Chapter -01 Perspectives

From: Blood, Coin and Death: The Bank’s secret history.

"Ma'am? Your seven o'clock is here."

Octavia did not look up from her work as Taffodile called out to her. Nor did she respond. Her entire focus was on the piece of metal in front of her.

One wrong move, one slip up, and her Spirit would waver, or her fingers would twitch, and the enchantment would be ruined.

She could melt and reform the plate, of course, but doing so would take hours, to say nothing of the days it would take to re-carve the enchantments already present. It would also compromise the material. Not cataclysmically, but enough to be noticeable. Calderine might be a bastion of enchantment and material for such, but idelium was not something that appeared with enough frequency to waste even a gram.

So, Octavia remained absolutely silent at her Spirit carved particle thin lines in the soft metal, swerving clear of those already carved yet still close enough to interact and change them. This particular effect was, thankfully, simple to weave, requiring only thirty curves, fourteen sharp turns at various angles, and only one jump. If it weren't the third to last of seventeen runes, and one mistake would set her back a week of effort and eight thousand, two hundred and sixty-two gold, then Octavia could have done it in half the time.

It still only took her twelve more minutes to finish carving the vaguely diadem shaped rune into the idelium.

Once done, she set the plate on its heating pad, keeping it warm enough to be malleable but not so much to melt.

"Send them in," Claudia called out to Taffodile, dissipating the Echo she'd been playing with when she noticed her twin was done for the moment.

Octavia spun her seat to face the door to her workshop as her assistant opened the door, ushering in a nervous mouse therianthrope. She scanned the room anxiously, her eyes drifting from the forge and workbench to the sole seat, the one Claudia was lounging in, before settling on the Banker.

Not that small woman's eyes met Octavia's. In fact, she seemed to be taking special consideration to avoid meeting gazes as she shuffled nervously in place, unsure what to do with her feet or hands.

Taffodile closed the door behind the woman, the sound causing her to let out a squeak of surprise, eyes darting to and fro around the enclosed room, as if searching for an escape. But there were no other doors and no windows. She was trapped with them and, as Octavia activated the enchantments on the room, completely isolated from the outside world.

"Drop the disguise," Claudia said, her eyes narrowed in anger.

Octavia kept her cold mask on, letting her sister express their feelings while she maintained the necessary facade. Even if she wanted to feed this creature to a blender.

Slowly.

The body language of the mousy woman shifted. Her nerves disappeared, her back unhunched, and she confidently met Octavia's eyes.

"Rude," they said. "It's not a disguise. I am as I appear."

"Doesn't matter," Claudia insisted. "Choose a different one."

"Why?" It asked with a furrowed brow. "It doesn't matter right?"

The twins remained silent, staring the creature down until it shrugged casually.

"Whatever," it muttered as the flesh on the mouse therianthrope shifted and warped until a handsome human man stood in her place.

"This better?" Captain Charlan Rose asked smoothly with a charming smile.

Neither Claudia nor Octavia were impressed and their faces showed it so, with a roll of its eyes, it shifted once again. The familiar form of a hunched crone, covered in wrinkles and warts, was acceptable enough for Claudia to lessen her glare, even if it didn't dissipate it completely.

"Everyone is so quick to judge based on looks," it complained, its voice a higher pitch than before and noticeably raspy. "Nobody wants me for me, just for my body. It's enough to give a phantomime a complex."

"I judge on competence. On usefulness. On value." Octavia finally spoke, her voice carefully controlled and neutral. The act was as much real as fake these days. "And your value has dropped after your failure."

"Failure?" The Rogue said, its tone disbelieving. "I did what I was paid for."

"You were hired to dispose of Duke Sauvin Helloise-"

"I did!"

"Permanently." Octavia finished, the narrowing of her eyes, the only outward sign of her displeasure at being interrupted. "Instead, you let him run around Calderine without supervision. Without precautions-" "I-" "Without. Telling. Me."

Octavia did not let herself be interrupted again. With a subtle gesture, Claudia's scythe was resting on her shoulder and her Echos sprawled around her, watching the shapeshifter like a starving man at a buffet.

They hadn't gotten where they were today by letting people treat her like little girls. The only way people would take her seriously is if they believed not doing so would lead to consequences they could not afford.

"So, tell me, why should I pay you when your negligence almost cost us everything?"

Octavia wanted to give the order, wanted to unleash Claudia on this monster who'd inadvertently hurt her brother with its incompetence and who'd almost failed catastrophically.

Yet she couldn't. Not without a reason.

