The Mook Maker

I opted to return to the city.

 

A centre of the mountainous province whose name I couldn’t quite recall, eighty kilometres away from the artefact's last resting place, was hardly relevant to the relic hunt, but it still was a major population centre within the visual distance of our own base of operation, and a hot test-bed for our future interactions with the native humans of this world if I could call it that. 

 

It hadn’t gone well so far, and the brief moments spent in the shifting, physics defying void the ‘Displacers’ travelled through made me think whether it was at all worthwhile. 

 

Immediate returns were not in sight, as difficulties, inconveniences and obstacles piled up, only to be replaced by new ones once the previous were solved. 

 

However, we had no other choice than to stand up to the promises and guarantees we had given to the city’s viceroy, only the local authority figure open to the dialogue with us, in order to secure our position for the future endeavours, and prove to the world we could be reasoned with as well. 

 

If the closest - or second closest - treasure spot was on the coast eighty kilometres away, others would be even farther away, and I was worried that any attempts to recover them would put us in direct conflict with their respective local lords, and at least two mutually hostile factions of humans, if not more. 

 

Having an arrangement or agreements with one or more could be a wise choice, instead of continuing the cycle of violence. 

 

Although, would the other provincial lords even respect that we acted on behalf of the one from the neighbouring regions? 

 

With ‘Lady’ still in some form of coma, would secular authorities even mean anything if we ran into the priestesses of other ‘celestial’ dragons?

 

Who was the one ultimately in charge of human affairs? 

 

I didn’t know, but I wanted to be careful. We were aware of the two artefact burial spots, one of which we found, while recovering none - there was no point in rushing to ever more distant places tempting fate. 

There was no telling what awaited us there. There must be more nations in this world, aside from the two kingdoms currently embroiled in the war, with us trapped in the middle.

 

Sadly, we would have to face them all, eventually. 

 

As our numbers swelled and new discoveries were made, it became abundantly clear that a plan to simply settle in ‘our’ side of the valley was no longer a viable solution, not with us drawn into the conflict with the dragoness' recent action. 

 

The expansion was against what I wished. I had no desire for war and certainly didn’t want their lands or gold, or other valuables, let alone the people.

 

I, however, wanted to finally understand what it was all about. Why were‌ we there, where the power that fuelled our growth came from, and again, why? Why the system, with its broken numbers? 

So many hidden secrets, so many unspoken questions, so few answers. 

 

That pulsing energy of the sunken relic, like the beacon, promised the explanation we sought so dearly, and better yet, a chance to control all this madness. So close, yet so far away. 

 

It would be easier if we could just dive under the waves. 

 

There were so many variables, although it would probably be for the best to not explore those, to not provoke other dragons while ‘Lady’ was out. Their role and interests in all of this were also a mystery.

 

Attempting to coexist within the valley was our best bet for now, if only I knew how to do it. It was a mess. A mess I wanted to avoid elsewhere. 

 

As I fell through the void bent by the ‘Displacer’ magic, barely paying attention to it - my trusted little feline guided me through the currents of headache inducing, space time violating dimension of madness, while I, for all those moments,  tried to remember the names. 

 

Of course, I didn’t even recall the names of the current viceroy or his province.

 

Chunnan - the city, it was called Chunnan by the natives, something I had to mentally remind myself of. 

 

Going out to explore the world, seeking the scattered pieces of some grand collection of magical relics, also meant visiting places. Which, in turn, meant remembering the names they were given by the natives - I still couldn’t make up the name of the scroll’s equally mysterious author that sounded almost as ‘Oscar’, but I thought I nailed the pronunciation of the municipality. 

 

A miniscule bit of progress, but progress nevertheless. 

 

It must be important in some other way, the place and time - there was a reason why I awoke the ruins in this province’s forested hills, rather than anywhere else on the continent, but I didn’t and couldn’t puzzle the answer yet. Another reason to deal with the accursed city. 

 

Normal space was eager to wipe away the profanity the ‘Displacer’ had used to deposit me on my destination. I was definitely used to it. It used to be more vertigo and disorientation inducing earlier, and the space beyond that defied the concepts of distance.

