[Foundation]
— Ancalagon —
For me, the changing of forms was akin to changing clothes. But it hadn’t started that way.
Ancalagon the Black had had only one form, fully Draconic and massive enough that his fall had Turned an Age. He’d been the size of a castle, but not a mountain. The shattering of Thangorodrim, the first and last thing I’d known as the Black, was a matter of meteoric impact, not sheer, crushing size.
For the Black’s physical size was not nearly as relevant as the size of his Legend and his Authority. The Greatest of the Dragons in that First Age, imbued with the Authority to wage a War of Great and Terrible Wrath in his Dark Lord’s name.
I’d known the Black for mere merging moments, yet his very being set the stage for mine. Without him, my soul — my Fëa — would’ve found nothing to anchor itself upon. Without his death, I would not have been able to live and Turn to new Ages.
It was in my second Age that my malleability of form came to be, for that was the Nature of Dragons in that Age. The Change of Shape was innate, a magic that settled into me as I settled into that second Age.
In the beginning, I’d been a Draconic fledgling in soul and being, but not in frame. I’d been so young and so old already. It’d been disorienting.
I knew what it was to wake to a strange new existence.
Now, two of the souls I walked beside were doing the same. Amy, at least, had the guidance of her Guardian Spirit; I’d sensed her welcoming Isis in linking spirits after I helped to connect them.
The second awakening, the little one known as Vista, had no such luck in guidance; her powers, in their alien nature, had thrown her straight into the deep end.
And so, as she woke to her ‘Second Trigger’, I gave her my attention for the journey back to PRT HQ.
Vista was objectively adorable, tiny with wild blonde hair. The features her costume revealed were pretty enough, yet they plainly showed her age.
I got the feeling she usually felt the need to stressingly show her maturity at every occasion. She meant serious business, wanting so badly to show the world that, wanting so badly to be taken seriously. And there was good reason for her to desire such respect; even if most were unable to look past her youth, she was undeniably powerful.
Not just by this Age’s scale, either; her grasp over the fabric of space, focused as it was through her Shard, would likely let her hold her own against some of my Hoard.
A little one with the weight of awesome power on her tiny shoulders, yet she used it to be a hero.
Vista’s first action upon stirring was the wince to end all winces. A grimace that left her clutching her head and moaning softly to herself. Beneath her visor, that adorable face screwed itself tight enough to ache.
I wouldn’t claim to know what was happening in her Shard-connected mind, but it obviously wasn’t a gentle thing.
“Anyone get the number of the Dragon that didn’t hit me so hard I can now taste nanometers and atoms…?” She whimpered and asked.
“I am right here, Vista. You may ask for my ‘number’ yourself,” I said, chuckling slightly.
“Ah!” Vista nearly jumped out of her skin before suddenly going almost completely slack. “Oh… Oh~… Why does your voice hit like the best painkiller I’ve never had?”
“That would be your power shutting up for a moment as it tries and fails to cope with my very being,” I answered honestly.
“I-… huh,” Vista fell silent; I could tell her eyes were now open by the way she was looking over at me. “Can you keep talking, then?”
“As you wish,” I agreed. “I don’t mind sparing a bit of attention to help you find the time you need to adjust. Think of it as the start of my apology, the least I can do.”
The impromptu convoy to PRT HQ was a subdued thing. Armsmaster had his motorcycle, Dauntless had his power-imbued boots, New Wave was flying alongside with Victoria carrying Amy, and the Wards were riding in a PRT transport with its back doors open. My Dragonkin form easily kept up with the vehicles and powers.
The trip was a purposefully open and transparent thing, letting all we passed see us.
I gleaned the PR implications immediately, but didn’t mind playing my part in them. I waved at gawking spectators, making it clear that I was going with the heroes of my own volition.
Even as I did, though, Vista had most of my focus.
The others were paying close attention as I spoke with Vista — protectively for the Protectorate heroes (and likely Dragon, too), and curiously for the New Wave girls.
“Other than the overstimulation, how do you feel, Vista?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s the stuff,” Vista said, shifting so she was sitting up in the back of the transport to better speak to me. “I’m, uh… I think I’m good. Really good… I could lift you right now.”
“That would be something to see,” I chuckled. “A new product of your power?”
“I… think so,” Vista nodded slowly. “In my domain, I am supreme. I’m gonna have to go through power testing all over again, but honestly? I kinda can’t wait.”
“Try not to push yourself just yet, Vista,” Dauntless said, coming to join the conversation at the back of the transport.
“I’m not, though,” Vista insisted, trying to put her new powers into words. “I don’t know if I can anymore. It’s like night and day.”
“And that isn’t at all terrifying…” Gallant muttered.
“Whatcha got going on now, Lil V?” Victoria asked.
“Well, my range?” Vista began. “I could probably reach the top of Ancalagon’s [IMPOSSIBLE] tower now. 1.5 miles, by the way, in a sphere all around me: that’s my new domain. And I just… I know everything in it.”
“That is accurate,” I confirmed. “And impressive, indeed. But I imagine even if you can reach my tower’s tip, you still cannot grasp it.”
“No,” Vista shook her head. “I can’t. It’s… a blank space. But not like people are with my Manton Limit. More… unknowable and undefinable than hard-limited.”
“Your Manton Limit is still in place. That’s good, at least,” Gallant breathed a sigh of relief.
“Kinda,” Vista waved her hand so-so and didn’t say anything more.
“Kind of? Would you care to elaborate, Vista?” Dragon asked, her voice coming from the speakers in the transport.
Vista shrugged, “Well, I can’t see inside someone, but people are much more… clear in the mental map of my domain. I can actually see them on the surface instead of people just being… sort of negative space.
“I think I can affect space on their skin, but not their skin itself or anything deeper. I could put Armsmaster’s armor a mile away from his body, though, for example. There’s a lot of space between atoms to work with, even if things are ‘touching’.”
Dragon reacted hesitantly, “That is true… and terrifyingly potent.”
“Heh!” Victoria laughed. “Your power’s gone sub-atomic, Lil V!”
Vista smirked, “That’s just the start, just the enhancements my preexisting power got. Range, control, speed, detail, I could make my first trigger self my bit-… ahem, I could run circles around myself right now.”
“Yet something more was added, too,” I noted. “What would that be, Vista?”
“It’s, uh… kinda not just space anymore…?” Vista said. “Or, it is. But so many things are affected by and tied into ‘just space’. I can grasp them all now. My domain is my domain. In it, I am supreme. Gravity, electromagnetism, the, uh… strong and weak forces…?”
“Oh? Oh!” Dragon made a squeaking noise. “Oh my…”
“Please don’t, Vista. Ever,” Armsmaster deadpanned.
“Strong and weak forces…?” Crystal cocked her head curiously.
