Chapter: 389 Bonus - New Years Around the World (Patreon)

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Meallain poured herself another drink before picking up the two mugs and carrying them to the top of a tower on the edge of Platoiri as midnight approached.

She’d have preferred to be within the House of Blood hold, but she wasn’t strictly allowed in Platoiri at the moment, so going deep enough inside to reach there wouldn’t have been possible.

That hardly mattered though.

As of midnight, it would be one year to the day since Little Be had been killed and Eskau Tali had been lost.

The fact that it lined up on the first day of the year was incidental.

Generally speaking, celebration of the turning of the year was done in smaller groups and units, the major Houses purposely not doing anything for it, so that people could be with those they wanted to be with, or ignore the turning of the year at their preference.

But those she wanted to be with were dead and gone. On the other side, how could she ignore the turning of the year when it was such a stark reminder of the loss?

Her efforts to make the tragedy better were pathetic, but she didn’t know what else to do.

She had utterly purged Platoiri of those opposed to the House of Blood.

The City Lord had summoned her to his home to personally reprimand her.

She’d spat at his feet.

That had apparently been more than the City Lord would allow.

Looking back, she could admit that she’d been foolish to push him at the very center of his seat of authority.

In her more honest moments, she had admitted to herself that she’d wanted to push him while he was at his best—even if she had clearly come out on the losing end in their previous exchange.

She’d thought that the worst thing he could do was kill her.

If he had killed her, her pain would have been over, and she could be with those she’d lost, having died with honor.

She had been sure she knew what to expect.

She’d been wrong.

She hadn’t even seen him move.

When she’d woken from her coma three weeks later, she’d wiped out one final minor house that had been vocally against her actions as well as the House of Blood, even though they’d not acted on those words.

She knew that doing so was an act of petulance befitting a child more than an ancient Hallowed, but she hadn’t cared.

At that point, Pillar Sanguis had taken her to task so that the City Lord wouldn’t put her down, banishing her from Platoiri altogether.

They should have just let me clean up the unworthy then take the fall.

She’d left Platoiri then, traveling around and testing the patience of City Lords far and wide.

She had made the streets of nearly every arcane city with a House of Blood presence run with the blood of their enemies.

Finally, the House Council had censured her, making it publicly known throughout the Cities that she was acting outside of their directives. Only Pillar Cruas, her Pillar, had voted to commend her service instead.

She felt fleeting regret for how her actions would cause him issue, but he’d assured her that he would be fine, regardless. Though, he had asked her to care for herself.

What else could she do, now?

The cowards had taken away the very purpose behind her crusade.

If she couldn’t kill for the House of Blood—in the name of the House she loved more than her own flesh and blood—there was no point.

Even so, when she had returned to Platoiri for this anniversary, the pet Pallaun had taken her constructs, even placing a cuff on her to keep tabs on her activities.

He likely saw it as a kindness to allow her even this much.

It probably was, as Pillar Sanguis certainly wouldn’t have wanted her within the city at all.

But that didn’t matter.

It was politics.

She hated politics.

Meallain looked out over the city that had been the death of the last true heir to the House of Blood.

Their legacy was all that was left, and she was forbidden from securing it.

The House of Blood, itself, was all that was left, and she was on the verge of being expelled from it.

True, the founders had always put more emphasis on competence than direct inheritance. That had been the whole point.

I am the most competent Eskau, yet they won’t use me. They won’t even let me use myself.

The founding family had allowed others to gain power, and now those others were all that remained.

Even so, the founders had been the heart of the House as long as they’d lived.

They’re gone forever, now.

Little Be had worried Meallain for decades, making her fear that he would never live up to his legacy. Then, beyond all expectation, he’d returned with the girl, Tali.

That had been a stroke of genius.

She had been a true demonstration of the ultimate ideals of the House.

If even a human could be a source of power for the House of Blood—if even a human could stand near the pinnacle of their organization—then, all could come and gain standing.

The boy had gone about it in a rather… unfortunate manner—in fact, Meallain would have stopped his experiment if she’d known he was going to attempt it—but the idea at the core was what had been most important.

He did a good thing in a very bad way. Isn’t that the first step? Didn’t that mean that he’d been improving?