 

The noise of the organised chaos welcomed me. The city turned on itself was in complete disorder, its inhabitants scattered, fled or already captured and corralled into different neighbourhoods. I will yet to figure out how to salvage this situation. 

 

“For Master!” 

 

My little cat-girl guide announced our arrival as I still tried to collect my thoughts on the geographical names I could find, even with our recently expanded interaction with the humans. There wasn’t much. I was, however, quite certain I was told at least some. 

 

“For Master!” The anthropomorphic feline meowed. I patted her head as a thanks.

 

“Chunnan, the centre of Surao.” I whispered quietly, repeated only to myself, as a reminder, and looked around. 

 

The city was an excellent example of the typical, eastern Asia styled architecture so prevalent in this world, with its iconic lightweight wooden buildings, hip-and-gable roofs tiled instead of thatched as most outlying villages had. While I had no context for what constituted a truly grand metropolis in this world, the city - Chunnan - it was two steps above anything the countryside has to offer.

 

The only damage caused by the recent, or maybe still outgoing, unrest, broke its colourful, well-kept appearance, with the various scattered debris and items littering the ground, and occasional scars of battle with entranceways damaged as houses had been broken into. 

 

No humans were to be seen, though, only voices, distant screams, carried off by the wind were a sign that they weren’t gone. At least the fighting died down. 

 

My girls, on the other hand, lurked around.  

 

A few ‘Purifiers’ loitered around the street, picking through items left in the aftermath of the riot, or carried from the nearby houses, their foxy forms with a new outfit they likely looted. 

 

Nearby, a few ursine ‘Ravagers’ in full armour stood guard at the estate with its gate broken open. 

 

Above them, a ‘Fleshspeaker’ - or ‘Overseer’ as the bat-girl was larger with dark fur - sat atop of the same gate with the wings spread, ready to fly, her eyes scanning the street. 

 

A hulking abomination, once a human twisted by ‘Fleshspeaker’ magic, came into view, body misshaped, with oddly cancerous muscle growth, dressed in tatters, with the scythed arms replacing the hands, followed by the two oversized insect-like ‘roach-hounds’.

 

It paid me no attention and continued its patrol. 

 

“For Master!” The bat-girl yelped, half in surprise, half in excitement, mentally hurrying her fleshy drones away, while ‘Purifiers’ echoed her expression, rushing closer. My little ‘Displacer’, and the personal escort, refused to budge. A couple of ‘Eviscerator’ appeared immediately after, dropping their invisibility, all armoured in salvaged soldier outfits, rushing to me.

 

“For Master!” 

 

The very moment that a new portal tore the air, bringing in Tama and Miwah, I was surrounded by two dozen of their respective smaller breeds, all vying for attention, while two more ‘Fleshspeakers’ circled above. Even a ‘Mutator’ decided to visit.

 

Only the ‘Defiler’ came later. 

 

“You would be a translator?” I asked, since the ‘Alpha’, Arke, wasn’t around, looking up from the crowd at one of my chiropteran followers on her perch, patiently waiting as her cousins swarmed the ground. 

 

“For Master!” She confirmed, while the crowd echoed with enthusiasm: “Master! Master!” 

 

Itching for their share of attention, they only let me pass after I moved, likely due to Miwah and Tama taking their post at my side, and I properly greeted at least a couple of them, hugs included. 

 

The bat-girl didn’t follow me inside when I went ahead. There had to be another flesh puppet around, I assumed. That worried me a little - how many humans did they turn?

 

I shook my head, rather not thinking about the implications, trusting my monster girl's judgement on the matter, and also believed that the alternative - the killings - may be even worse. 

 

“I take it this is sage’s house?” I queried, looking at the miniature paved courtyard behind the destroyed gate, then heading up the three steps to the stone platform the wooden villa stood atop of. 

 

“I don’t know, Master.” Miwah said, “But he was there when we informed him you would come.” 

 

“I see.” I answered, nodding. Maybe the Sage - I still struggled not to call him Scribe - was a well-paid occupation. 

 

When I entered the building, I started to doubt it ever was an actual abode, in the classical sense. 

 

A library, perhaps, or maybe an archive, with a few low tables, and shelves upon shelves filled with parchments, tablets and scrolls of likely non-magical mundane variety as they didn’t give up that strange, indescribable aura, all haphazardly scattered, almost as if the house itself was recently looted. 