“Nuclear forces. Her power truly has gone sub-atomic,” I explained, not bothering to hide my amusement.
“A nuclear-capable 12-year-old. Shaker 9 to Shaker 12+. Wonderful,” Amy snarked.
“I wouldn’t! I’m not planning to mess with that! Obviously!” Vista exclaimed before pausing. “Well… except maybe for an Endbringer battle…”
“Even then, Vista, that might be a bit overkill,” Gallant commented warily.
Her mask hid it, but it was clear that Vista rolled her eyes, “I know. Probably better than any of you now. Don’t worry, I’m not planning to set off a nuke by splitting one of the quintillion or so hydrogen atoms I can now sense. I’ll stick to gravity and electromagnetism.”
“Magnets! How do they work?!” Crystal exclaimed, giggling.
Vista giggled right back, “Honestly? I still couldn’t tell you.”
I nodded as well, “Some answers elude even a Dragon.”
“So…” Dauntless began slowly. “Vista’s the most powerful cape in the city now. It’s not even a competition.”
“Indeed,” Armsmaster begrudgingly nodded. “Even half-hearted control over gravity in addition to her previous space manipulation would make her untouchable.”
“Nothing ‘half-hearted’ about it,” Vista boasted. “I could squash Lung flat, or send Hookwolf as high as Ancalagon’s tower. Let’s see him stick that landing.”
“Impressive. And in good hands, I’d say. Vista seems the responsible and well-intentioned sort. There is much potential ahead of you, little one,” I praised.
Vista blushed slightly, “Hehe~… Thanks, Ancalagon. That faith means a lot, even if we just met. ‘Cause, yeah… Yeah, I’m looking forward to doing a whole lot of good with my new and improved powers.”
“If you ever feel the need or simple desire to truly let loose, come to me,” I offered. “I shall see if I can arrange something expendable and safe enough to allow you free rein.”
For some reason, the heroes flinched at that offer. I didn’t quite know why. I’d clearly said I would ensure Vista was completely safe and could do no true harm to anything that mattered. Would it not be spectacular to see the little one flex her new nuclear power?
Requisitioning a disposable pocket dimension for such an event wouldn’t be hard.
There was that one orb in my Hoard, made by a powerful but uncreative archmage. It contained a seemingly infinite void of pure white within, the dimensional equivalent of a blank piece of paper. I believe he intended to craft a kingdom within it, and make himself that kingdom’s god…
The intended purpose was now moot, however. I’d stepped on the mage-lomaniac while he was monologuing. He splattered rather splendidly, but the orb did not. And so, even without a use in mind at the time for the nigh-legendary artifact, I’d taken it and hoarded it away for a later day.
Now, it may very well see an interesting use, after all. I was eager to see it, though the heroes didn’t seem to share the sentiment.
I shrugged. No matter the heroes’ reactions, the offer had been made. Vista could agree or disagree with it for herself. She already looked rather excited by the idea. These Shards did so love to be used.
The reveal of Vista’s awesome new power seemed to set the convoy into a sort of thoughtful and wary silence for the rest of the trip.
The heroes clearly didn’t quite know how to react to her yet. I thought that was somewhat stupid. Vista was still Vista, still one of them.
Her newfound power, as potent as it was, hadn’t changed that.
The only one of them with a lick of sense seemed to be Dragon, willing to give Vista the benefit of the doubt. Instead of hovering over Vista (Gallant and Dauntless), or furiously thinking to himself (Armsmaster), Dragon took some of the focus off Vista and put it back on me.
“Ancalagon?” She asked. “You, uh, said something about ‘powers shutting up as they try and fail to cope with your very being’. What did you mean by that?”
“Powers, whatever they really are, don’t react well to Ancalagon. I think we’ve seen that already, plainly and demonstrably,” Amy answered for me, her tone exasperated.
I nodded, “It is simply the way things are. An undeniable interaction between merging Ages. Your powers have great difficulty with the undefinable, variables outside of their control that they cannot comprehend. Variables such as magic, and the Dragon now in their midst, and the Turning of this Age that has already begun.”
“A Trump power, then,” Armsmaster stated, firmly set on his incorrect conclusion born of biases and assumptions. “Can you turn it off?”
“It is not, and I can not,” I simply said. “But I can see that a man as logical as you won’t be easily convinced of the illogical and undefinable. All I can ask is that you keep an open mind as the notions you hold are challenged, Armsmaster.”
“Yeah. Sure. Open mind. So simple,” Amy snorted sarcastically. “You’re asking a lot, Ancalagon. You… aren’t easy to believe, even with experience. Hell, I’m not sure I believe you, even now.”
“What’s there to believe?” Victoria asked.
Queerly, Amy looked up at her sister, “… A lot. But as an example: Tower, Vicky. We saw its creation from start to finish. I don’t think Vista, as she is now, could do what Ancalagon did.”
“Nope~!” Vista cheerfully confirmed. “Not even slightly! It made so [NULL] sense that I Second Triggered, after all!”
Vista didn’t even notice anything wrong with the DATA-filled ‘word’ her Shard had slipped into the middle of her sentence. No one else noticed anything wrong with it, either, even if they all winced as it hit their Shards through them.
Amy jolted differently, gaping at Vista in a way that suggested she’d heard something more true to reality from that [NULL].
Something new had happened in Amy’s Shard, something that greatly removed its limitations on her, done with an intelligent and spirited touch…
Shards did make rather perfect physical anchors for bonded Guardian Spirits, I realized.
“And again, I apologize for that, Vista,” I said absently, fascinated by the interaction between host and Shard, both Vista’s and Amy’s. “You just happened to be specifically sensitive to the Architect’s work. It is an easy spirit to work with — very straightforward in purpose and design — but not an easy one to witness working.”
“Yep~!” Vista chimed again, just as cheerful. “And I’m pointedly blocking out everything about it! Nothing to see there! Nothing [IMPOSSIBLE] at all!”
Once again, a DATA-filled word slipped into Vista’s speech through her smile. This one didn’t make the others present wince, though. Instead, they absently and automatically nodded, as if in transcendent agreement and commiseration.
Yet still, no one consciously acknowledged the DATA-filled verbal tic. Not even Dragon, listening in through what should’ve been an entirely objective audio feed.
Only Amy and I seemed able to hear it for what it actually was. Curious. Oh, how curious, indeed…
The Shards’ reactions to everything I brought to this Age were almost as interesting as the reactions of their human hosts.
I’d be keeping an eye on both brands of reactions, of course. There was just so much to see in this new Age. I didn’t think I could grow bored with it all anytime soon.
IIIII
When we arrived at PRT HQ, there was a welcome waiting for us. For me, in truth. Of that, I was certain.