The cost benefit analysis told her that it would gain them nothing but a few levels and might cost them a whole lot more, in material damage, reputational damage if their association got out, and in opportunity cost. The Bank did not have so many contractors who could do permanent damage that they could lose one. Or worse, make an enemy of one.

That did not mean she'd stand for failure or let this resentment go unpunished.

"It hasn't," the crone rasped, its eyes drifting toward Claudia in caution. It wasn't a fighter. It knew it. They knew it. Worse, it was very weak. While most beings who could inflict something permanent were in the late three hundreds in level, it hadn't even crossed two hundred. If it weren't for its unique specialty, it wouldn't even be qualified to be speaking to them. "I'd have heard if he came back. That I haven't meant you got him."

"At significant cost," Octavia stressed. The monster wasn't getting out of this because the plan technically succeeded due to luck. If nothing else, she owed it to Neron to ensure his death was worth as much as she could gain.

"But the worst was avoided," the phantomime insisted. "And I was careful. I took every precaution. Nobody saw me except the target. I turned him into a small, weak creature with one of the rarest therianthrope types, then turned into one myself to instill paranoia. I couldn't kill him there, or there'd be an Echo. I couldn't carry him out or the enchantments would sense it. Or worse, the Duchess. So, I used the enchantments to eject a pest. Like they're made to do. I simply gave it a bit more... force to send it over the inner wall."

In other words, she'd turned the duke into a mouse, caught him before the enchantments pushed him outside, put enough paranoia in him so he wouldn't reach out to any of the rare mouse therianthropes, then threw the creature outside, disguising it as the enchantments doing their work.

All logical. All very thorough. All within bounds of expectations.

Except for a few minor, crucial, details.

"The smaller the creature, the less their frontal area compared to their mass, the less the acceleration. The less the acceleration, the easier it is for them to survive a fall."

The monster, never having any sort of formal education, looked at Claudia blankly.

It wasn't that they were dumb. They understood the idea of smaller things taking less damage from falls because they had used such tactics in the past themselves. They simply lacked the terminology to express it or understand why it happened. So, it answered simply.

"I threw him really hard."

"You did not expect someone on their fifth Job to survive a measly fall?" Octavia pointed out as well.

"Not when they have the Body, Control, and Spirit of a mouse!"

And there it was. The simple detail the creature had overlooked, through all its careful planning and subterfuge, was that basic physical capabilities were only one part of the equation.

It, who'd been born a high-class monster, could change its shape at will but never had it been forced to inhabit a sub-optimal one or one where their physical ability was weaker than an average human.

It had never been forced to learn a technique as basic as tucking and rolling to disperse momentum from a fall because, even if it didn't transform into a shape for flying, its Body was high enough that stone was more fragile than itself.

Octavia did not need to be Medea to understand what had happened.

Sauvin Helloise, ambushed in his own home by a trusted 'guard' and forcefully turned into a mouse would have been disoriented. Without access to any of his magic, or his skills and spells, due to the unfamiliar shape of his Spirit, and with the basic stats of a rodent, he'd have been helpless to fight against the phantomime.

Yet, that same attacker would have talked to him after turning into a mouse therianthrope. That might have disoriented him further, and made him paranoid, but it would have also given him time to calm down. He, a veteran of dozens of battles and innumerable monster subjugations, would have adapted quickly. He still couldn't fight back as he was thrown, but control his descent enough to not die on impact? That was completely possible.

Because he couldn't allow himself to die.

No longer one of the Blessed, if he died he'd lose his Self for an indeterminate part of time with no guarantee of ever getting it back. He had to be extra cautious.

From there, he'd have sought a way to undo the curse on either his Body or his Spirit. If he could be confident in meeting anyone he could trust, he might have been able to communicate in one fashion or another, but he couldn't trust anyone. Because the enemy was a shapeshifter who was probably still hunting him.

On top of that, every low-level player or adventurer who discovered a mouse with a Self would see it as free levels, and every Native would want to exterminate it before it evolved, seeing it as a monster.

Sauvin would have sought his own cure, but every institution or private library with those kinds of direct tomes or materials would be heavily protected by the enchantments that were so common in Calderine.

Raising a private force of other mice, until one of them developed their own Self and could become a field leader, Sauvin had a trustworthy force that could act as scouts. It took time, months even, but it guaranteed whoever did gain sapience wasn't secretly the shapeshifter.

From there, eject other rat and mice groups as they spread over the city in search of any ritual tomes or other sources of knowledge on what had happened to him. Once he either identified the creature who'd done this to him, or the exact nature of the affliction, he could work to get it corrected.

