“… That will make actual peace rather difficult.” Mox said, “If this war is truly a machination for the royalty to dispose of their problematic elements, then they will not accept you enacting your will directly onto them.”

“Yup! I expect it. But then again, peace is only possible when all the tyrants are dead, so it’s fine if they don’t agree to my demands.” Erick shrugged. “I fully expect this to fall apart either during the first battle, or afterward.”

“Then I would make a suggestion, which requires you to remain out of the battle yourself.”

“… I’ll hear it, because you deserve that much respect and more. But unless it’s a really good reason then I don’t see myself changing my mind, because I’m the only one who can [Reincarnation] a person, and that magic must be done as a part of the battle itself, in order to remain within the rules set forth by ‘Polite War Etiquette, First Edition’. Otherwise we’re back at open war.”

Mox’s suggestion was simple. “Someone must oversee the battle from our side, to ensure that the rules of engagement are followed. Like with that Polite Battle you saw over in Songli; hundreds of people not involved in the actual battle showed up in order to keep the fight contained to the field, and to threaten true reprisal should the outcome not be honored. Of course, then the Chelation War happened.” Mox said, “But still, the world is watching, my king. And you must act like the person you are, now more than ever. You must allow a polite war to happen, and you must oversee that war with absolute authority on our side in case the other side brings dishonor to the battle.”

“… You have a lot of good points but I’m still going to take the field. It’s the only way to have Ophiel on the field. It’s the only way to [Blessing of Empathy] the defeated, and I’ll even offer them [Reincarnation]s; I won’t force that on them. Poi was very right about the importance of choice.”

Mox thought Erick was being absolutely foolish—

“I am a dragon, and a Wizard, and I have enough personal defenses—”

“Defenses won’t matter in the face of antirhine weaponry, or Dragon Hunters, or some other esoteric way to kill people. You are not invincible, Erick. While I will respect your decision, I need you to know that you are not invincible, and I worry.”

Erick smiled softly. “It’ll be fine. Besides; I will not send my people to war without being right there with them.”

Mox said nothing more against that, though she dearly wanted to.

- - - -

Time marched on.

Sunset came to the Sovereign Cities, and so did the volunteer forces of House Benevolence.

Erick and his people had managed to cobble together a working army from hundreds of volunteers, which, if Erick had had more time, he would have personally thanked every single one of them down on that field. Erick also would have dwelt on exactly how absolutely fantastic it made him feel to know, absolutely, that his people were with him. Not everyone was here, of course. Zolan and the Overseers were not here on the battlefield with Erick. Kiri was not on the battlefield, because Erick specifically disallowed her. Poi and Teressa weren’t on the battlefield for the same reason. Poi, Kiri, and Teressa, were behind the field, far away and inside a protective enclosure, cast by Kirginatharp, the Second to Rozeta.

A lot of people stood behind Erick, forming a massive backbone of support. Kirginatharp was only one of the people back there. There was also Queen Strelkova Stratagold, alongside Silverite and others. Many people from Treehome showed up, including Archmage Syllea, and a few of the leaders of the various clans. Weirdly enough, Nirzir Void Song had shown, alongside a few others from Songli. Erick was glad to see the young girl again, and he was even happier to see that she was only vaguely still attracted to him; she had killed that emotion as best she could.

As for the people actually on the field with Erick? The Inquisitor of Rozeta, Kromolok, stood beside him; he would form the Mind Mage support for the battle, acting as a temporary general. He had already pledged his support for every single one of these battles. The two of them had had a long talk about what Erick wanted to do to the defeated soldiers of the Sovereign Cities, and since it wasn’t Mind Control, and since Erick would be giving them options of [Reincarnation] in addition to the forced [Blessing of Empathy], then Kromolok was… Not fine with it. But it was what it was, and the Cities were fighting to the death anyway, which was already a horrible breach of polite war etiquette. Like most wrought when it came to decisions of this sort of magnitude, Kromolok chose to remain neutral since Erick had already proven himself a hundred times over.

Maybe widespread [Blessing of Empathy]s would work out well, too.