 

Maybe it was. 

 

There was an overturned brazier, and the traces of recent fire that were recently put down, while ‘roach-hound’ snooped around the debris - if the dog-sized hybrid between the cockroach, spider and some other animals could sniff. A glazed-eyed human with thick, blackened veins stood in the corner, a zombified townsman judging from the fine, but dirtied robes. 

 

I didn’t consult the overview yet - it was too unreliable to dwell on - I was certain that there would be much more ‘drones’ when this was over.

 

The Sage didn’t pay attention to any of it. Neither the state of the city, nor the fate of his countrymen concerned him, so it seems, not even the ‘Devourer’ dressed in the flesh-and-chitin outfit sitting on the table intently staring didn’t break the man from his concentration. 

 

Not disturbed by the presence of my gorgeous rat girl, he continued to scribble something on the large sheet of yellow-ish paper, lines, and letters, neither of which I could understand.

 His hand holding the small brush moved quickly and efficiently, not spilling even a droplet of ink, quite impressive considering the simple, primitive writing utensils.

 

I didn’t know how literate the general population was, if at all, but he was certainly trained for this. Perhaps referring to him as the scribe wasn’t that far from the truth - I wouldn’t be able to write this neatly with the simple tiny brush, with such precision, as he did. 

 

The purpose of the document eluded me, even after exchanging a meaningful glance with the ‘Devourer’ that supposedly guarded him the entire time, but I decided to not interrupt the process, turning my attention to the rest of the building.

 

He still did not notice us. 

 

The documents stored there gave no sensation of the supernatural, unexplainable energies the magical equivalent would have had, but there were a lot of them - this was, very likely, an actual hall of records.

 

My girls had to force their way in. 

 

The gate had been broken through, and the signs of a fight were present. 

 

The scroll was, indeed, a common format, as opposed to the bound books - but those were in poor shape, didn’t explain the unseen forces that kept the relic equivalents somehow intact for centuries exposed to elements, while the ordinary papers were threatening to fall apart. Perhaps that was why some were still done though wooden tablets, lost in all this mess. 

 

What information could this all hold? 

 

Was the place secured because of the riot, or was this supposed to be hidden from us? 

 

The questions once more outnumbered the answers.

 

It was clear this wasn’t a relic cache, that much was certain. However, other important documents could be hidden here. 

 

Chronicles, historical documents, tax and property records, depending how well developed their bureaucracy has been before the war, and our arrival, ruined everything. 

 

If we knew whose house was which, I could confine the humans to their respective houses, without confusing them one for another, and just bring them water and food until they decide to behave. 

 

I had no intent to confiscate those from them, even though the clothes the ‘Purifiers’ pilfered would likely never be returned. 

 

There would be maps, I thought, no need for Sora and her ‘Displacers’ to draw me one from their skydiving sessions. 

 

My girls started to look through it, but they clearly weren’t any more gifted in understanding the local script any more than I was without the help. We would need an interpreter either way.  

 

Who was in charge of this place? 

 

The Sage continued to write, lost in his work, not noticing the human sized anthropomorphic rat in front of him.

 

I made a few steps closer as he was making a few finishing touches to the document he was so captivated with, and hurried to complete finishing it with a lead stamp made in red ink, as opposed to the text in all black. 

 

“For Master!” The rat-girl sighed, apparently frustrated by the human she guarded. 

 

He yelped, surprised, jumped up and spilled the ink on the table upon noticing the ‘Devourer’, the writing supplies scattering all around. I didn’t think my rat-girls, especially the ‘evolved’ variant, were so unnoticeable as they had the size of a grown human, but the Sage managed to overlook one in front of him, so engrossed was he in his work. 

 

If he cursed, I didn’t know. I didn’t understand the language, but it took him a while to finally acknowledge the presence of the monster girl that was there all along. It was an impressive display of hyper-focusing on the task, or a serious issue. I couldn’t tell. 

 

“He has been working on this document since you asked, Master, but didn’t say what it says.” Miwah helpfully explained, in a hush tone.

 

Treaty between us and the humans, one we never got to sign? 

 

A journal entry, describing the events? 