Everyone involved had done their best, taken all precautions possible, laid out their plans, and executed them as well as could be expected.

Neron had blundered into all of it, dying in the process, and upending everything.

Now who knew where Sauvin had been reborn or if he'd ever get his Self back. Octavia had a lot of resources at her disposal but even she couldn't search the entire city for one mouse, or even the area around it. It was entirely possible that the world thought Calderine wasn't 'safe' for the creature and it resurrected somewhere farther away. She couldn’t look for Sauvin and expect any chance of success.

At least not without alerting everyone to what she was looking for.

"Irrespective of your reasoning, had you simply alerted me to the fact he might have survived, I could have taken steps to secure and detain him," Octavia continued coldly. "Now he is lost in the wind, and we have no way of knowing if and when he will reemerge. We will be taking steps to cushion the impact if he does return, which will be coming out of your payment."

"You don't get to cheat me," the crone growled, their face elongating into a snout filled with bared fangs. "We had a deal. I got rid of the duke, like agreed."

"Technically correct," Octavia nodded, even as her heart burned. "That is why you will still be paid at all. If you want the full amount, then you will need to provide further services to make up for your mishandling of the situation."

"I won't be able to do something similar." They returned to their crone form as they realized the deal wasn't being reneged upon, merely renegotiated. "It'll take me years to regenerate the spent Spirit."

"No, but there are other, less drastic, tasks fit for one of your abilities."

"Three. None of them targeting anything over fourth Job or two-fifty."

"Ten."

"Four."

Before Octavia continued with negotiations she paused. Looked at her sister. Looked back at the monster. Weighed the values of her heart with the values of the Bank and did the calculation.

The answer was surprisingly easy to come to.

"Let me be perfectly clear," Octavia hissed, letting the cold mask fall to show her raw fury. That seemed to freak out the creature more than anything else this evening, as it took a step back, one wrinkled hand turning into a bone blade it raised defensively. "Not only was your failure bad for business, possibly catastrophically if it weren't for a bit of luck on your side, but it cost me. Personally. I will not put up with that kind of loss."

The phantomime didn't say anything as an extra pair of eyes grew on the left side of its face so it could watch Octavia and the glowering Claudia at once.

"This will be your final offer." Octavia flexed her Spirit, and her workshop came alive behind her. She gave the creature a moment to appreciate the staggering number of weapons pointed her way.

They tried not to look intimidated.

They tried.

"Seven jobs. No combat against higher levels. That is the only rule." Octavia could see them weighing their options. They too had a scale of benefits and costs. Time to put a bit more weight on her side. "If you reject this, then I will ensure you remain a brain-dead beast for the rest of your natural born life. Except for those brief moments I allow you to regain yourself only so you can understand why you are in so much pain."

That did it.

"I want the first batch of locations now." They said, agreeing in a way that would save them a little face. A transparent ploy.

"Done."

With casual ease, Octavia flicked a clay tablet to the shapeshifter which it caught with ease.

As soon as they touched it, there was a brief flash of light, and the contract was complete. The phantomime grimaced as they realized what had happened but didn't object, opening a portion of their flesh in their chest to insert the tablet.

"Contact me when you have the first job," the Rogue said as it turned to leave.

Octavia let them go without further threats or warnings.

They belonged to her now.

******

From: The Pit, Part 1: Ambition

"I urge you to hold your questions until later," the Voice of Leidon's Council said softly as he poured Gaven and Awns each a cup of wine. "We are awaiting another to join us."

Taking his own seat opposite them, his toga-like attire billowing in unseen wind, even seated, drew the eye with lines of red and purple on white and concealing who knew what sort of body under its many folds. Even as the old man with kind eyes held up his own glass in a silent toast, neither of his guests let down their guard for a moment.

Gaven did not drink alcohol and Awns preferred mead, but they took it nonetheless. When someone on their sixth Job pours you a drink, you do not complain. You take the drink, and you thank them for it with your best smile.

Which they did.

"A fine vintage," Awns said after going through his usual sampling process. "Your vineyard in the south?"

"Correct," Peitos Omeka said with evident pride. "I hope you do not take offense that it is not the most expensive wine I have. My position does lead to a few benefits and the odd gift here and there. However, I find judging something based on its coin a touch... simple."

"Sincerity holds a value on its own."

"Then I can think of nothing more than one of my family's few remaining bottles from before the Woe to demonstrate how much I value the help Players, and the Banukeita in particular, have been to Leidon and its citizens."