He’d spent so much of his life doing mediocre or bad things—usually in bad ways—skirting the edges of what he could get away with.

His Tali had been different, proof that he could do better.

But she’s gone too. Even his last major act had ended in failure.

At the stroke of midnight, Meallain poured out one of the mugs in memory of the last scion of the House of Blood and drained the second to drown her own sorrow.

“Thus dawns the first year of an eternal absence.”

Her voice resonated out over the city.

It wasn’t heard by anyone, that hadn’t been the point, but she’d laced it with power nonetheless.

All across Platoiri, celebrants felt themselves reminded of their losses in the past year.

They were more prone to mourn, more prone to weep.

Her power had evoked one last dirge for little Be.

It was all that she could do.

It wasn’t enough.

* * *

Thron laughed with his warriors as they celebrated in his new great hall, deep within the earth and stone.

It had been trivial for Thron to gather warriors to himself with a concept blade in his hand.

Those warriors brought families along with them, and the group had needs ranging from food and drink to equipment replacement and maintenance.

After a few successful raids, Thron had amassed the funds necessary to entice craftsmen and other lay-workers.

Those had, of course, come with families and needs of their own.

In short order, Thron was the head of a clan's worth of dwarves, even if he hadn’t forged them into a traditional clan, not yet, and maybe not ever.

He’d made something new.

All were welcome, so long as they followed the laws that he’d put in place.

They had plenty of room because he’d delved into the lost metropolises of the ancients.

Most had been dwarven, but they’d also claimed lofty halls from the now extinct deep giants and more elegant, twisting labyrinths of the now surface dwelling dark elves.

He was amazed how often such ancient enemies had their fastnesses within short tunneling range.

His clan now dwelled in a rough sphere of interconnected tunnels and caverns, deep, deep beneath the surface of Zeme.

It was fabulous.

As another round of drinks were poured, Thron toasted Tala in his own mind, the crazy human, former Eskau who’d given him the sword that had made all of this possible.

I hope that you found a way home, girl, along with a way to survive. He drained his mug in one long pull in her honor before calling for another.

He’d likely never see her again, but he couldn’t argue that she hadn’t changed his destiny in their brief time together.

The concept sword lay on the table beside him, on a special platter that resisted the corrosive aura the weapon constantly emitted.

By this point, the weapon was so imbued with his concept that no one besides Thron would ever be able to wield it.

Anyone even of a similar power level to him would lose the hand that tried to even pick it up.

He smiled at that.

And I’m growing in power, yet again.

They’d found several… sources locked in stasis within ancient vaults, or twisted into horrid creatures.

Those were always the greatest prizes of any expedition he led into the ruins that were their surroundings.

Through those expeditions, he’d furnished his clan with magical power sources that would last them for decades.

A few of those sources were vestiges that had somehow found their way down here.

Most, however, were ancient soul-engines, devices of which the method of manufacture was lost to time.

They were the inefficient precursors to gated humans and vestiges.

They provided the power that made his clan more than just a rogue group that would have to disperse as their magic ran dry.

Things were changing on the surface, but Thron—and those who came to him—would weather the coming storm.

He’d ensure that if it were the last thing he did.

* * *

Lyn and Kannis lounged in their sitting room, each reading a book while drinking a celebratory drink.

Fannas was in the kitchen experimenting again.

Over the last hour, the two women had done their level best to ignore the little silver man’s mutterings, along with the clip, clip of chopping knives and the myriad other, standard kitchen noises.

However, the small keeperling seemed to have reached a stopping point, as his unusually deep voice called out from the side room, “Bonded! You must try this. I think it is excellent.”

Kannis closed her eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. She still didn’t like being called that.

Lyn didn’t try to hide her mirthful grin. She didn’t even bother looking up from her book as she chuckled.

Kannis nodded once to herself before responding, “What is it, Fannas?”

“Fannas soup!”

“You made up another dish?”

“I did. It is most excellent.”

“...You can’t eat, Fannas. How do you know it is excellent?”

“Because I have now read many, many recipes, and I have found the commonalities.”

“This isn’t like your sawdust pie?”

“No, that was an unfortunate misunderstanding.”

“Nor your mud tonic?”

“Some of your kind use mud to treat the skin, why shouldn’t it help even more if ingested? You creatures ingest things, why not utilize that oddity?”

