Dungeon Life

Chapter Three-Hundred Eighteen

“Right, what were you wanting to talk about, before I told you about Parm?” asks Teemo as he heads back to the Sanctum to relax a bit. I dunno how much relaxing he’s going to get to do once I tell him about the need for… politics!

Teemo shudders at that. “Is it too late to volunteer to interpret for everyone in the lecture hall, ever?”

Yes. Luckily for you, I don’t intend to just jump into those uncharted waters without some prep. If we’re lucky, you won’t even have to get too much of it on you.

“That’d be a good trick. What’s your idea?” he asks as he pops out of a shortcut and onto Yvonne’s hammock, making himself comfortable while she’s away doing Ranger stuff.

The first part is to adjust where Poe and Leo send Zorro. If he’s not a fan of the new assignment, we’ll offload it to the other foxes… and we’ll probably need to send some of them out too, just to keep track of everything. I want him and the others to scout out Fourdock and possibly the other places around. I need eyes and ears to keep informed on what the major powers are up to.

Teemo looks grumpy at that idea. “Better them than me, at least, but I still don’t like the idea of spying on everyone.”

I’m not exactly a fan of it either, but we’re just drawing too much attention from powerful groups to not. So far, those groups have been the ones that are confident in their own position, so they don’t need to do anything sneaky to get some of what we have. But the vultures will start circling, if they aren’t already, and I need to know what they’re up to if I’m going to head them off.

My Voice heaves a sigh, neither of us really happy with the situation, but both accepting that we can’t just ignore it and hope it’ll go away. “I’ll bring it up to Leo, Poe, and Zorro, then. You’ll probably want to upgrade the fox spawner if you’re intending to send some out on expedition like that, too.”

Yep. You might need to head out on expedition more than a few times, as well. We probably don’t need many shortcuts in and around Fourdock, but I’d like the spy network to eventually encompass the kingdom, if not further.

Teemo gives a low whistle at that. “You plan big, Boss.”

It won’t be all at once, but if we keep growing, we’re going to keep attracting attention. At least we have a good method for extending our influence. We’ll set up small outposts like we did on the way to the Southwood, and probably use bees and/or bats to deliver messages down the line and back here.

“Do you want to try using the rockslides to listen in on things?”

Maybe once we have specific locations to keep an ear on? For now, I think the foxes will be plenty. They’ll just use subtle illusions to make themselves look like stray cats or dogs, and hopefully be able to listen in on what we need to hear.

“Hmm… do you want to try bees or maybe fey? The living vines could be good to hide in gardens, too.”

Maybe? We can certainly give them a test run around Fourdock to see if they pan out, though the vines will probably only work for some of the year.

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“You should definitely buy gremlins from Violet at some point, too. They’ll make great observers.”

Yep, once the tree is in, that’s one of the things I want to add. I also might try to splurge and get something with spatial affinity, too.

Teemo gives an exaggerated gasp and points an accusatory finger at my core. “You’re replacing me?!”

Yes. Heh, of course not. I just don’t want to take up all your time with maintaining the shortcuts everywhere, especially once we get the network up and running.

Teemo snickers and drops the act before pointing something out. “It might not be a good idea to make a vast network of shortcuts outside. Remember how Kennith entered the shortcuts to the Southwood? I wasn’t too careful with hiding them, but it sounded to me like he probably would have spotted it even if I was.”

Hmm… that could be a problem, yeah. He’s probably a master of spatial affinity, but he’s also probably not the only one out there. It’d only take one for people to start investigating. In fact… we might be boned for using illusion foxes, too. What if illusionists can spot them at a glance, too?

Teemo sits up and folds his arms, considering. “Yeah, that’d give the whole game away. We could still make do with rockslides and a few flying denizens, but that’ll take a lot longer to set up.” He pauses and smirks at my core. “Unless you think the wyrms can sneak them into places without getting noticed.”

I chuckle at the idea of my wyrms melting their way though the ground being something any town wouldn’t raise an alarm about. Well, I think we have a master illusionist we can ask, at least.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Yeah?” asks Teemo, and I’m surprised he doesn’t remember.

Torlon, the Head Priest of the local Church of the Crystal Shield. The illusions he used to run the maze and beat Tiny were top notch. I bet we could ask him.

My Voice smacks his forehead. “Ah, right! He’d definitely know if illusions are easy to spot. Do you think he’d be suspicious why we’re asking?”

Maybe? The Shield certainly has some kind of spy network of its own, even if it’s just followers reporting through prayer or something.

“Why don’t you try that, too?”

I… don’t think I have enough followers for that. And it feels weird to try to send them out specifically for that purpose. Starting off on a bad foot, you know?

He nods. “Yeah, that’s fair. You are starting to get a bit of a following here, though.”