Gaven didn't hide his smile as he sipped at his own glass. Awns might not like wine, but he could discuss it with the best of them. Along with practically anything else, which was why Gaven had made him the vice guild leader of the Banukeita Guild.

Any arguments for nepotism were swiftly dismissed by anyone who talked with him for any length of time, or experienced just how smooth life in the guild could be under his watch.

So, as Awns held conversation on a variety of subjects from wine to agriculture to the exploratory outlook in the coming years, Gaven sat back and pretended to drink. This was Awns' arena.

Leave to him what is his and Gaven shall have what is Gaven's. He only hoped it was worth missing out on whatever deal the other guilds were getting for helping the Bank set up their little city.

The first hint of just what sort of trouble he was getting into came when a portion of the solid wall of the sitting room slid aside to admit a middle-aged woman.

Had they not come unarmed, she might very well have been stabbed before the concealed door fully opened. As it were, Awns was still forced to clench his fist to destroy his pillar of stone before it could impale her, the rubble dropping to the floor in fine gravel.

The intruder, a middle-aged woman in a similar attire to Peitos, though lacking the gorget that signified his office, did not appear fazed in the least and stepped over the scattered stone with a casual ease.

"Greetings, Rejicerene Vicua," Awns said, as much for politeness’ sake as to tell Gaven who this woman was. "When Voxun Omeka told us he was expecting another guest, he did not mention who it would be... Or the manner of their arrival. You have our apologies."

Gaven, with a name and local title now, could only frown. Even he, largely indifferent to the political landscape, could understand what a secret meeting with these two people meant.

Rejicerene was the female version of the title given to the leader of the largest opposition group of whoever was the Voice of the Council. Not an official position, but one that acted as a rallying cry to counterbalance the power of the Voxun.

It was expected, even demanded to a degree, that they would provide the exact opposite opinion of the Voice. Even if it was objectively the wrong decision, they were judged on how well they could argue against and provide counter suggestions to whatever the Voxun wished.

And the feud between Voxun Peitos Omeka and Rejicerene Philia Vicua was particularly quarrelsome, with the latter having checked no less than a third of all the plans Peitos had brought forth since his term of office began a decade before Players arrived.

So, with such bitter enemies being brought together, what could that mean for Gaven, Awns, and the Banukeita Guild?

"There is nothing to forgive," the Rejicerene said magnanimously as she waved her hand, closing the secret door behind her, vanishing the rubble and any sign of its presence. "This is a most irregular situation, and a certain level of caution is expected. Rather, the one who should apologize is the man who is too old to remember to warn his guests."

"Hoho," the Voxun laughed lightly. "Then I shall apologize. Please forgive, dear guests, an old man for his little tricks. It is rare I get the opportunity for a bit of fun at my age."

The way he said it, and the position of his eyes, made it clear he was excluding Philia from his 'dear guests.'

"Apology accepted," Awns said genially.

"So why did you bring us here," Gaven said, speaking up for the first time since arriving.

Awns wasn't the type to display his emotions openly, but Gaven knew his lover well enough to notice his body language as he sat back in his chair. He wasn't pleased with Gaven's interruption, but not to the degree of actual displeasure. More than likely, Gaven had violated some sort of small propriety that needed to be observed.

Thankfully, whatever the guild leader had missed didn't seem too important as both members of Leidon's Council of High Citizens overlooked it in favor of responding to his question.

"We have a quest for you," Philia answered gravely. "The most important one since the World Woe."

"Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves," Peitos spoke up, seeing the effect Philia's words had on the pair of players. "First of all, what do you know about the Archs?"

Gaven turned his head and looked at Awns, who answered for them.

"Large archways of unknown material or enchantment, they are remnants left over from Kalkos, the Empire who ruled a third of the continent. During the time of the Kalkos Empire, they acted as teleportation gateways, allowing large numbers of men and material to travel the length of the empire in moments and were key to their hegemony. When the Empire was destroyed in the Woe, the Archs ceased functioning. Currently, there are six known Archs, one here in Leidon, three others in Calderine, Urugalkin, and Tilbur. The other two, in Calcula and Indaro, are destroyed, though there is currently no known method of damaging them. Current theories place four more at various locations of known cities of the Kalkos Empire, but until such time as they have been rediscovered, they remain theories."

Peitos nodded along at Awns' summary and, once he was done, spoke up.

"A good summation of public knowledge. There are only two matters to correct, both of which the public have no way of knowing. First, we know for certain that a seventh one lies to the south, in a city called Mathiandi. It, and its Arch, survived the Woe. However, the Voxun and council at the time cut all contact with them due to their violent and xenophobic beliefs.”