Quilatalap also stood beside Erick, and Erick was very thankful for that. Quilatalap was his backup support to ensure no one died.

Tasar the Summoner stood on Erick’s other side. The black and green, adamantium and copper woman held her usual black staff, with her blackberry-like Familiar stationed on the top of that staff. Erick had briefly asked Tasar if she had had any luck with making a Familiar like Ophiel, but she had not, though teaching Kiri had been wonderful, too. Erick was glad for that.

Goldie was beside him, too, though she was behind and in the wind… somewhere.

All of the rest of Erick’s forces were people he knew from here or there. 39 of them were dragons. They were already uncoiled into their pastel, Benevolence-lightning-wreathed draconic forms, each of them 30 to 60 meters long, and gently floating over the grasses.

Then there were Mox’s personal family of airy assassins.

The bulk of Erick’s humanoid-shaped forces were warriors from Weald, who were originally from Ar’Cosmos.

And finally, there was a small contingent of wrought inquisitors who came along with Head Inquisitor Kromolok, to provide further coordination support.

And that was the side of House Benevolence, standing or floating on their side of grassy plains.

It wasn’t a perfect system of soldiers who had lived and worked with each other, who knew how to fight around one another because they had been doing it for so long. But Erick had Kromolok and the people who had come along with him; enough Mind Mage-capable people could fix the organization of any army, even one thrown together from volunteers in the last few hours.

Still, though, Erick’s side looked like a hodgepodge of people and forces.

The Sovereign Cities had obviously been preparing for this for a lot longer.

The Cities fielded regimented troops, each of their hundred people decked out in real armor, layered with spellwork. Some of those people looked dangerous… In any other situation, anyway. Certainly not in this situation.

Behind the Cities’ army, in the distance, floated Platforms filled with people, with giant banners floating above them, like waving flags. Each of those platforms was about half a kilometer away from each other, and each of them were a different color, denoting the City they belonged to.

There were other factions at play besides the Cities, though, including a platform for the Dragon Stalkers, and, strangely enough, a platform for Terror Peaks.

Erick had no fucking clue who the fuck was here from Terror-fucking-Peaks, but the only people on the platform were some kids, barely 16. Maybe not even Matriculated yet. A few kids were even younger than that. Were they the kids that Songli had tried to wrangle, but couldn’t, because the kids had tried to kill their caretakers? Yes. Probably. 99% chance.

Well that fucking sucked.

The entire culture of Terror Peaks was about hiding in wait until they were strong enough to come back from the dead and murder whoever they could murder. And yet. They were kids!

Erick thought that leaving the kids alive had been the right move!

Fuck!

There was also a bonfire of white wood, with an effigy of Erick burning atop that pyre. And a band, and choir. They were singing a song of death to all wizards. Little kids! 12-14! Singing about dismembering Erick and feeding his parts to the dogs!

“Un-fucking-believable,” Erick muttered.

“What part upsets you the most?” Quilatalap asked, his voice not at all kind. He was angry at the Cities, too. “For me, it’s that platform with the crossed shield.”

Erick looked at that platform. “I don’t even know what that is. Nor do I know what the burning book means on that other platform… And that platform with the banner with the burning orb is new to me, too. Lotta new people who hate me, I guess.” He frowned. “Who are the crossed shield people?”

“I told you once that Sumtir killed most of himself to be let onto Veird in the Sundering?” Quilatalap inclined his head toward the platform with the crossed shield. “That’s the Church of Original War; the people who descended from the original version of Sumtir.”

“… Never heard of them. Sorry, Quilatalap.”

“Ehhh. They’re warmongers of the worst kind. And I guess I don’t have a problem with these people; I killed all the ones I had actual problems with a thousand years ago.”

Erick looked over—

Kromolok spoke, “It’s time, if you would have it be time.”

Erick froze. And then he thawed. “Ah. Okay.”

Kromolok explained, “They’re singing that song to add insult, but they’ll send out a speaker as soon as either you or someone else from this side walks forward. If you do not, then they’ll continue to sing even worse songs. Do you want me to speak for this side? Or would you like to do that yourself?”