Why do you have to remind me of something else I’m trying not to think too hard about?

“Because ignoring it won’t make it go away, and I’m supposed to keep you from letting things like that get out of hand.”

I mentally sigh and rail against his logic for a few seconds, but I can only drag my feet for so long. I shift my attention to the little afterlife I've set up, and I can feel things there are going pretty smoothly, at least it seems like it. A few people have finished with their project by now, though time is pretty weird between there and here. The Workshop is finished, as are more than a few chairs, and everyone who’s finished has opted for reincarnation, eager to see what else there is to see, and I hope they’ll be in a position to come back eventually.

The happy chatter and the sound of tools at work helps calm my nerves. I still don’t think I’m cut out for this sort of thing, but at least I’m not making a hash of it. It helps encourage me to pay attention to the little motes of warmth that are my followers that are still breathing, even if their numbers feel overwhelming if I focus on them.

The glow from my enclaves isn’t too surprising, and I’m more used to that, at least. I never asked it of them, but it’s not too surprising… not anymore, at least. I’ve had my panic attacks about it by now, and I’m mostly adjusted. Kinda.

“You alright, Boss?”

Yeah, sorry. Just… taking stock, I guess. You’re right that I can’t ignore the whole godhood angle either. I just… didn’t expect to see so many outside the enclaves. I follow the little warm drafts of my followers, leading to someplace a bit diagonal from normal reality. It feels like I’ve fallen into the night sky, but the stars are more orange than anything else. It reminds me of when I first started looking around my dungeon domain, a floating viewpoint peering into dusty cabinets and abandoned rooms.

It feels like that, but I’m zoomed much further out, and the physical building is as ephemeral as mist. I can pick out the points of warmth that are my followers, but very little besides. I can see the groups, and at a glance I recognize the enclaves. The antkin stick out a bit, as I feel a lot of potential, but they don’t quite qualify just yet. That has to be because they haven’t finished transitioning to dwellers yet.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

And my enclaves are not my only followers. I can feel the people of Silvervein who are following me, and it’s more than I expected. It’s maybe a hundred people, but even that’s surprising. I can also feel several hundred more who don’t follow me, yet still acknowledge me. I don't get as much warmth from them as the others, but it’s still noticeable. That’s probably why deities tend to organize into patheons, I suppose. Even if someone only really worships one at a time, they still accept the others. And there are probably at least a few who try to honor the whole lot.

I’m still happy with being officially on my own, even if I think the Shield and I are pretty closely aligned. It’s even easier to see when I look at Fourdock as a whole. I have more followers here than in Silvervein, but practically everyone acknowledges me. It’s the kind of thing that makes me want to panic again, but I do my best to stamp that down. Freaking out about it doesn’t help, and is probably an overreaction on top of that. If I still had a pulse, it’d be racing, but at least I don’t feel like I’m metaphorically hyperventilating.

I cross my somethings behind my back, before jumping at the realization that I have a form here, too. I know I have a form in my afterlife, but I didn’t think I had one here. It’s difficult to get a good look at myself, and it’s not just because of the lack of mirrors. I can look at my extremities, but I hesitate to call them arms and legs.

Can a nebula have hands? Because that’s the closest to what I can describe what I look like. I look like a nebula with a vaguely-humanoid void inside it. What’s more, the shape is constantly shifting, and it’s difficult to tell if it’s an illusion, like looking at a reflection in water, or if the void is actually subtly flowing and changing the nebula.

Alright, stop staring at yourself and keep looking around. You need to get used to this stuff before you actually make a mess of something. I cross my limbs behind my back and resume looking around, careful not to touch anything as I look at the followers of the Shield. I can pretty easily spot the ones that acknowledge me, and see their devotion to the Shield instead, or the similar acknowledgement for the people who aren’t too involved with that sort of thing.

It’s interesting to see their faith in the Shield, and more than a bit humbling to see my own followers have no less confidence in me. It makes me want to make sure their faith isn’t misplaced, even if there are certainly better targets for it. Still, if they’re going to give it to me, I’m not going to squander it.

“Ah, I was hoping we could meet. We are, as the mortals would say, neighbors, correct?”

I whip my focus around and hold up my limbs defensively, wondering who could be talking to me here, of all places?! Looking at the answer, it seems obvious in hindsight. While I can feel a lot of acknowledgement of other deities among the populace of Fourdock, there’s one who has the clear majority of followers.

Floating among the sea of mortals with me is a large crystalline heater shield. As far as I can tell, it has no eyes or mouth or face… but I guess I’m not one to talk. Its voice is clear and jovial, like someone used to making fast friendships that last a lifetime.

“I hope we can talk, Thedeim. There is much for us to talk about, after all.”