“So…?”

“This is not like those, no. I have studied your kind’s sustenance preparation methods, and I have kept my recent experiments within those bounds.”

“Experiments? Plural?”

“Yes.”

“Why is this first I am hearing of this new batch?”

“My recent research was quite clear that unintentionally blackened or raw foods were not palatable.”

“That is true.”

“Good. I did not wish to present you with failed experiments.”

Lyn cleared her throat and spoke softly, “Go try it, Kannis. It shouldn’t be lethal, and he’s clearly trying.”

Kannis nodded in acquiescence and stood, setting her book and drink on the table beside her chair. “Alright, Fannas, I’m excited to see what you’ve been able to come up with.”

“You will not be disappointed.” He sounded very sure of himself.

She saw a bowl of soup already on the table and briefly wondered how he’d gotten it there so cleanly. After all, the table was much higher than he was tall.

Regardless, she supposed that was the least of the mysteries surrounding the keeperling.

The soup itself didn’t look bad.

In fact, it looked quite good.

There were shaved carrots, and… “Fannas?”

Fannas walked out from behind the kitchen counter, his little apron lightly sprinkled with various foods, his sleeves rolled up to be kept immaculately clean. “Yes, bonded?”

Kannis twitched, still not used to being referred to in that manner. “What is in this?”

“Caramelized onions, butter to caramelize the onions in, garlic, shredded carrots, broccoli, a few other vegetables, and spices.”

She leaned forward, inhaling deeply. “It smells very good.”

“Thank you, bonded.”

Kannis took up the spoon and took a careful sip.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she quickly took a full bite.

Over the next minute or two, she tried each of the various vegetables, and found that each type was cooked to perfection, the spices balancing the flavors both in the broth and for each individual ingredient. “This is excellent!”

“Thank you, bonded.”

“Lyn, you have to try some.”

Lyn stood, setting her book aside. “I’d love to.”

Fannas bowed, “Your bowl is ready.”

Kannis hesitated, looking up to find another bowl and spoon set out across from her.

How had he gotten that there?

She hadn’t seen him move, let alone place the food on the table.

Lyn came over and sat down, carefully taking a bite.

Her eyes widened in surprise as well. “Oh, Fannas! This really is good.”

“Thank you, Mistress master to my bonded.”

Lyn quirked a smile. “Are you ever going to call me Lyn, Fannas?”

“I think that calling you Mistress Lyn, master to my bonded is too long of a moniker. So, I have shortened it. Do you wish for me to use your full name?”

She blinked a few times. “No? Why not just Lyn?”

Fannas shook his head. “That would be even longer, Mistress master to my bonded.”

“How do you mean?”

The little keeperling chuckled. “It is obvious that ‘Mistress just Lyn, master to my bonded’ is even longer than ‘Mistress Lyn, master to my bonded.’”

Lyn opened her mouth to continue to press, but then decided that it wasn’t worth it, turning back to the soup. “Regardless, this is excellent.”

Fannas bowed, accepting the praise.

“May I ask why you’ve made it?”

“I wish to learn skills that will benefit my bonded, and she consumes sustenance multiple times per day. If I can help provide such, I will increase my usefulness.”

Lyn grunted. That did make sense.

Kannis smiled. “Fannas, you don’t need to provide utility. You are a companion.”

“A companion that is of no benefit can be left at a moment’s notice.”

“I suppose, but I’m not going to do that.”

“Of course you won’t; I can now make tasty soup.”

The two humans smiled, chuckling.

Fannas bowed once again, “I also desire to wish you both a happy new year.”

The two looked at eachother. Lyn was the first to speak, “Is it that late already?”

Kannis sighed, nodding. “I suppose it probably is. We need to get some sleep.” She took another bite, “But maybe after another bowl.”

Fannas interjected. “It is two minutes past midnight.” After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “Did I get the well-wishes incorrect?”

Kannis shook her head. “No, you said them correctly.”

He nodded, seeming resolute. “Then, is it not customary for you two to reciprocate the sentiment?”

She gave an acknowledging nod of her head. “You are most correct, Fannas. I apologize.”

“Think nothing of it, bonded.”

“Happy new year, Fannas.”