“Thank you for volunteering, Kromolok, and for coming out to support us. But I will speak for this coalition.”

Kromolok nodded.

Erick sent a pair of Ophiel forward, one of them fluffing up large, the other staying small. Both were arrayed with all the protective magics Erick could muster.

Suddenly, the singers and the band from the Cities went silent. The burning effigy of Erick continued to burn. The people on Charme’s platform, Pearl’s platform, and North Curio’s platform, all continued to drink their wine, though, like they were simply getting in the proper mood for blood sports. South Curio was doing hard drugs instead. Killtree was ready for war; for Erick to step out of line and to start killing.

But no one would be dying here today if Erick could help it.

Each army was a kilometer apart.

Ophiel flew to the center point between the armies.

From the gathered army of the Cities came a woman, floating on light. She wore the same armor as all her people; strong silver stuff, and heavily enchanted. Or maybe she was just using a low-level aura. Hard to tell right now. She also had a dagger of antirhine on her belt, and now that Erick was looking for it, he noticed the same dagger on the belts of every single City soldier. Her sword also had an antirhine core, running down the whole length of the blade.

… And that was supposed to help them?

Like. Sure. Antirhine would disrupt spellwork and make capturing-not-killing every single soldier tougher, but not impossible. Not at all.

The woman and Ophiel floated next to each other.

The woman spoke with authority, “Death to all Wizards. We will not suffer a Wizard to live.”

Erick responded through Ophiel, “There will be no death today, whoever you are. I don’t know what you intend to do with all the antirhine, but perhaps you should not do whatever you are planning, and accept that I will be Empathy-ing all of you today, in order to cease this foolishness in a beneficial manner. If you want I can even [Reincarnation] you and yours, and give you new lives at Candlepoint.”

The woman scowled. “You would like the world to believe you are not the threat that you are, but you can’t fool us, Wizard.” She raised up her dagger, saying, “We drink to the end of Wizardry!”

Time seemed to slow, as Erick’s heart beat hard and he realized the shape of the Cities’ plan right before it happened.

The dagger was not a dagger; it was a flask in the shape of a dagger. The whole thing, ‘sheath’ and all, came off the woman’s belt in one piece. When she uncorked the ‘pommel’ with a flick of her thumb, Erick knew that it was Antirhine Elixir inside that flask.

A few people in the opposing army had already gotten their flasks to their mouths.

The rest were in the process of doing the exact same.

What followed was an absolute cluterfuck that Erick would be dissecting in his mind and with his Overseers and with the other participants in this battle for a long time to come. He had done a bit of pre-game magic crafting in order to make this whole thing easier, but his newly-made [Expandable Slowing Enclosure] was not going to cut it; not against an army of Elixir’d people.

--

Expandable Slowing Shelter, instant, close range, 500 + Variable

Minimize the subjective time of a large area to a variable degree, or expand the area of an existing cast. If one section breaks, the spell will contract, and not fully break.

Base version is 1 minute subjective time over 100 hours real time.

500 points of damage to the barrier will break the effect. Always Restful. Always Cleansing.

--

Erick’s first move was to rapidly move Ophiel into the opposing army and throw out as many Slows as he could.

As areas of Slow wrapped up a lot of people, and parts of people, many remained completely unaffected, due to the copious amounts of antirhine on the field. This led to some people breaking their fellow soldiers out from under Erick’s newest spell, along with a cascade of failures. More people got to drinking their Elixir.

And then there was no easy way to save them all.

Nobles laughed on platforms as they watched Erick and all the rest of House Benevolence and their allies desperately trying not to kill Elixir’d, zealot soldiers, who had very lethal swords in their hands, and who had come to this battle fully ready to die.

Erick’s side of the battle managed to save some of the opposing army before they fully took in those Elixirs, which was entirely thanks to dragons who could use their claws to rip open soldiers and forcefully remove the antirhine potions before they had a chance to really settle in. Goldie did her part, too, forcefully cutting out stomachs and intestinal tracts with the speed and precision of a wartime surgeon.

