Nephthys exhaled forcefully. Had she been too short with a potential king? Probably, in retrospect, but she was annoyed. There had been several attempts to scry Nemesis over the past few days, but she just gained a small awareness, a thought of, “Oh, the enchantments just blocked another scry,” whenever it happened. It was unobtrusive, handled automatically by Nemesis, so she ignored it.
She now floated hundreds of feet above the pyramid, having wanted to use her Gate spell. As luck would have it, not only had someone attempted a divination yet again, while she happened to be outside the guild, but it was Farsight this time. Rather than a brief awareness, this spell felt like someone shouting in her ear when it arrived.
She felt justified for being slightly terse, considering.
On the plus side, it had given her the chance to test more magic. Counterspell was the obvious choice whenever loud, unexpected magic came screaming into your ears, but reversing a Farsight would have simply allowed her to view the caster and his surroundings. Instead, she decided to try chaining a second spell to her counterspell.
The process turned out to be simpler than she imagined, though she suspected her mental model deserved the credit more than any cleverness on her part. In her mindspace, she saw the myriad strings, all vibrating together to create a chord, a spell. All she had to do was smoothly transition the chord into another.
Playing two chords consecutively tickled her mind in a way that was hard to describe, the counterspell chaining a mind mirror to ‘possess’ the caster. Obviously, it was not true possession. Nephthys did not transfer bodies or anything so extreme. It simply paralyzed the victim’s mind while making his body mimick her own.
Granted, this was as close as she was willing to get to the ‘icky’ territory of mind magic. Prelude had precious little of it, but what did exist was unquestionably crossing boundaries. Most players ignored it simply because it could only be used on NPCs, and manipulating NPCs was never efficient because they were not as powerful as players. However, there were nasty implications, now that this world was real.
Nephthys surveyed the Crater, barren and hellish, as always. To her eyes, it was beautiful. Tremendous plumes of mana of all colors swirled and mixed violently across the landscape. A low green cloud clung to the ground in a depression over there, a column of dark blue mana swirled like a tornado over here, probably indicating—
Whoosh!
A geyser of superheated water and steam erupted from the ground, shooting into the air and scalding the rocks nearby, which sizzled where the water hit. Sure enough, as the mana foretold.
This world, or perhaps this continent specifically, was violent and brutal, turbulent beyond prediction, but unquestionably alive. This was a real, living world. The fact settled over Nephthys as it had not yet, always being pushed to the back of her mind. She was in an entirely new, yet also familiar, world.
“Yes, Ramose?” she asked, finally acknowledging his presence.
He hovered nearby, great wings of black feathers on his back. Strangely, they did not flap. They shifted around slightly a few times every second while his body remained motionless in the air. It reminded her of the videos she had seen of birds, where their heads remain centered despite their bodies shifting around mid-flight.
“I merely wished to accompany you, my lady. Much of our situation is still unknown. I would not leave you without an escort,” he said, somehow managing to bow gracefully while hovering.
Nephthys chuckled internally, though it did bridge the gap between her mind and expressionless body. She appreciated the gesture, but the notion of anyone from Nemesis protecting her was laughable. It would be the other way around, if anything. Ramose likely recognized this as well, but something-something-something ‘duties’ or somesuch.
Truthfully, it was only laughable literally right this second, after she had completed her field test of spell chaining. Only now did she feel safe enough to fully emerge from Nemesis, competent enough to cast all the spells in her arsenal, if needed. She even fantasized about conducting a mental symphony of hundreds of chained spells.
What wonderous music would that make?
“Did you have any plans out here, my lady? I might be able to help make preparations,” Ramose offered.
Nephthys looked out across the Crater again, taking in the sight, burning it into her memory. She had to remember this. The world is real. The people are alive. She, for some reason, has tremendous power at her fingertips. She could not use it carelessly, and she could not behave as she did when this world was a game.
If it ever was.
“I only wanted some fresh air. It has been two centuries, after all,” she said.
“Understandable, my lady,” Ramose nodded. He glanced up at the sulfurous, red sky, “Perhaps ‘fresh’ is not the operative word, but it is good to get out occasionally.”
She chuckled, this time audibly, though it was, once again, a strangled, gurgling sound. Were Djinn actually emotionless creatures by nature, or was it her body specifically that was…malfunctioning?
With a crack that was felt more than heard, a mirrorlike rift appeared in the air behind her.
“Come. Use my gate this time,” Nephthys ordered, having witnessed the poor man fly all the way here from the front gate.
“Many thanks, my lady,” Ramose said.
They both passed through the mirror, and it winked from existence.
8th day of the13th swell, 1355 PE
Today is an auspicious day. I have been appointed to a project of Grand Importance to the Empire—by the Emperor himself, no less! Me, an average, everyday magister!
My new title is: Chief Magister of the Dimensional Division. It sounds so grand when I say it aloud! Apparently, the Primus of Kankadia informed the emperor directly of my skill with gates. This news shocked me more than the appointment itself. I had no idea the Primus was watching! I would have dressed better!