Lyn gave a seated bow as well, “Happy new year, Fannas.”

Fannas bowed deeply. “Thank you, bonded and Mistress master to my bonded. Many happy returns to us all, and may the sun burn brightly for eons yet to come.”

* * *

Noelle leaned back, staring up through the hole in her workshop roof.

The other Mages of her little community were up on top of the massive stump, celebrating the turning of the year.

Quite a few walked directly overhead, not aware that they were striding across a magically generated and disguised surface.

Noelle felt herself smile. I do good work.

A Garic sent her a grunting impulse through their pseudo-bond.

She waved her hand dismissively. “I’ll feed you in the morning.”

Another Garic sent a similar request.

“Rust it, Garic. I’m trying to contemplate deeper truths.”

A flurry of signals came her way, causing her to sigh.

“I am obviously talking to all of you. I’m always talking to all of you when I just say ‘Garic.’ I’d give you different names, but as your personalities are simply a reflection of my view of you, it would be silly of me to do so.”

Kevin sent an inquiry.

“Not you Kevin; you’re special.”

The Garics grunted in unified, identical dissatisfaction.

Kevin cooed happily through the link.

The discontentment of the Garic’s continued to rise until Noelle snapped. “We’ve discussed this before. It’s because Kevin is a girl.”

The Garics quieted down, but they were clearly not happy about it.

Noelle turned her gaze to look at the mushrooms that grew around her workshop, her eyes resting on one in particular for a moment longer.

Kevin had a handkerchief draped over her cap, the square of fabric looking like nothing so much as a veil.

How long has that been there, anyway?

She couldn’t really remember, but it had to be less than four hundred years.

None of this was here four hundred years ago.

She couldn’t even remember if she’d thrown the cloth, and it landed on a mushroom, or if the mushroom had grown up under it after she’d thrown it.

It didn’t really matter.

That mushroom was Kevin, and Noelle wasn’t about to take away her veil.

As Noelle looked around the space, she took in the dasgannach in their tanks.

She honestly still couldn’t decide between disposing of them or getting more.

The heavy Mage with an inside out Archon star had bonded with one.

That had been… irritating to learn.

After all, Noelle had tried everything, and it had failed every time.

Now, she had purchased notes and memories of the process, and she was left utterly unable to decide how to proceed.

All I need to do is infect myself with the creature, along with embedding an Archon Star of their desired material within my body, then take a nice little teleport.

But even that wasn’t a guarantee.

She’d tried similar things, obviously, but normal dasgannach would take what they could get and leave.

Something about the modifications done to Tala’s dasgannach had rendered it unable to leave any material behind, thus creating a true no-win situation for the creature.

That was what forced the bond.

So, do I need to find an arcane I can trade for the information?

She might be able to find a City Lord interested in some of her research, but would it be worth it?

Kevin didn’t think so.

To be fair, Kevin didn’t like change, so of course she would oppose trying such a dangerous gambit.

Noelle sighed, rolling backward off her perch, lightly coming to her feet.

She shouldn’t be alone, at least not if she was going to stay awake.

So, which is it? Sleep or socialization?

She looked up again.

It seemed like her underlings were trying the newly engineered mushroom that could be used to make a tincture with intoxicating properties similar to alcohol, but with a bacon-like flavor, and a full complement of vitamins.

Honestly, it was among the sillier combinations of traits she’d seen in the last couple of years.

Before that, someone had really wanted a mushroom that would taste like coffee while putting the consumer into a deep, dreamless sleep.

That hadn’t really been as silly, but it stood out as being oddly contradictory to her mind.

“I should join them, shouldn’t I, Kevin?” She looked to the veiled mushroom.

The one beside Kevin shivered slightly, releasing a cloud of spores from his gills.

“Garic, I wasn’t talking to you.”

Kevin ignored the interruption, swaying slightly before sending a feeling of assent to her mind.

“Huh… ‘The unrooted quickly wither, and my kind’s roots take the form of relationships to others like me?’”

Kevin sent agreement yet again.

“That is oddly wise, Kevin. Thank you. I’ll feed you first, tomorrow.”

Kevin didn’t seem to feel the need to respond.

She waved goodbye to Kevin and then also a Garic beside the door on her way out, going to celebrate the new year with those of her own kind.

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