 

Or perhaps an official letter, hence the stamp I just saw? 

 

Before I could speculate on this even more, he noticed me. 

 

He turned away from his work and bowed down, mumbling something, perhaps an apology. His body language betrayed what I thought to be nervosity, not fear or anger like his countrymen. 

 

I decided to start the conversation with something other than the seaside site after exchanging glances with Miwah. Tama didn’t appear too flirty when the humans were around, but remained on my side to show their status. 

 

“Do you know of any tombs nearby?” I asked, carefully, without realising he doesn’t understand our tongue any more than we understand him, but the zombified human lurking in the corner mechanically barked the translation. It shook, almost like a seizure, with the creature’s muscles moved forcefully by the magic. 

 

It bothered me, but not the Sage. He answered. 

 

“There…the tomb… house … of Gam…rich…province.” Translation was barely intelligible, the human puppet struggling with our speech, an equivalent by the machine script than a living speaker, despite being made of flesh and bone. 

 

I looked at Tama, regretting we couldn’t get quite a large ‘Overseer’ inside, so it was either her, or Miwah interpreting. 

 

Though recently able to understand a conversation, I wasn’t quite able to distinguish the individual voices from the endless hum.

 

They didn’t have such a restriction, making my closest crucial to the interaction with the world. My girls could talk to each other over enormous distances through their telepathic link, after all, and who had the authority over the respective didn’t matter that much. 

 

“We were told those names, Master.” 

 

It was Miwah who spaced out, consulting the host. 

 

“Gam Family? House or clan, perhaps? They had their family tomb and other rich ones have been buried in various places of the province, Master.”

 

“Gam?” I asked. Was I supposed to know the name?

 

Names, either of the natives themselves, or their nations, regions and towns, were confusing, and my memory didn’t fare well even in case of the dozens of my girls I so recklessly named to abuse the mechanic that gave them life. 

 

It was all starting to backfire. 

 

Either Tama and Miwah would have to check it for me.

 

There was an exchange of words, all equally undecipherable,in the local language, but luckily for me, the translation seemed to work with decent efficiency if there was the flesh-puppet in the area, and any of my girls, not just ‘Fleshspeaker’ or ‘Overseer’. 

 

Arke’s ideas had merit, as horrible as wiring native human’s brains to their other creations was, but I refused to entertain them right now. 

 

To his credit, the Sage wasn’t bothered by the way it was done now, even if he seems distraught in general. 

 

“Viceroy’s relatives. He described where it was. Apparently, it seems disrespectful to burn the bodies of … important people, Master?” Miwah interpreted, even if it took her some length, and there was an uncharacteristic but notable sneer at the importance of humans. 

 

Didn’t he say burning bodies were acceptable before? Did I cause the unrest because there is a specific ritual for specific people? 

 

There were so many things to pay attention to. Maybe even Ari didn’t know the intricacies, despite the fact she was a human, there might be customs varying between regions, and so on.

 

I hated it already - so many things that would offend humans besides the usual, logical things - but it was beyond the point now. 

 

“Miwah? What is the name of the author of the scrolls?” I asked, and quickly added, considering we were in the library, or the archive, of the mundane variety: “The magical ones.” 

 

I would have to update my terminology eventually. 

 

“Pho-us-kah, Master.” 

 

“Pho-us-kah…” I tasted the word with considerable effort. It still sounded like “Oscar” to me, even from a strictly rational perspective there wasn’t any reason to assume there wasn’t any correlation between it, and similarly sounding words from Earth’s languages. 

 

If that person being related to my powers hinted at a similar otherworldly origin, the name the natives used might very well have come from them adapting the actual one to their language, too.

 

Although, there was no proof that either was the case. 

 

At least, it was easier to remember this way.. 

 

Saying it aloud did, however, get us some attention, as the Sage jumped on his feet obsessively.

 

“It is not what I had in mind. I was told that one of the scrolls of Pho-us-kah was buried in the tomb nearby. Do you know what they may have done to secure it?” 

 

“No, he didn’t have an idea the forbidden texts are there….” was the answer, predictably, though the man rushed to burst out of the door only to be stopped by the ‘Ravager’ blocking the entrance. 