Men and women in modern armor, fully covering their frames, lined the front of the building. Their postures stood halfway between ready and parade rest. Some carried grenade launchers, with bandoleers of special ammunition for them. Others carried firearms that looked like flamethrowers.
Even if I knew they likely weren’t, the idea of using flamethrowers (‘Puny, mortal flamethrowers!’ As Pyrite might call them) against a Dragon was an amusing one.
Their faceless, uniform appearances, their equipment, and the competence they held themselves with made them intimidating and impressive, as far as pure humans went.
I’d certainly seen worse. I’d also seen better, though.
In my second Age, a king had once greeted me with a similar show of force, with rows of guards in gleaming armor. The oldest among them must’ve been 15 at the most, the result of a ruinously costly war the king had thrown his nation’s true fighting-aged men into.
That’d been the worst, and I’d answered that king’s welcome with a claw that pinned him to his throne for the sheer callous arrogance of trying to intimidate me with children, some newly orphaned from his war.
Another welcome in that Age had come from the newly elevated queen of a tiny nation, trying admirably hard to be brave and proud in the face of a Dragon who was simply passing through, in truth.
She’d called upon a ragtag, mismatched, and honestly scruffy party of personal friends to stand beside her.
That’d been the best, because they’d been adventurers of some renown who stood beside the queen out of genuine friendship; she’d been one of them, an adventurer as well, up until her recent ascension to the throne. I’d been a perfect guest for the night I spent there, as a result.
Even a Dragon knew to be wary of a ragtag adventuring party with friendship to fight for; they tended to pull the most embarrassing victories out of their back pockets, especially against BBEG-tier foes…
The PRT’s welcome fell somewhere in the middle, but on the better end of the scale. These were regular men and women whose sole job was to face off against powered people with only the training of their bodies, the soldiering spirit in their hearts, and the equipment on their backs.
And I could respect that.
It was a show, to be sure, but I didn’t fault them for it.
Organizations like theirs were never eager to give up the appearance of strength and control, even in situations far beyond their ken. Especially then.
I noted that the PRT troopers didn’t salute the heroes escorting me, as one might expect soldiers to do. They were also disciplined enough not to flinch or shift when I nodded respectfully to them.
Whatever their reactions to the nine-foot-tall Dragon-man towering over even the tallest of them and nodding politely, they were concealed by the uniform helmets.
Some might’ve taken the show of force out front for a threat. It was, to a degree, but not a wholly hostile one. And I honestly preferred the presence of a threat — a show of power, unequal as it was — to the opposite, anyway.
Letting a Dragon walk into the heart of your power unopposed was just… too foolish to put into words. I didn’t think I could deal in good faith with an organization that complaisant.
I acknowledged the show of force but didn’t bow to it, striding through the building’s main door under my own power in full view of the public.
The PRT might’ve had their PR agenda, but I had an agenda, too, one all my own.
I’d be seen cooperating, playing the perfect guest without surrendering an inch of my own power. Woe be to the fools who tried to twist everything I did today toward hostility.
I’d be seen as rightfully independent, untethered to the PRT and acting on my own behalf. Woe be to the fools who overstepped their bounds and tried to pressure me into anything I wasn’t willing to do.
I’d be seen for my strength, my will, and the unprecedented change I brought. My cooperation today would say more about me than the PRT’s ‘control’, for that control was imaginary and born from assumptions of jurisdiction that simply didn’t apply.
Woe, woe to the fools who pushed their luck against a Dragon.
I was willing to favor the PRT with this visit and interview. But it was just that: a favor.
For all their attempted shows of power and control, I was the driving force behind today’s meeting. It was my action that sparked it, and my agreement that brought me in.
The PRT would get the answers they sought today — some of them — because I wanted to give them. The people of this Age deserved to know the changes I was bringing their way. They were already living with those changes, even if they didn’t yet realize it.
I had no intention to hide everything I did. What was the point? The results would be plain for all to see, even if they didn’t necessarily understand. And beyond that, why should a Dragon hide…?
The Adventurer’s Corps, the tower and dungeon, the paradigm shift of waking magic would be laid bare. If my audience were willing to listen, today’s interview would be an informative one.
I was escorted through the halls of PRT HQ by my previous companions. A squad of PRT troopers joined the escort now. Admirable effort, for what little good they would do. Then again, none of the heroes except Vista would do much good if I chose violence, either.
The building’s inner halls were sterile and purposefully unremarkable. A labyrinth of blank walls, tiled floors, and fluorescent lights.
The meeting room we arrived at was similar. It boasted (if the bland furnishings could be called a ‘boast’) a large rectangular table surrounded by seating, with a screen on one wall that overlooked it.
Two people were already waiting at the table, with a quartet of disciplined PRT troopers in every corner of the room. The one sitting at the head of the table, farthest from the room’s entrance, was an obese, blonde-haired woman who’d clearly seen better days. Her expression was grimly set.
I looked her over. I looked beneath. There, I saw a legend that she no longer talked about.
Some ‘Lady’ of extreme competence, unpowered but a true terror on the cape battlefields she visited. It’d been a promising career cut brutally short. She was a soldier, once and always, like the PRT troopers that stood guard over her. And in her prime, she’d been a good one.
Compared to her, the other person was of little interest to me. He was a man with a bureaucratic air about him. Competent as well, I was sure, but the kind of man who best operated in someone else’s shadow.
The ‘Lady’ certainly cast enough of a shadow for him, even in her diminished current state.
Both of them stood to greet us out of respect, but the greetings were kept distant, likely due to some professional protocol. No handshakes were exchanged, just respectful nods. The woman introduced the two of them before they sat back down.
“Emily Piggot, Director of the PRT ENE Department. My Deputy Director, John Renick. Welcome, Ancalagon. Thank you for coming in. I hope this meeting will be a… productive one.”
“My fame precedes me, already, I see,” I chuckled. “Thank you for hosting me, Director Piggot. I will respect your hospitality while I am here, so long as you respect my guest rights.”
My previous companions took seats around the table. With Renick sitting on Piggot’s right, Armsmaster took the seat to her direct left. Dauntless sat one down from him, and the two Wards sat at Renick’s side. The New Wave girls drifted closer to my side of the table.
“Should the Wards be present for this, Armsmaster?” Renick asked.
Armsmaster gave a curt explanation, “I thought it best to include as many testimonies as possible in this meeting.”
“Oh, let the little ones sit in. Their circumstances are extraordinary ones, and that earns them more trust than their ages would usually dictate, no?” I argued on the Wards’ behalf. “I don’t mind having them here.”
“There’s also the matter of, uh… Vista,” Dauntless said. “But maybe that development is best left for after the main issue…”
“Development?” Piggot asked, arching a brow.