“Beliefs?”

“I only have my predecessor’s notes, you understand,” Peitos shrugged helplessly. “As far as I understand it, ecclesiastic control was strong there and the locals of the city overthrew their ruling system because they believed the Woe was the result of impiety towards the gods. Impiety, such as creating new Sanctuaries in Sei Piopane’s domain, not providing enough sacrifices for Xolxia, that kind of thing. All nonsense, of course, as our own divines prove.”

“More importantly,” Philia stressed, as if to get one up on the old man. “The grand temple to Nim was taken over by a faction that had certain beliefs regarding inter-racial pairings. The Theiodotian sub faction, the Blessed Children, worked with them to take over their own congregation, which made the city a lot less tolerant of non-human races.”

That would do it, Gaven nodded grimly. Even he knew of the Blessed Children, a vocal minority that believed humans, as the most populous and widespread of the Blessed races, were superior to others. Their proof was the fact that humans could use any Rebirth Pool to become any race that had one, but the reverse was impossible. And, once a human became an elf, for example, they could only use other Rebirth Pools specifically for elvan sub-categories.

Gaven, personally, simply saw it as a way God’s Nature allowed players to change their races, but the locals would have no way of knowing that before the advent of Players.

Leidon, it should be noted, had huge swaths of non-human Blessed. Owing, in large part, to being near no less than six Rebirth Pools of varying races. And those were just the publicly known ones. Gaven knew of two more, reserved for only the privileged, and heard rumors of dozens of others.

“What about their Oliaq divines?” Awns asked curiously. Gaven almost rolled his eyes, but held it in. “Did they have them? Did they also lose their powers?”

“They did,” Philia answered gravely. “Mathiandi suffered even worse than Leidon. The sea is only ten ylms from their walls now. According to my own predecessor’s notes, the only reason initial contact did not lead to war was because the Mathiandian army was fully deployed defending the city.”

Gaven grimaced. He’d spent some time in his early months in God’s Nature near the coast and did not wish to do so again. At least not till he was level three hundred or more.

“Leidon simply could not handle a war in the wake of the Woe,” Peitos continued. “In the centuries since, much of the population has forgotten about them or believed they were lost like most other capitals, in no small part due to Poplin Forest making travel between our two cities impossible without severe detours westward and the sea cutting off the east. The original path between our two cities has been lost in the centuries with the growth of the forest."

"Should you really be telling us all this?" Awns asked with a frown.

"It is of no consequence at this point," Philia answered. "With the rate Players have explored and expanded, pioneering the Westward Path and rediscovering Calderine, it is simply a matter of time until a way around Poplin is discovered and with it, Mathiandi."

"Should you be the ones to discover a new road, then I wish you the best of luck," Peitos chuckled grimly. "Unless much has changed in the last centuries, it will be nowhere as welcoming to Players as Calderine. And that is not why we are meeting now."

"The second matter," Gaven pressed, having tired of the theological talk.

"The Archs,” Peitos nodded. “While the public believes that the Kalkos Empire were the creators of the Archs, it is a case of putting the ipid before the egg. Kalkos did not build the Archs in their cities, but rather placed cities around where they found Archs."

While a native might have been shocked by this revelation, both players simply accepted it stoically. After all, a forerunner civilization or long-lost artifacts of grand nature were in no way unfamiliar to people well versed in modern media and games. Lost Civilizations were a dime a dozen in stories they were used to.

God’s Nature, being in the fantasy genre, would be the odd one out if it didn't have two or three hidden around the corner. Hell, even the Kalkos Empire could be considered half of one since so much of it was lost during the Woe.

"And, this is key," Peitos said, leaning forward to meet Gaven's eyes. "They, who found these devices, could manipulate them even without having built them or understood them."

Essentially, it was a neanderthal being able to use a Potab. They might have no idea what they picked up, but they could still wear the device and use it in a variety of ways. They might not have the internet, but they could still use it as a flashlight, speaker, map drawer, or any number of other utilities built into the device itself.

One did not need to be a plumber to use the sink. That begged the question, however.

"How?" Gaven asked.

"If we knew the exact mechanics we would have already activated our Arch, and would not need you, would we?" Philia said blandly.

"But we do have a bit of insight," Peitos added genially, trying to lessen the sting of his fellow council member's words. "First, that Archs were operated remotely. From the capital. We believe that the reason the capital was such was because it could control the Archs. And we believe we know its location."

"How so?" Gaven asked.