My post will be in the capital, which I leave for in a matter of days. Mother has been beside herself, oscillating wildly from pride in my accomplishments to grief at my departure. Father is stoic as always, but I see the strangled smile he forces whenever speaking of my trip. I will miss them dearly.
I have not yet been informed of the project's goals or details, but it sounds like a grand purpose. Even the name, Dimensional Division, has my blood boiling with excitement. Alternate dimensions are a mere hypothesis right now. Perhaps I speculate incorrectly, but the chance to be at the forefront of an emerging field of magecraft is truly the opportunity of a lifetime!
Perhaps, when I come back to reexamine my journal, this entry will mark the start of my journey to greatness.
Eraya, Chief Magister
Nephthys set the slate down, drumming her fingers on it. She sat in one of the comfortable chairs within the archive. She had decided to research this world with what knowledge she had collected. She had read most of the books present, but when the world was merely a game, a quick skim of each was enough for her. Now, she wanted every detail she could gather.
These logs or journal entries had always intrigued her. They were short and concise, so she had always retained them better than the longer volumes she simply skimmed. Nephthys possessed a few of these journals from Eraya, but this one in particular caught her attention, as it broached a subject that seemed particularly relevant to her situation.
Dimensional research.
Was that related to what happened to Addy? Did she get dragged across dimensions somehow? Was—
“My lady, I have brought her as you requested,” Ramose said, interrupting her musing.
He descended the stairs with Tara in tow, whose eyes were wider than dinner plates. Was she impressed by the displays above, or did Khara leave an impression on her? Either way, the expression was amusing. It was almost exactly what Nephthys had in mind when she imagined showing people her vault, stirring a small ember of pride within her chest.
“Do you know how to read?” she asked, startling Tara out of her reverie.
“Yes,” she responded defensively, as if offended by the question.
Nephthys raised a mental eyebrow. Her impression of the clans and tribes around Ashreach did not give the impression of valuing formal education, so she thought the question fair. Perhaps Tara had a unique upbringing?
She brushed the curiosity aside. She meant it when she told Tara she would not pry.
“Imhotep,” she said, looking up toward the ceiling.
“Yes, my lady,” he said, descending from where he was hiding, likely intending to give Nephthys privacy. She appreciated it, though he did not need to cling to the ceiling like a spider. That was a bit extreme.
“Will you help Tara pick out books to read? You are a learned fellow, so will you gather what you can of knowledge she might be missing from what could be considered a ‘general’ education? We might not have all the tomes we need for proper schooling, but I suspect our guest has already had some form of instruction,” Nephthys said, unable to resist poking Tara to see how she would react.
Her eyes widened a touch, but she was quick to school her expression.
Very interesting.
“Of course, my lady. It would be my pleasure. You might even say I am uniquely suited for such tasks,” he declared proudly.
Tara blanched as he drew closer, wrapping a bandage around her shoulder and guiding her toward a shelf. She looked at Nephthys, as if in need of rescue, which made her chuckle. Tara would be fine. Imhotep was nice, just…his presence took some getting used to.
“What is the report, Ramose?” Nephthys asked once the two were out of earshot.
“Thus far, we have only what can be picked up from idle conversation. Theron is personable, so they are beginning to open up to him. Based on what little he has heard, we think it is unlikely that any of the former slaves have family or a home to go back to.
“Conditions in Ashreach, or in the Crater and Peaks, at least, seem just as vicious as two centuries ago, though even less organized. Rumors abound of civilization near the southern coast, but that is all they are: rumors. One would have to cross the Gloam to reach the coast, an impossible feat for these folks. None that left ever returned, though that does not necessarily mean they died.
“At the very least, we have not seen any indication that they are spying or attempting subterfuge. Slipping a spy in among the slaves would be a clever but standard tactic for someone battlefield-inclined, so my supposition based on this is that these warlords trade largely in brute strength and domination rather than intellect.
“Not that every single one will be the same, obviously,” Ramose finished, clasping his hands behind his back and allowing Nephthys time to process his report in silence.
She pondered his report for a long moment, turning it over in her mind.
“I see. It has only been a few days. Most have not even recovered from their starvation yet. Continue to monitor for the time being, but keep it respectful. Do not push and pry unless you see a need. Until we are given reason to believe otherwise, they are victims, nothing more.
“As they recover, try to begin offering jobs. Some could help in the kitchen, others could clean, and any other menial task you think they could do. Do not force it, and be polite. We do not need their labor, but idle hands, especially ones indebted, can become restless. Many will feel better accepting our hospitality if they feel they are helping us in return.
“Once everyone is recovered and we have more information about the Crater, we can begin looking toward the future, both ours and theirs,” she said, turning to watch Tara run her finger over the spines of the various books, obviously working hard to not glance in Imhotep’s direction.
“Of course, my lady,” Ramose affirmed.