A lot of people on Erick’s side had to leave, though. The wrought all left, blipping away as fast as they could, for antirhine was almost always a death sentence for people made of metal. Even Kromolok had to vacate the field once the true depths of the City’s willingness to harm their own people for victory stood revealed, though he did maintain coordination efforts as best he could.

No one from Erick’s side of the battle died. There wasn’t even a single injury.

But even with Quilatalap pulling [True Resurrection] duty, and forcefully bringing back people who were mutilated to get rid of the antirhine…

Only 68 City soldiers survived the battle. All of those soldiers were now resting at the Gate District. Erick would get to their actual transformations later. He would not suffer zealots like that to exist as they were; he would have to change them.

But he already knew that, he supposed.

And suddenly, almost as fast as it began, the battle to the death was over.

Erick’s side had won, because none of his people died at all, and some of the Elixir’d soldiers…

They had been beyond saving.

- - - -

Upon a field of gore, Erick stood with Quilatalap, flanked by dragons. Half of Erick’s side had fled once the Elixirs came out, which was completely understandable. Erick didn’t blame Kromolok for evading certain death, and the man had still coordinated the ‘battle’ from the backlines.

Ha!

‘Battle’.

What a joke. It was an extreme rescue sortie against belligerent patients who were trying to kill their doctors—

King Killtree appeared in a flicker of red light, just beyond where the City army had once stood. His voice boomed across the field, “We gladly give our lives so that we might kill that which would kill us all! Now that we have all seen exactly what sort of depredations a Wizard can concoct, tomorrow’s battle will be much more decisive, Erick Flatt, consort of Darkness Itself!”

Erick spoke, “I have won this battle tonight, so in the effort of bringing peace instead of more war, I offer the Sovereign Cities an out. NOTE! Not the Kings, not the Queen! Not the royalty at all. I offer this to the nobles of your lands! We need not continue this war. We need not escalate this war. All you must do is submit your royalty to my spellwork, and you will spare the rest of your Cities from my magics.”

Small laughter erupted from the platforms holding the spectators from the Cities.

… Of course they weren’t going to accept the offer.

But Erick had needed to try, right?

King Killtree, the violent, red-haired, red Force Armored man, laughed once, and then again for effect, before saying, “Look upon the Wizard who tries to divide the world into conquerable parts! Know this, Wizard! The Sovereign Cities will always stand against your evil.” He looked to the others with Erick, adding, “We hope that the good people on your side will see you for your evil and step up and kill you themselves, for it would surely save this world a Sundering… But I don’t see many good people on your side. The wrought fled when they saw your evilness! Now all you have are dragons of your own make, people twisted by your magics and by the magics of Ar’Cosmos, and a Shade and the Archlich of Necromancy! The world sees you, Wizard! We will kill you when—”

Quilatalap had cast a spell, enveloping only Erick and himself.

There, in the middle of a tyrant dictator’s speech, with blood underfoot and dead bodies and parts of bodies scattered on the field, there was a small spot of timelessness. Nothing moved outside of Quilatalap and Erick’s little space.

And Erick was so very thankful for the break.

His hands shook with rage. His heart thrummed with hate. He looked up to Quilatalap, and said, “Thank you. I was losing it.”

Quilatalap reached out to Erick, his hand open and inviting. “Yeah. Me too.”

Erick took Quilatalap’s hand, briefly squeezing. He smiled softly. “Ahh…” He looked down at the ripped up ground under his hovering feet. At the blood and the… The half a hand down there, laying on the edge of a crater. “… This is a lot.”

Quilatalap smiled, also squeezing softly. “Your horns are showing.”

Erick instantly released Quilatalap’s hand and touched his head. He felt horns; three of them on each side of his head, like a minor crown. “Fuck!” He tried pushing them back but they were not going. “Fuck. Okay. Okay—”

“They mostly came out after I put up the [Time Stop].” Quilatalap said, “A few people noticed some black spikes in your hair, but it’s not a big deal.”

Erick sighed, still trying to force the horns inward. “It is a big deal, though… I didn’t even show you my form and you guessed I look like Melemizargo based on my horns. And instantly, too! Gods above this is going to be another fucking nightmare.” He scowled across the field at King Killtree. “Asshole would have a parade over this.”