“Lil V’s gone sub-atomic!” Victoria ‘helpfully’ chimed in from the other end of the table when the other heroes hesitated to answer.
Piggot’s expression went blank, turning to stare at Vista. Vista gave a sheepish smile, “Uh, after, right?”
A sigh, and Piggot turned back to me, “Yes, it wouldn’t do to ignore the Dragon in the room.”
I chuckled, “Good instincts. And speaking of… Would my Draconic peer care to join us now? Her presence was one of my stipulations. I would feel much more comfortable with her here.”
“Still here, Ancalagon,” Dragon said, her voice coming through speakers hidden in the table. “Let me just… Ah, there we are. Hello, all.”
The screen in the room came alive with Dragon’s visage. I couldn’t help but smile at seeing her face for the first time.
Her appearance was perfectly nondescript, as normal as normal could be. Brown hair, brown eyes, pretty but not too pretty, with only a pair of glasses to set her somewhat apart from the crowd.
I could already tell it was a cultivated appearance. Even if I hadn’t been aware of her digitally Draconic nature, a Changer of Shape recognized the signs. It wasn’t likely to be noticed by anyone else, but I could see that Dragon had overcompensated when trying to make herself a human form; it was just a touch too human, lacking the littlest unique features and flaws that set people apart.
She was trying so hard, and I found it adorable. More adorable was the aspect of her appearance that she couldn’t easily hide with perfectly cultivated features: her expressiveness.
She smiled back at me with her whole being. Adorable.
“Lovely, just lovely,” I earnestly praised. “Now, with my peer present, I am content to start.”
“I suppose I’ll rip the bandage right off, then,” Piggot said, staring me down intensely. “What did you just do in my city?”
“Your city?” I asked.
“Under my protection, my jurisdiction. Don’t avoid the question,” Piggot immediately shot back.
“Yes, I suppose it is, at that,” I acknowledged with a nod. “Very well. Answers. I have set down my roots and laid a foundation for many things to come. I am new to this Age, as I’m sure you know. Today was my debut. It just happens to have taken a form you have no context for.”
“Enlighten me, then.”
“Can I assume you aren’t asking after the most obvious results?”
“Don’t assume anything. Just tell me all you can. I’m a big girl. Literally,” Piggot replied, her tone as flat as can be. “I can judge the information you give me with my own intelligence.”
The others around the table made choked noises of shock at Piggot’s deadpan joke. I found myself chuckling, fond of her self-aware frankness.
“I’ll start at the beginning of my morning, then. I emerged from my lair with a plan in mind, and met these three ‘princesses’ while I was looking for a place to set it in motion,” I began.
“Princesses,” Piggot deadpanned. “Why not?”
“Eheh~…” Victoria chuckled awkwardly. “Just, uh, just a bit of an inside joke, that’s all, Director.”
“You absolutely weren’t treating it as a joke, Vicky,” Amy shot back.
“She believed it wholeheartedly. She still does,” Crystal nodded in agreement.
“C’mon, I’m not that bad,” Victoria whined.
“Really? I couldn’t tell. I never can,” Amy snarked.
“Your… lair, Ancalagon?” Dragon asked, getting the conversation at least somewhat back on track. There was an adorable burning curiosity in her voice when she said the word ‘lair’.
“Ah, my lair, my home, the heart of my Authority,” I sighed playfully. “It’s been with me for Ages now. Literally. I carved it out two Ages ago, and brought it with me into the next Age, and now, the next as well.
“I suppose you could call it… a dimensionally displaced yet integral part of my being. It can be connected to the world, but naturally stands a half-step apart. It’s where I keep all my things, my Hoard in its countless treasures.”
Armsmaster nodded in what he thought was understanding, “We believe Toybox operates similarly, with a pocket dimension to protect them.”
“I very much doubt it’s actually similar,” I chuckled.
“Irrelevant, for the time being,” Piggot cut Armsmaster off before he could keep insisting upon applying his preconceptions to me at every possible turn.
“We’re not asking about your home. We’re asking about what you’ve done outside of it today.”
“Yes, as I was saying,” I continued. “I left my lair, met the ‘princesses’, and engaged in cordial conversation as I looked for a good place to land and start my work. I found such a place near the Boardwalk, on the coast. Upon landing, I shaped it to my needs.”
“Shaped to your needs. Yes,” Piggot frowned. “Did you engage in any property destruction in that process?”
“I did not. I did not need to,” I answered honestly.
“He, like, really didn’t need to,” Crystal stressed in my defense.
“Director, that space was previously occupied by a series of abandoned or half-abandoned buildings. Upon arrival at the scene, we saw no signs of destruction. The preexisting buildings were still present. Just… moved. I do not know how,” Armsmaster reported.
“It was space manipulation,” Vista gave her own report. “And… not? Like my power, but… absolutely nothing like my power at the same time. That… uh, sorry, Director, I’m not making any sense.”
“Take your time. Give me the facts as you know them,” Piggot said patiently but not kindly.
“It…” Vista spoke slowly to get her thoughts in line. “It should’ve been an alley there. Maybe 10 feet wide and 100 feet long. My power insisted it still was. But when we got there, it was plain to see that there was now a few hundred meters of space in all directions.
“It wasn’t like my stretching, Director. That space was created. From nothing. Claimed… into existence…? It was… undefinable; I couldn’t touch it at all.”
Piggot paused, nodded, and turned back to me, “And in your own words, Ancalagon?”
“Vista nearly had some of it. Well done!” I praised. “Indeed, there was a small alleyway there when I found it. Considering I didn’t wish to knock down a whole city block for my plans, I made my own space to work with. I claimed a piece of the alley under my Authority, since no one else was using it, and with that Authority manifested the canvas I would need.
“That space is now permanent, anchored by my Authority. And I am willing to purchase the real estate officially, even if it is already Mine… Call it a show of good faith.”
Renick muttered a question to himself, “Do parahumans have to… purchase land that their powers create…?”
Piggot ignored her Deputy, “Considering your cooperation so far, and the fact that I don’t think we can stop you from doing so at this point, the PRT would be willing to help you officially and legally claim the… created land.”
“The gesture is appreciated, if meaningless,” I replied. “That land will always be Mine… but I suppose having that claim in writing with the local authorities will be helpful.”
Amy snorted softly, “Yeah, I think you’ve made it pretty clearly yours…”
Piggot shot Amy a quick glare for her comment, but still nodded, “… That would be the main issue of the day. Your tower, Ancalagon. I don’t think I can overstate this: What. The fuck.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at those dead and dry words coming from the so-far professionally grim Piggot. It seemed so very in and out of character for her, and likely encapsulated the situation from their perspectives so well.