It wasn't that it was impossible, but the nature of Kalkos Empire meant direct travel through Archs was much easier than transportation over land or sea. This led to very little in the way of connections between said cities in the wake of the Woe, isolating them. Often without any concrete directions to reconnect with those they lost contact with.

To claim to know the location of the most sought after city in the world was a bit too fortuitous.

"Because I have in my possession a traveling journal of a monk dedicated to Herplin,” Peitos smile was teasing as he pulled an old leather-bound book from his pocket and laid it on the table. “Whose pilgrimage to something called the 'Crown of the World' led him from his hometown through Urugalkin and the capital. In it, he mentions stopping at the grand temple which 'stands opposite the Fulcrum, in which dwells the blessed key to the Shortroads.'"

"...Shortroads are what Herplinians called the Archs," Awns explained to Gaven quietly. "Which they believe to be blessings from their god, but devotees would avoid using them during pilgrimages to 'pass where the Trailblazer once tread.'"

“We still mourn their loss today,” Philia muttered, closing her eyes as she said a quick prayer to the god of the road, accompanied by the symbol of the Buckle. “This is why we need the Banukeita Guild. Why I am tolerating this old man," Philia spoke up once more. "We wish to hire you to retrace the steps of this pilgrimage to find the capital. Once there, discover and explore the Fulcrum for any hint on how we might operate the Archs."

Gaven tightened his lips.

"You have a theory and a rough direction," Gaven said. "That is not a lot to go on."

The entire reason Calderine had been the first city 'discovered' was because there was more fertile and safe land to the west. The areas bordering Leidon on the north and south were inhospitable and filled with strong monsters. Everything east had been lost to the sea when the Woe ruptured the continent.

Even now, with players at much higher levels than when they first started, it was still much safer to head to the center of the Westward Path and explore northward and southward from there, rather than directly from either city. While Urugalkin was roughly counted amidst that center region, it did not mean it was safe by any stretch of the imagination.

Not only that, but when someone writes a journal, they usually do not do so for the purpose of leaving behind a step-by-step guide. Someone who followed and worshiped the god of travelers might be better in that regard, but that didn't change the fact that centuries had passed since the Woe and this journal was written before even that.

Who knew how the land had changed in the intervening years or during the catastrophe?

"After leaving Urugalkin, he traveled northwest to Kharak Toul," Philia, far from backing down, laid out the facts. When Gaven was going to point out that rivers changed courses all the time, she dealt the final blow. "To the capital, which he claimed to be set at the source of the river."

Gaven closed his mouth.

Okay, so they had more than just a vague direction. It also answered why they were bringing this forward now. Kharak Toul had only recently been rediscovered thanks to Calderine's expeditions beyond Eerlang. But there was one simple fact that couldn't be ignored.

"To reach Kharak Toul from here means we'll be crossing the central steppe."

There was a reason nobody had succeeded in traveling north for very long and nobody needed to voice it for everyone to understand.

"The centaur tribes are an issue," Peitos agreed. "One you will need to be wary of, but they are not the insurmountable wall you believe them to be. The average level of Players has reached the mid hundreds, if I am not mistaken."

"That will not help us on the steppe," Gaven denied. 

It wasn't that he did not want to take on such a grand quest. It was that, as Guild Master, he had to be very careful about any undertaking involving large swaths of the Banukeita Guild. Early God’s Nature had been filled with players and guilds who believed that they were the protagonists of the game. And they paid for that ego.

Grand expeditions wiped out by a single Rogue. Failed dungeon runs because of poor knowledge. Hundreds of Players starving to death for lack of supply lines. And then, worst of all, a complete guild wipe in an area that was far beyond reach, losing not only months of travel time but all the equipment and material the guild had invested in.

You only became a leading guild by weighing risks and rewards appropriately. Gaven wanted to make the Banukeita the greatest guild. That required knowing what they could do and what they couldn't.

And they couldn't cross the central Steppe.

Yes, centaurs appeared to average in level between one and two hundred, but there were heavy caveats to that information. First off, monster levels were always approximations as God’s Nature was not so convenient as to show levels. It was always guesswork based on who could and couldn't kill them in a one-on-one fight. Secondly, as a monster species with their own societal structure and family groups, if you killed one then the rest would hunt you down. If you killed a tribe, other tribes would hunt you down, even if they were from enemy tribes.

And that was just the centaurs.

The monsters that infested the steppe, the resource scarcity, and harsh environment could all doom a large expedition.

"You do not have to cross the steppe," Peitos' smile was teasing as he answered.

"Are you suggesting we follow Galeio's tracks?" Awns asked, a peculiar look in his eyes.