 

“...he is willing to check them one by one, Master. Waited for too long…” 

 

There was no point in desecrating the random tombs in the area. We already knew, roughly, where to look. The ‘Lady’ managed to give us this direction before her untimely disappearance - through the eastern entrance to the valley, north following the mountains - we just need it to check it against whatever records, if any, the province had. 

 

The man protested, but I, for one, had a better idea.

 

“We don’t need you to check every one of them. We need you to identify the right one.” 

 

My words, mangled to the local speech, came from our ‘interpreter zombie’.

 

The obsessive wiseman calmed down a little.

 

With his help, we could not only save us a considerable amount of time and effort, avoid sending out the valuable and busy ‘Fleshspeakers’ and ‘Mutators’ on exhausting aerial reconnaissance missions, and more importantly, get two artefacts as the prize of one once the diving issue is solved. 

 

We could test what standard wards even were, without the risk of drowning…

 

Local equivalent of a deranged academic didn’t seem to be good at waiting, it seemed. 

 

“Calm down. Is there any map of this land? A province? Even the entire kingdom? I assume not all tombs are in the same place” 

 

Now, the man’s attention quickly changed towards the shelves holding the stacks upon stacks of the rolled paper, glancing through them in the frantic, manic search, clearly not finding what he was searching for and disappearing deeper into the building. 

 

After a few loud bangs, which without a doubt were the sign of his rage against some locked container, he came back, this time with the rolled piece of paper. 

 

The map. 

 

It wasn’t a good map by any measure, at least by modern standards, resembling more a doodling made in colourful inks, but it was still better than anything we could produce in the limited timeframe and next to no experience in cartography - there were a very clear outlines of rivers, hills, and the mountain range, along with the remarks made in the local script.

Perhaps it wasn’t for nothing after all. 

 

The Sage said something. 

 

I waited for the translation. A questioning look towards my girls, and the mindless flesh puppet stumbled forwards, prompted likely by the ‘Fleshspeaker’ or ‘Overseer’ away from sight. 

 

“A map of the lands under the governance of the Viceroy of Surao, Master,” Miwah offered, taking her time to question the host after the unheard, but felt exchange. 

 

A province, municipality, not the entire country then - it worked for us, we had to start small, and instead of trying to obtain the information about the more distant sites the man likely didn’t hear out, I decided to verify the direction the ‘Lady’ had given much earlier. 

 

“The kingdom’s capital is on this map?”

 

“No, Master.” 

 

Good. At the moment, we cared only about the closest locations too.

 

I came closer, kneeling near the table it was placed on. Luckily, neither the map nor the document the Sage had written, has been soaked by the spilt ink.

 

“Where is the north?” I asked, trying to orient myself to the image presented even if I couldn’t read the annotations normal, native, reader would focus on, explaining what we were looking at. 

 

A tough attempt at translation followed, not bringing me any closer to even understand the basic words. The Sage pointed at the map. I was looking at it wrong - it was drawn sideways - and turned the paper.

 

“Is this an eastern pass out of the valley?” 

 

I asked. There seems to be an agreement, eventually, for all our difficulties with communication, and our attempt to circumvent our limitations. 

 

“Through the eastern pass, to the north.” I moved my finger, briefly worried my touch would damage it: “My….”

 

I paused, allowing the puppet to follow, spitting the words mechanically, while I silently settled on the term how to refer to our horde so they could understand us better, opting on something rather impersonal, hoping that my furry menagerie wouldn’t be offended by it.. 

 

“...my forces were supposed to move north and find the burial mound somewhere along here, where the scroll of…” 

 

Another pause - don’t call him ‘Oscar’ I reminded myself. 

 

“... Scroll of Pho-us-kah is hidden.” 

 

Briefly concerned, the complex sentence would confuse the man, but he seemed focused, more focused than before, and was seemingly able to catch the meaning of my words even after the ‘zombie’ scrambled them rapid fire. 

 

The Sage stroked his chin, and said something. 

 

Of course, I didn’t understand. His outburst seems rather lengthy, but Miwah was able to summarise it quite well. 

 

The zombified human mechanically droned as he spoke. 