“My foundation,” I nodded thoughtfully. “I’m perfectly willing to shine the light of earnest explanations upon it. I shall speak only truths. Believing the answers I freely give, however, will be up to you.”
“I like a challenge. Try me.”
To my delight, Piggot seemed willing to hear me out. I hadn’t been expecting her to be the most open-minded to out-of-context explanations, but she earnestly meant it, with a certain attentive gleam in her hard eyes.
Those eyes saw surprisingly clearly.
The others on her side of the table seemed much more skeptical. I could see biases and assumptions in their eyes; notions based on the Age they knew, not the one that now Turned.
Armsmaster was the worst in that regard, almost visibly still trying to shove me in a box he could comprehend, but it wasn’t out of maliciousness or purposeful stupidity.
The opposite, actually. His worldview was so limited because of his intelligence, not despite it. He was a man used to knowing and defining things, now coming into contact with the unknowable, the undefinable.
He was reacting in the only way he knew how. And he wasn’t alone in trying to shove me into an understandable box.
Even Dragon could be counted as skeptical, though she was probably the best of the skeptics. I could tell my Draconic peer wanted to believe, a Nature-deep spark inside her resonating with the undefinable truths I bore; she just didn’t know how.
Hopefully, a few honest answers from the Dragon’s mouth would help fan that flame of Nature into an equally undefinable frenzy for her.
“Ask away, and I shall answer,” I offered.
The tension in the room was alive in the strangest way. Anticipation piercing through preconceived assumptions, and curiosity that burned; no matter their thoughts on the matter of me, everyone was waiting for the answers I had to give.
Directly across the table from me, Piggot took the lead, “I’ll start… simply, then. How did you do it? How did you raise a Tower of Babel in our city with so little preparation? How did you come from nowhere, with powers that surpass anything we know, and do… this before we even knew to try and stop you?”
“Tower of Babel,” I smirked and chuckled slightly. “Quaint, but not quite accurate. Fitting only in form, not function. But I imagine we’ll get to that…”
I trailed off, collecting my thoughts on how to best answer truthfully. I did want to give this Age the chance to comprehend, to know and learn and grow, if they were willing to. In that, I wouldn’t hide anything so essential from them.
But I also wouldn’t hold their hands through out-of-context revelations. Acceptance and belief were concepts they’d have to realize for themselves.
“Hmm,” I hummed as everyone at the table leaned forward, Dragon doing the same on her screen. Some sat openly on the edges of their seats — the Wards and New Wave girls — while others hid their undeniable curiosity better — the adults in the room.
“At the highest level?” I continued. “Magicks of Authority, Nature, and Spirit, for they sum up my powers of being — simply not ‘powers’ as you know them.
“More acutely, though: the last. To raise my tower, I crafted and enacted a ritual of Spirit. The spirit I contracted, that great Architect, did most of the hard work. I simply provided the vision it worked toward and the reason it worked with me.”
Armsmaster scowled, “I thought you were going to answer clearly, Ancalagon.”
“I said I would answer truthfully,” I corrected. “The truth is not always so clear and easy to comprehend, especially when you are so determined to deny it.”
“He likes being cryptic,” Amy said.
I nodded at that, admitting it freely, “I do. But here, that is not my intention, just a natural consequence of workings beyond your current ken. If your mind is open, and your heart is eager to know, there is nothing stopping you from accepting my answers for what they are. Again, belief is up to you.”
“Yet you just answered with ‘Magic’,” Armsmaster insisted. “Do you honestly expect us to accept such a purposeful non-answer-?”
Piggot held up a hand to silence him. Armsmaster’s mouth snapped shut automatically, though he looked like he was sucking on a lemon. He was, however, just saying what most in the room were thinking.
Most in this Age would be stubbornly set in their disbelief of magic, set in the thinking that everything was the way they knew it, with perfectly logical, if at times esoteric, explanations.
A fully mundane Age would’ve accepted the idea of magic better. This Age, however, already knew the spectacular through their parahuman powers.
It heavily colored their worldview, forging a remarkable but logically limited status quo that the Age had been able to come to terms with. And now, so set in that status quo, pushing past it to accept even newer paradigms was difficult.
Few liked to admit that the world could be so much bigger than they’d always imagined.
But that difficulty wouldn’t change the truth, the new way of things. The natural order they’d accepted had been fundamentally changed with my arrival. There would be no going back now.
As the cause, I felt a sort of responsibility to at least try to open minds for the newly shifting stage, the newly Turning Age.
To be honest with myself, I enjoyed it as well.
I enjoyed opening those minds willing to believe. I enjoyed the denials of those who weren’t. I enjoyed showing this Age that the formerly impossible was now very possible, and watching to see how they would come to terms with it.
“Hardly a non-answer. You just don’t get it. I don’t get it…” Amy muttered under her breath, unheard by most.
I’d won over one mind in this meeting already, I noted with amusement. Amy could hardly resist the new truth of this Age, as the first I’d fully awakened to magic. Not with Isis mutually sealed to her soul.
I was being truthful, favorably open in how I operated. But the reactions to these revelations I bore would come down to belief in the end, begrudging or enthusiastic, more than any proof or stubbornness.
I was graciously willing to open their eyes; after that, it was on them to see.
At the very least, everyone in this meeting was here. They were humoring me. That counted for something. Some were just much more willing to do so than others.
“… Walk me through this ritual, then,” Piggot requested. I was impressed that she said it without a scoff or scrap of scorn in sight.
“Please,” Dragon nodded. “Do elaborate, Ancalagon.”
Crystal shrugged, “He kinda walked us through it as he worked, but I’m still, like, super-duper curious.”
“Three aspects make a ritual of Spirit: sanctuary, sacrifice, and the sealing,” I began. “Sanctuary, to secure the space the ritual works within. Sacrifice, to motivate the spirits the ritual calls upon. And sealing, to bind the ritual’s effect into reality.
“For mine, the sanctuary was the land I claimed, the sacrifice was a substantial offering of wealth and material from my Hoard, and the seal was both the blueprint I carved and the contract I negotiated with the Architect.”
“God, the sacrifice!” Victoria interrupted, words rushing forth from her lips. “You should’ve seen it! He just up and summoned HUGE blocks of stone! Like, a hundred by a hundred by a hundred feet! Tens of thousands of tons each!
“We did the math,” Crystal nodded. “The marble block alone was, like, $84,000,000. Then, it was just… gone. Sacrificed.”
Even Armsmaster stopped to stare at that information, “… Where did you get so much material?”
“My Hoard, quarried from another Age,” I said. “In all, they constituted about one percent of my Hoard’s total wealth. But such a significant sacrifice was necessary, and the material gave the Architect what it needed to work with.”
“The Architect. Who-…” Piggot began, trailing off as she reworded her question. “And what was it?”