Everyone blanched.

"Certainly not," Philia denied emphatically and Gaven let out a sigh of relief.

He'd seen the videos and if that had been their suggestion for his guild, he'd have told them to sit on his spear and spin.

Galeio was a player, one of the early ones, who mainly focused on exploration and discovery. His entire Nature was based around doing so safely. By traveling alone, and not attempting to fight, he was able to get to locations larger groups couldn't.

At one point, he believed he'd found a path to bypass the steppe and its dangers. By passing along the eastern edge, where it bordered the Rose Gold Desert, he'd avoided the centaurs to his west and the desert to his east, managing to reach the northeastern edge of the steppe. There he found a large mountain chain.

Mountains that were not supposed to be there.

Every record from before the Woe claimed that northeast of the steppe had been the Kalkos Empire's breadbasket. Huge swaths of fertile land and vibrant forests filled with low level creatures and numerous large cities. Even if centuries had passed and everyone there had been killed in the Woe, it should still be an area that was paradisiacal in comparison to the steppe.

Instead, he found hundreds, perhaps thousands, of mountains.

Or, perhaps, saying the mountains had found him would be more accurate.

Steep mountains. Mountains of stone. Mountains of metal. Mountains of flesh. Mountains of sound. Mountains where up was down and in was out. Mountains whose peaks were far beneath the earth's crust and above the atmosphere. Mountains that took weeks to climb one meter or where one hop took you beyond the clouds.

Mountains where common sense went to die and sanity was the main currency.

Galeio now focused on exploring the south.

The Mountains of Madness, as the explorer named them, bordered the northeast section of the steppe for hundreds of miles. If Kharak Toul did flow from the old capitol, and it was north of the steppe, then passing up and over the border of the steppe's east was, theoretically, a way of reaching it without dealing with the centaurs.

Gaven would much rather deal with the centaurs.

Naked.

With a large red bullseye drawn on his chest.

After drinking poison.

And enough alcohol to drown a dragon.

"No." Peito shook his head. "Instead, like I mentioned, simply retrace the steps of our little monk along Kharak Toul. The centaurs will not be a problem."

"How come?"

"Because Kharak Toul is sacred to them," Philia answered for the old man.

"What makes you believe that?" Awns asked, curious.

"The Kalkos Empire never fully pacified the steppe or the centaurs," Philia explained, tapping the journal with a finger. "Yet our little monk traveled safely along its banks. He even records centaurs watching him yet not engaging even though he was alone."

"There could be a number of reasons for that," Awns pointed out. "Not the least of which they would not wish to fight the empire over a single, worthless, traveler."

"'Und'sday, Cycle of the Craftsman, season of Light Rain," Philia read a passage from the journal. "'The horse-fiends continued to watch me today. With Softfoot’s blessing, that is all they have done. In all things, His teachings are to be followed. 'All is a path. Not all is the path you must travel. Heed what roads are cobbled in stone and turn from the briar.' Even the beasts of the plains and the birds in the sky understand this wisdom, yet man is ever foolish. Four more corpses I espied. A man, a woman, and two children. The horse-fiends, in their manner, strung their bodies to trees facing the river. I pity them, as fellow Blessed, yet I abjure them for stepping beyond the safe road He laid out, though it be cloaked in the horse-fiends' heathen worship of the natural animus.'"

"We have hired other players to test this claim, of course," Peitos added when the Rejicerene finished reading. "This tradition of not killing anyone within a certain range of the river remains strong. So long as you do not step beyond five ylms of the water's edge, they will follow but not attack."

Gaven sat back in his chair.

If... If this were all true, then this quest was possible. Enormously risky, certainly. But possible.

There were other factors that simply could not be accounted for, such as how far Kharak Toul actually flowed, if it had shifted in the Woe, what dwelt in the capital, if the capital survived in any fashion, if this 'Fulcrum' survived, and if it truly did contain a key to being able to activate the Archs. There was also the omnipresent danger of a Rogue, or that the capital had become a dungeon they were too weak to handle, or worse, been assimilated into the Mountains of Madness.

This quest, no matter what information or reassurance, was a massive gamble. Yet they'd gambled on much worse information, and no ambition was without risks.

As Gaven rolled over the thoughts in his head, Awns continued talking, giving him time to think.

"Why are you working together? Does this not violate your traditions?"

"Traditions must be set aside in the face of imminent danger," the Voxun sighed. "We are keeping this meeting a secret to avoid the appearance of impropriety, certainly, but of more import is the knowledge of what we seek being discovered by others."