 

“There is nothing there, Master.” My mate’s words summarised it well, even if she need a few pauses to gather her wits about it: “The area between the mountains and wide river is mostly empty, save for the settlements on the main, royal road, and the riverbanks. It has been searched before…” 

 

The Sage, countied the tirade, speaking, pointing at the map, never stopping. 

 

When he finally stopped, the summary was forthcoming. My girl’s memory was unparalleled. 

 

Unsurprisingly, we weren’t the first ones to search for the ultimate collection of over six hundred of those mysterious parchments, with the bigger players included not only the government, or rather former kings, of this state we were in, but also their enemies.

 

They all failed, with the so-called Forbidden Library remaining the largest collection of what was known to mortals, which … 

 

We already knew that part of the story. I had no desire to challenge the seat of this kingdom’s government. 

 

“The Viridian High Lady…” I said, dragoness title annoying as ever, “...she knew where they were.” 

 

I was expecting a dismissal, but he did not question our rather unusual source of intel, and after another pause, and waiting for the translation again. 

 

He continued. 

 

A fact about their previous rulers, this land being a site of some historical battle, names of which flies above my head, answered very little, aside from the interesting curiosity that this was where the author of those scrolls of eldritch knowledge lived. A hermit in the mountains, writing a tome of the forbidden knowledge, sounded like a cliche story, but I wasn’t one to complain. 

 

Was one of the scroll in the tomb of its author? 

 

“Do you know where he was buried? Oskar.” I asked, and corrected myself: “Pho-us-kah. Where was he buried?” 

 

“No…” 

 

A tirade continued, showing the man’s significant frustration. 

 

It, apparently, stood to reason that the mysterious, legendary manuscripts could be hidden where their equally elusive author lived, or died, but so far, it has not been found after the gods drove the ‘poor Oskar’ insane. While I would have doubts about the late part, normally, I met ‘Lady’. 

 

“Cruel punishment to be exiled there…” Miwah concluded the translation, while Tama only sneered at the man’s complaint. 

 

The Sage had years to think this through, we did not. 

 

Even if I didn’t get the full meaning behind his words, it was quite clear that the place didn’t seem to be on the map. It was something the ‘Lady’ said herself. I was aware, but I expected there would be a place of note. 

 

There wasn’t one. No ancient memorials of the times long gone were around, aside that ruins the forest, everyone avoided one we already searched. 

 

The map seems to acknowledge there was a major road - and anything it touched - but it was just about it.

 

We wouldn’t find the tomb by the method of elimination. 

 

On the next one, then. 

 

“Other place is on the coast…” 

 

I tried to point my finger, tracing it along the map, but that part wasn’t even drawn in - the sea was, as far as I understood, to the west, but the coastal fishing village wasn’t even recorded there. In fact, nothing was.

 

Sora said south-west, didn’t she? 

 

While it was possible, likely even, that the Viceroy himself wouldn’t be concerned with a few huts of the coast, far away from his own seat of power, possibly several days of travel away even at the best of circumstances  

 

Not under the viceroy's authority?  

 

It wasn’t helping and was confusing the situation even further. 

 

He started to rattle on - the Sage ready to burst through the door, possibly to dig out the relics himself, perhaps even with his bare hands, and this time it was the ‘Devourer’ that had to rein him in a little. 

 

“There is a …” Miwah tried to translate, while Tama looked like it was undignified to bother with the humans. I could feel her desire to be just done with it. 

 

I gestured to her to have patience. 

 

The lecture continued, as I briefly checked the translation.

 

The family of the local lord has been supposedly buried in the hill in the centre of the valley. 

It was a completely different spot, and I wasn’t too keen on tomb raiding - especially if it would just anger the natives, put another village in disarray, and gain us nothing of value. 

 

The Sage really dwelt on the idea of the tomb though, since he kept returning to it. 

 

There was, as far as I could tell, no connection between it, and what we were shown, or had learned ourselves, especially considering the seaside place wasn’t a tomb. Unless it was flooded, it would imply the drastic changes to the coastline in the past, long before people even settled in the village. Ari was just trying to convert.

 

It didn’t add up. 

 

Ransacking the last resting place of Viceroy’s family on the basis it is a burial place was a horrible idea. 

 

Even more so if the ‘scroll’ - a real, magical one, I would have to put the terms straight later considering everything was technically in the same format - the relic was elsewhere. 