“A great spirit,” I answered. “A being not native to the physical plane. Spirits are… spirits, masses of power held together by undefinable inertia and given life by thought, concept, legend, and metaphor.
“They can be quintessentially human legends, or fundamental forces of nature, or incomprehensible alien invaders. They spring to being from, and make their homes in, a nigh-infinite series of metaplanes.
“A metaplane is to the physical what a spirit is to man; not innately ‘better’, but absolutely different. Some individual metaplanes have given rise to humanity’s concepts of Heaven and Hell, or the Faewyld, or Valhalla, or Avalon, or the Darkest Void, for planes of existence are never wholly separate.
“There is overlap. In that overlap, reality may become relative. Malleable. Undefinable.
“Spirits, with their visiting power, are then able to enforce their unique metaplanar realities on the physical plane. That act, coming in so many forms as to be inherently and eternally enigmatic, is what makes Magic of Spirit.
“In my last Age, the metaplanes and the physical plane were drawn close together by a natural cycle. As a result, magic became as common as technology in the mere half-century since its return. It was there that I learned to use Magicks of Spirit.
“In this Age, the overlap is barely there. The metaplanes are distant, I can sense, almost kept that way. But through my own visiting Nature, I was able to act as a conduit to the metaplanes and spirits I knew. I summoned the Architect, and as you can plainly see, it was still able to do good work through our contract.”
The room fell silent for long moments, digesting the information I’d given them. It was quite a lot, more than most in my last Age could’ve told them.
They were lucky I was as knowledgeable a Dragon as I was.
Eventually, however, Victoria broke the tension with a distractingly, dramatically playful whine, “Owwwie~… My heady hurty…”
Dragon agreed, giggling, “As informative as that was, same.”
“Learned?” Piggot pointedly asked.
I nodded, “Magicks of Spirit can be learned.”
There was another beat of silence as that confirmation set in. Armsmaster turned to me before it was over. His expression said he thought he’d found some victory condition in my answer.
“So you can put a definition to your powers, then. Calling it ‘magic’ is just a matter of nomenclature.”
I chuckled, “To a surface-level degree, I suppose; everything could be called a matter of nomenclature, after all. But there is a deeper distinction, I assure you.”
Armsmaster hesitated for barely a moment before pushing forward with his ‘victory’, “I will grant that what you describe seems much too… vast to fall in line with a single parahuman power. But even then, it sounds to me like some unrecorded phenomena. Something that can be defined, and certainly not ‘magic’.”
“Recording the phenomenon wouldn’t help you,” I shook my head. “The definition of magic is its undefinability, and that undefinability comes in its infinite forms, its working details, its enigmatic essential processes. Those are impossible to put into words. Such is the paradox of magic.
“Describing something is not necessarily defining its every detail and enigma. I may be able to sum up Magic of Spirit, but it will always be that: a summary, and of only one magical method. My Magicks of Authority and Nature, after all, work very differently from what I just described of Spirit. They fall under the naming umbrella of ‘magic’ due to sharing unique mysteries at their cores.”
“In your PHO AMA, you refuted the idea that magic was simply a term for phenomena we don’t yet understand,” Dragon pointed out.
“Because magic isn’t the phenomenon itself; it comes from the unknown, the unknowable. The reasons, the narratives, not merely the cause or effect. That is what makes magic: power in the very concept of mystery,” I explained.
“For example, I can prove a spirit’s ability to exert extraplanar power upon the physical plane, to mold reality to their understanding of it. I can see ‘what’ in that, and even know the ‘how’ — the causes and effects of overlapping planes of existence.”
I demonstrated, channeling the smallest possible spirit: a tiny rabbit of fire that bounced into existence above my hand, bounded up my arm, across my shoulders, and down to my other hand, where it did an adorable flip that sent spiraling flames into the air.
Little show off…
The demonstration drew varied reactions from my audience.
Victoria and Crystal cooed up an eager storm. Something in Armsmaster’s armor sparked and popped, and Dragon’s visage on the screen froze for a moment.
Vista yelped and leaped a literal meter out of her seat as she sensed the spirit appear from nowhere and everywhere, [IMPOSSIBLE] according to her power. Amy just watched attentively, an intelligent spark in her eye that told me she was trying to figure out how to do the same.
Dismissing the spirit, I continued, “But I know nothing of the undefinable inertia that holds a spirit together, the why of their beings, the why of phenomenon working the way I can prove it does. Therein lies the mystery of Spirit. Therein lies the magic.
“Yet the mysteries and magicks of Authority and Nature lie in different details: the ‘how’ for Authority, and the ‘what’ for Nature. Magic may come in an infinite number of forms and factors and functions. The unique mysteries of each tie them together under the title.”
The reactions of that inconsequential demonstration lingered. Victoria and Crystal both looked like they were barely holding back from demanding the spirit as a pet. Amy turned her attention inward, likely listening as Isis explained what I’d done.
“Simple, isn’t it?” Amy snorted. “Just… Magic: you tend to know it when you see it.”
“You do, if you’re at all open to the idea,” I agreed.
Vista looked torn between burning curiosity to match the rabbit spirit’s flames and cooing over it as Victoria and Crystal had. Gallant, through his helmet, was staring intently at the space the spirit had just occupied.
“It was… alive,” He muttered. “I can’t describe it, but it was so lively. Something so small shouldn’t have emotions that run so deep…”
Armsmaster and Dragon rolled with their technical misfires, barely acknowledging them, but Armsmaster still frowned after I’d so thoroughly denied him an assumed victory.
“The readings I got before my dimensional sensor malfunctioned were nonsensical. There could very well be something real and currently undefinable about those… metaplanes,” Armsmaster admitted, still frowning.
Dragon looked like she was growing ever more curious with my every answer, “Being able to prove what, and even how, but not why… That might make some fields of quantum physics ‘magic’, too, then.”
“I called it such in my last Age, yes,” I said, amusement plain in my voice.
Renick looked somewhat constipated, his worldview completely challenged by my open answers and explanations. Piggot was handling my revelations better, almost unflinchingly rational about the irrational.
“Right, let’s not get too bogged down in details that honestly go way over my head,” She cut in, getting the conversation back on track. “You call it magic. We’ll call it magic. Magic raised the tower.
“Anything we should know about it now that it’s up? What does the magic tower do?”
“It’s a tower,” I shrugged. “It stands tall and catches everyone’s attention. The real matters of interest will happen within and beneath it.”
Piggot arched an eyebrow, “Those being?”
“Well, the tower itself shall be the core of my Adventurer’s Corps,” I half-answered.
“Hm. We’ll come back to that,” Piggot pointedly said. “And… beneath? What is beneath in the first place, and how is it relevant?”