“Well I think your horns are hot.” Quilatalap smirked. “But I’m not most people, so you’re probably right. Also, this spell will last us another 10 minutes, so… What do you want to do here?”

“… Well. The people on the Platforms are not wearing antirhine shit, and King Killtree certainly isn’t, so I’m thinking I end this problem right now. [Slowing Enclosure]s all around. Take them all out so they don’t get a chance to go to proper war when I’m not prepared for it.”

“It’s gonna get messy if you do that.”

Erick had finally got his horns to stay hidden.

So now, he simply thought.

Weighing options. Calculating mana costs. Considering lesser paths of war… And then throwing out those options.

“… What’s the worst you think they’re capable of, in reprisal?”

“There are a few magics out there that are not Banned or Sealed or Forgotten Campaigned because they’re too crucial to how Veird functions. If they know these magics, they could do some true damage.” Quilatalap said, “Destruction Magic, for one. A properly tuned [Cleanse] can kill most people right away, eating through 10,000 Health and then the targeted person in a matter of moments. Then there are binary and ternary Decay Magics, and those get nasty. They could have dosed you with one of them while you weren’t looking, and then they send out the activation magics and suddenly you’re dead. That particular way of murder got a lot easier with the advent of Particle Magic. It’s rather rare, but… It’s still possible. Then you got Antirhine Elixir that they could dump all over Candlepoint which could be a problem. Elixir moves a lot better than dust.” He gestured to the land around them, saying, “This whole place is now condemned due to all the Elixir these people used, and which we ripped out of them. The small splashes of silver and all those infected stomachs don’t look like much now, but it will spread with rain.”

Erick’s heart sank.

And then Erick steeled his heart. “I’m not living in fear. I’m ending this now— Wait. I have a better idea. Give me a second to compose a telepathic letter... and… Okay. Unless Kromolok’s response is to tell me to not do this, and that we need another way, then I will be ending this now. Drop the [Time Stop].”

Quilatalap smiled as he looked down at Erick. He turned his attention back to the battlefield, saying, “You’re pretty great, Erick.”

“You are too!”

“Heh. Thanks.”

Quilatalap cut the [Time Stop].

Erick sent out his message to Kromolok.

Killtree gave a few more insults. He spoke of evils and some such shit—

Kromolok sent, ‘We’re with you, Erick. End this threat, and then we’re moving on to all the Cities. There will be no more polite battles.’

For a brief moment, Erick foresaw what was to come.

And then lancing beams of light cut through Killtree, incinerating him mid-speech.

People screamed.

And Goldie released her [Teleport Lock] aura, the divine power of the Dark, ensuring that none escaped.

Most people lived, but not as who they were. They were now new people, with new priorities in their life.

Instead of ‘getting theirs / fuck everyone else’ and ‘doping bread with drugs to make addicts out of customers’ and ‘raping prisoners of war’, they now desired to ‘help their fellow man through all the hard times’ and ‘ensure orphans got enough good, clean food’ and ‘clean up the environment’.

As the world fractured under the power of [Reincarnation], and many of Erick’s allies watched him work his magic, Erick found out a lot of facts about a lot of people he would rather have not known, but which he could not turn a blind eye to, anymore. Secrets spilled into the open. Horrors of what people already were, and small slivers of what they could be, if things had been different.

These people were users of the worst sort.

Oddities stood out, of course.

The royals of the Cities were easy to capture. Surprisingly easy. That was a red flag. The reasons for that were revealed when Erick fractured the world with [Reincarnation], and discovered the ‘royals’ fates were that of servants.

The King of Charme was an actor from a playhouse, according to all the stage plays in his fractured future. The Queen of Pearl was a handmaiden to the real Queen. The stand-ins for Sook and Xaro were both guards in their respective Cities. Erick had no ‘King Killtree’ to check, for that man was now dust in the wind.

Which meant the real royals, each of them with a Domain, were also sort of dust in the wind.

They would show up when they wanted to. Maybe even King Killtree had been some sort of stand-in.

For now, Erick and his people advanced on the Sovereign Cities, one at a time.

They started with Killtree.