 

I wondered whether they were buried in some pattern, but so far, we could just draw the line. Enough of it. 

 

“Did you know how the scrolls were secured?” I tried to redirect the conversation to more practical matters. 

 

This time, however, was an explanation, which brought me to the kingdom’s capital and their personal collection. A king’s vault, armed guards, magical wards, that sort of thing. 

 

The Sage didn’t know what the dragons and their followers did to hide the rest. 

 

“Our scouts would have to find it the hard way.” 

 

He, however, became increasingly agitated, and it was leading nowhere. 

 

“I have an offer for you.” I said, to distract him from his obsession with the artefact, towards the task I have for him. 

 

The Sage's attention peaked as the fleshy drone repeated it in his native tongue. 

 

“As I said, my scouts could search for the scroll, but I have to divert them away from dealing with this city…” 

 

I gestured around. 

 

He said something, while Miwah followed up: “He understands.” 

 

“We need your help in pacifying the city, confine the citizens to their respective houses, each to their own, until they accept the new rule. We need someone who they could trust to speak to them.” 

 

There was a reply. 

 

“He does not understand now.” 

 

As far as I understood, he lived here, within the city, and was a known person to them, unlike Ari we picked up from the squalor earlier. 

 

“I should make you a mayor of this city. You know the people, the sooner they accept our rules, the sooner we can resume searching for the scroll.” I offered, “And in exchange, once we recover the Scrolls we would make sure you are able to study them first. You would be the first and only human that would have access to them for…” 

 

I didn’t have a chance to finish my sentence. 

 

He didn’t even hesitate, his answer quick, and decisive, and was out of the door before I could even ask what it was about. 

 

This time, the ‘Ravager’ guard didn’t stop him, while the ‘Devourer’ - I assumed was assigned by Narita to be the man’s handler - tried to catch up to him, much to the amusement of the ‘Purifiers’ lurking at the entrance. It irritated the roach-hound too, and it too gave chase. 

 

I was, once again, alone with my girls, as the ‘Overseer’ sent her fleshy puppet away. A few ‘Eviscerators’ decided to sneak into the library, though, and picked through the paperwork I couldn’t read. 

 

My ‘personal Displacer’ also decided to join in. Even though she wasn’t too keen showing in front of humans, she clearly thought that she should remain in touching distance when they weren’t around - preferably on my lap. 

 

I paid her no mind, looking at the door which the Sage left. 

 

“What was that about?” 

 

“He would do anything for access to those scrolls, Master.” 

 

I sighed. 

 

Even though motivating the Sage wouldn’t clearly be a problem, there was very little we could learn from him, considering he wasn’t privy to the dragons’ motivations to scatter the elusive artefact to the wind. 

 

We were where we started. A little bit wiser, but still… 

 

I picked up the other document - one he forgot about, careful not to smear as it was freshly written, handing it to the nearby ‘Purifier’. She giggled. 

 

“For Master!” 

 

“Don’t burn it.I want that translated too.” I ordered, and she run off,

 

“For Master!” Apparently, Arke would have to actively look for someone who could reliably read that. 

 

So, without the lead to follow, and without a specific task to fulfil, I was there, sitting on the ground, in the half-ruined city archive, with Miwah and Tama on my side, and the very affectionate ‘Displacer’ demanding attention. 

 

“For Master!” 

 

I wasn’t fine with that. 

 

With ‘Lady’ out of commission, and our objective separated from us by metric tons of water, the only thing we could do was to wait until we devised a safest way to dive to unspecified depths, avoiding the wards placed on the sunk artefact.

 

“An evening relaxation of the beach, Master?” Tama offered, leaning closer, nudging me gently, her fluffy tails soothing me, while Miwah decided that she too wanted a little bit more personal attention after being my professional aide. 

 

It didn’t sound that bad - even though the beach wasn’t as secure as our lands were.

 

However, I wouldn’t calm down so easily, it seems I didn’t exhaust my options to obtain the abilities we need before I could retread back to rest. 

A little ‘Displacer’ - for some reason an ordinary, unnamed version kept me company even after her named sister was evolved - and it brought me to another idea. 

 

I have not exhausted my options yet.

 

“Did we get any more of those arcane fruits?”