“A rocky shore, Director,” Armsmaster said. “And perhaps the aquifer, if you go deep enough. That would raise all sorts of problems, though, and I’m sure we would’ve noticed activity beneath the ground.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I chuffed in amusement. “Work down there has already begun. Of course, it doesn’t directly correspond to the purely physical plane. It’s ever-so-slightly removed from the rest of the world, a personal dimension akin to my lair, allowing it to descend as deep as I wish. The tower above is simply its anchor.”
“Allows what to descend as deep as you wish, Ancalagon?” Piggot asked, leaning forward intensely.
I grinned, “My dungeon.”
“Dungeon,” Piggot deadpanned.
“Dungeon, sure,” Amy just shrugged and sighed.
“Dungeon, huh?” Crystal shrugged as well, but in a different, more accepting way. “Sounds cool. Also sounds kinda kinky. Color me intrigued.”
“You would be,” Victoria snorted, teasing her cousin.
“What… does the word ‘dungeon’ mean to you here, Ancalagon? What actually is it?” Dragon asked.
I answered openly, “It is the endless challenge I shall put to this Age and my coming Adventurer’s Corps. Countless floors upon floors of adventure, with monsters to fight, traps and riddles to overcome, and much profit to be found for those brave and bold enough.
“Its trials shall be pulled from my own past, mixed and matched in always unique ways. And its rewards shall be pulled from my Hoard, loot worthy of the victories to be won.
“If one joins the Adventurer’s Corps, they will be granted the opportunity, the privilege, to venture deeper and find the adventure we preach. There will be danger, to be sure, but no danger of death. I can and will personally ensure that, for the dungeon is entirely under my Authority. It is Mine… and it will conform to my vision of adventure.
“My dungeon will be an experience, open to capes and non-powered individuals, and a system, pushing for fantastical adventure. The challengers will be able to keep all that they loot within. Above, my Corps will preside over the dungeon as a sanctuary to venture forth from and return to, where one can prepare for any challenge beneath.
“It is my greatest hope that this Age will grow from the adventure I intend to offer it.”
Silence fell as my answer set in. It tended to, I’d seen, my current audience having to take long, understandable moments to digest information outside their usual frames of reference. I calmly waited for the response my plan would garner.
“… It’s an infinite fantasy playground,” Piggot eventually said. “A stage, a sandbox that you’re looking to draw people into. Why? What do you get out of it?”
“Growth,” I shrugged. “Entertainment, both for myself and for those who challenge the dungeon. True adventure in an Age that sorely lacks its whimsy and excitement. The chance to wholly better oneself and viscerally experience new things.”
“It’s selfless, then?” Piggot asked, truly skeptical for the first time in the meeting.
“Not entirely. I do wish to see the people of this Age grow, but I also grow my Magicks of Authority through the realization of my dungeon,” I said.
“I won’t claim Authority over them, won’t claim to ‘Master’ anyone, for they are invaders in the end, not Mine… But every dive into its depths develops my dungeon, too. It is there that I will draw power into my Magicks of Authority.”
“And you say it’ll be… safe?” Renick asked.
“Not safe, but certainly non-lethal,” I confirmed. “The danger shall be real. There would be little adventure if it weren’t. But I hardly see any reason to kill brave and bold souls. If death is about to claim a member of my Adventurer’s Corps within the dungeon, they shall be pulled to safety and healed. You’ll be free to test that recovery for yourself to ensure all is as I claim.”
“What about it someone isn’t part of your Adventurer’s Corps?” Dragon cocked her head curiously.
I grinned viciously, “Then, they are trespassers in truth, not just challengers I’ve welcomed into my dungeon. Those that manage to skip the proper process of dungeon diving and proceed regardless will have brought their fates onto themselves.”
Crystal laughed, “Sounds like a good incentive to join up, then!”
Armsmaster nodded, “It’s an interesting form of… insurance, at least.”
“It sounds to me like the dungeon will be… almost a simulation,” Dragon said. “A… magical one, not technological, but the essence of it sounds the same. Would you call it an augmented reality game?”
“I’d call it an adventure, my dear peer,” I smiled a toothy smile her way.
“Right…” Piggot sighed, summing up my answers. “Brockton Bay is going to have a… dungeon beneath it soon enough. A not-so-simulated dungeon filled with treasures and monsters…”
Something about the way she spat the word ‘monsters’ made even me take notice. There was pain and trauma there.
I reassured her, “They will not escape. They can’t. Not only is the dungeon dimensionally removed from the ‘real world’ above, but they are… akin to projections in your terminology. I can and will terminate them at any time if they become an issue.”
With a steadying exhale, Piggot said, “I’ll take your word for it. Not like I have any other choice right now. Somehow, this all feels a bit outside our usual jurisdiction.”
“Perhaps killing a few monsters would be therapeutic for you, Director,” I suggested.
She genuinely chuckled at that, “It absolutely would be. Cathartic in the extreme, even. But my days in the field are far behind me now.”
“… We’ll see about that… Lady.”
“Maybe non-parahuman, magical healing is just what she needs to get the steel I-beam out of her ass,” Amy muttered.
“I’m not even surprised you know that name,” Piggot shook her head. “And Panacea? Watch it.”
Instead of shrinking away and taking back her muttered comment, Amy sat straighter, “If I were an officially licensed doctor, I would’ve paralyzed and healed you a year ago. It would’ve been my right and duty… Director.”
Her confidence seemed to surprise everyone in the room. Piggot stared at her. Amy stared right back. Piggot was the first to flinch, giving the most minute nod of respect.
“… This has been a productive meeting,” She changed the subject instead of clashing with Amy again. “We’ve received testimony of ‘magic’ or what we’re calling magic for the time being — my win, by the way, John.”
She casually shot the last sentence Renick’s way. He chuckled and ceded whatever point they had running between them, “Your win, sir.”
Nodding, Piggot continued, “I’m sure there’s going to be a whole thing surrounding the concept of this magic. But thankfully, assessing and researching that is not my job. I’ll call Ancalagon a Dragon, seems obvious enough, and leave further classification to the eggheads.”
“Goodness, where are we going to even start?” Dragon sighed, sounding thrilled by the idea even as she did. “A world-hopping Dragon bringing what very credibly sounds like a whole new power system with him. What are we going to do with you, Ancalagon?”
I chuckled at the fondness in her voice, “Ask and listen? Watch and learn? Join me in bringing this Age the adventure, fantasy, and whimsy it does not yet know it needs? All I’d really ask is that you treat me fairly, with the interest and respect you deem me due.
“We are fellows in this Age now, common citizens of a changing world. And I would hope that we can come to consider each other friends.”
“You’re certainly… interesting,” Dragon giggled.
“And I can definitely respect a Dragon,” Crystal added.
“Just don’t send my city into an all-out gang war,” Piggot said flatly.
“The… dungeon might actually be good for that, sir,” Renick pointed out. “Depending on who takes an interest, it could take capes off the street.”
I agreed. “With the opportunities for profit and growth my dungeon will offer, I wouldn’t be surprised if many take their struggles and operations into its depths.
“I won’t let them take footholds, of course. With the nature of the dungeon, outsiders holding territory within won’t be possible. It is Mine… But if two rival parties run into each other down there? Well, the dungeon will be a very good setting for Conflict.”
Piggot nodded. “Here’s hoping the gangs find themselves too busy fighting down there to bother the regular people living their regular lives.”
“The dungeon will also be open to heroes,” I freely offered, with a warning to follow. “You won’t want to find yourselves falling too far behind.”
Dauntless, Armsmaster, and Vista perked up with interest at that. I could almost see them challenging the dungeon’s depths already — two superpowered knights and the most magical of little girls this Age had to offer.
Victoria and Crystal were already down with the idea. I think they had been since I first offered loot, adventure, and… safe Conflict. They likely weren’t expecting Amy to want to join them, but I think they’d be surprised there.
She had magic to flex now, essence to expend and explore. Was there a better place to do so than a dungeon?
“And of course, I would be remiss if I didn’t extend the offer to my Draconic peer as well,” I said, smiling at Dragon. “I do hope you find time to visit and delve into my dungeon when it officially opens its doors.”
Bright as a digital star, Dragon smiled back at me, “You know, I might just take you up on that. The Guild does somewhat specialize in hunting monsters, after all.”
“Your heroic Guild and my Adventurer’s Corps will come to a beneficial arrangement,” I promised. “The last thing I want is to leave a fellow Dragon — you especially — out of the adventures to come.”
Dragon blushed on the screen, looking away. Being so determined to include her seemed to please and fluster her. She was wonderfully expressive. Truly adorable.
Draconic Greed and Lust spiked, and I suddenly wanted to praise her, tease her, interact with her more, more, more; to make her Mine…
I let the urge come and go out of respect for Dragon, but the underlying feelings of interest and desire stayed. I found her to be the most intriguing soul I’d met in this Age, and I wished to see much more of her, still.
Perhaps we could make a date out of delving my dungeon together.
No matter what, I was looking forward to the chance to meet her in person — scale to scale, maw to maw, Nature to Nature.
I already knew she would be spectacular.
IIIII
I returned to my lair with little more fanfare after the meeting.
My tower would stand through the night without issue. It would stand forever without issue, solid in a way nothing in this Age could match thanks to the Architect’s hard work. Tomorrow, I’d return to it. Tomorrow, there’d be more work to be done.
Until then, though, I was curious to see what my Hoard had gotten up to during my day out.
“Welcome home!” Pyrite called, glomping onto me with a powerful leap across the lair.
Laughing, I caught her and spun her around. There were some benefits to a more humanoid form when interacting with my living treasures. When I set Pyrite back down, she barely came up to my waist.
“I’m home,” I said, smiling down at her. “Did you miss me?”
“Always, Dad-!” Pyrite cut herself short, clearing her throat and trying to act noble and mature. “Ahem. Always… Ancalagon.”
I gave one of her long, drooping ears — inherited from her halfling mother — a playful flick. She pouted back at me.
“How was your day?” I asked.
Before Pyrite could answer in what was bound to be excited rambles, Calamitas cut her off, “The whelp made friends.”
“You did, too!” Pyrite snapped back, almost accusingly.
Calamitas stuck her nose up at the idea and sniffed imperiously, “I cultivated an audience. There is a difference.”
“Cap! You had fun!”
“You can’t prove anything.”
I broke through their bickering, “How did your tournament go?”
“Well enough, I suppose,” Calamitas said nonchalantly (she would almost certainly deny how eager she was to share). “The whelp won, of course, but it was closer than she was expecting. Meanwhile, I gathered good information about the gaming culture of this Age. I shall put it to good use in my Hell-Matrix. Can I assume you already have plans for that coming invention of mine, Dragon?”
“I might’ve had some ideas for how to include it in my plans to bring a proper adventuring dungeon to this Age,” I confirmed with a chuckle.
Calamitas nodded, “I suspected as much. It’s only right for someone who defeated me to stay a few steps ahead, even after so long.”
“Oh, yeah!” Pyrite exclaimed. “You did a thing! A BIG thing, Dad-… Ancalagon! The whole stream was talking about it! Uber — he’s the finalist who almost beat me — and Leet even guessed that it was a dungeon! They wanted me to ask if you’re going to be hiring beta testers for it, and I agreed to ask for such a worthy opponent! So, uh… are you?”
I blinked at the rapid-fire stream of consciousness, “They guessed about the dungeon? That’s interesting. I thought most would be distracted by the tower itself. Beta testers, hmm? Perhaps. I’ll think about it.”
I turned to the rest of my Hoard. They’d been a touch slower than the overly eager Pyrite, but came crowding around now with welcoming smiles on their faces.
“And the rest of you? What all have you gotten up to?”
“I have to thank you for such a splendid, undeniable show of force, Ancalagon!” Dharla exclaimed and praised. “It did wonders in helping me grow my fledgling following. Seeing the impossible does send people seeking answers, and of course, the Moon is always willing to hear questions shouted and whispered up at her.”
“I’ve been teaching my students the valuable lessons I have to impart,” Belladonna chortled. “They are an amusingly enraptured audience, though one went offline about when you appeared outside the lair, my lord.”
I nodded, answering her unspoken question, “I met Panacea, yes. You may find her even more eager for your lessons now.”
She grinned, “I’ll be sure to ask — and tease~… — her about you.”
“And I have a much more official progress report for you, Sire, if you’re willing to hear it now,” Jenevelle said. “We did good work setting up the intangibles of the Adventurer’s Corps. And now that you’ve revealed more of your plans, we can do more still.”
“Or you could take a well-earned break, Jenevelle,” I disagreed.
“Oh, I couldn’t, Sire,” She insisted. “There is still much work to be done.”
I ignored her, having none of that. As she was adjusting her secretary-style ‘working’ glasses (that I was sure she only wore for the look, having picked it up in our last Age), I stepped in and swept her into my arms.
Jenevelle squeaked, “S-Sire?! You can’t-!”
Again, I ignored her, settling into the gold of my Hoard with her in my lap for cleric cuddle-time. Jenevelle’s protests fell away almost immediately.
Belladonna, never missing an opportunity for close contact, immediately set herself against one side. Pyrite, never to be shown up, set herself against my other.
I let myself relax and recharge like that, at home in my lair with gold at my back and living treasures in my arms.
The changes we were bringing to this Age could wait.