"No matter how much I dislike Voxun Omeka, should a method to activate the Archs exist, someone will discover it eventually. Leidon must be the one to do so. Should others, such as Calderine, Mathiandi, or worse, the Bank do so, it could prove catastrophic for all involved."

At the mention of the Bank, Gaven made his decision.

"The Banukeita Guild will take this quest," he declared. They looked pleased. Good. "So long as the reward is worth it, that is."

Both council members smiled, yet Awns shot him a look that went ignored.

Gaven's mind was set. The Bank could have its so-called 'El Dorado.' A new silk road would not matter if fast travel became available.

Not the Bank, the Tower, the Troupedoors, or Tengen. It was Banukeita which would lead the players of God’s Nature.

******

From: ‘The Beast’ Season 1 Spoiler Free discussion room 617.

>I have a question.

>Oh boy. Here we go.

>Wait, let’s hear them out first.

>Don’t bother. Anybody who starts with ‘I have a question’ is asking to get reamed… metaphorically or literally.

>’metaphorically.’ Big word there. Sure you know what to do with it?

>Thank you, it is my word of the day.

>What was the question again?

>They haven’t asked it yet.

>The question is this: What’s the big deal with this Neron guy?

>Kaiser.

>Call him Kaiser.

>You really should call him Kaiser.

>What do you mean? Also you should call him Kaiser.

Drat! Others got there first.

>Like, I’ve heard of him before, even if I don’t play God’s Nature. He’s a big deal, some sort of god or something right? He’s in all sorts of stuff and anyone who plays it is really iffy about him. This show, ‘the beast,’ is an origin story, right? So, what’s the big deal? Why should I watch it instead of something else. Because all I’ve seen so far is that this Neron (and I’ll call him what I want. Its his name.) is kind of an asshole. And it’s been boring. And he’s like one of those pre-Dawn nepobabies.

>Kall him Kaiser.

>I bet you’re the type who likes action right away.

>{Removed due to spoilers}

>I mean, The Beast is a good show. The Chronicler and her team know what they’re doing. It starts slow, but that’s kind of the point you know? Can’t say more without spoilers but if it’s action and the like you want, then you’ll have it… and if you have a weak stomach maybe watch it with one of the filters?

>Filters are for wimps

>Do I have to wait six seasons to get to the good stuff? I hate shit where ‘it gets good after 100 episodes.’

>You don’t have to watch it. I’m sure you have other very important, totally relevant, and world changing things to do.

>{Removed due Rule 3: No personal insults}

>{Removed due to spoilers}

>Mods be working overtime Barely two seconds for that one

>Without sarcasm or insults: The Beast is not an action show. It has it (Boy does it have it) but its mostly character stuff. In fact, it will skip ‘action’ entirely if it doesn’t further the story.

>I just wish it didn’t skip ‘action’ *Wink Wink*

>To be fair, the first part is slowest in action. If you ever do play God’s Nature, you’ll know low level combat is kind of basic and not even Kaiser can start destroying the world from level 1.

>If you ever play God’s Nature, call him Kaiser.

>Or don’t. It’ll be funnier that way. So long as you record it and share. {Warning: Encouraging self-harm.}

>...What happens if I call him Neron?

>That would be a spoiler. O_<

>Let’s just say it ain’t pretty.

>What? He’ll kill me?

>Um… No? Again, can’t really say anything without meeting Mod God, but let me put it in perspective for you. There is nothing that scares a follower of Kaiser more than attracting his attention. If you want more specifics than that, you’re going to have to look it up yourself. There are a ton of videos.

>Use a filter.

>Filters are for wimps.

>Nah, the reason I’m here is cause I hate spoilers more than wasting my time.

>If you don’t want to watch it, there is a novelization coming out soon. Supposedly has a bunch of extra stuff the show doesn’t have.

>Really? Like what?

>Non-player perspectives.

>From who?

>{Removed due to spoilers}

>Who’s that? I recognized the Dragon. That’s Jorry right? But the others?

>Won’t say. Most of them show up soon.

>If you don’t play God’s Nature, how do you even know of the Dragon?

>My sister collects the cards. She has a super rare, limited edition Dragon that she won’t shut up about to anyone else who plays. No idea what ‘Omen Stage’ means but it’s a big deal apparently.

>It is. That card is worth a small fortune. And calling Jorry the Dragon is… alright? Technically, I guess. The mods won’t do anything because Jorry explicitly wants to be one but if I get specific I’ll get in trouble for spoilers. Just, The Beast is a muddy story, so don’t think things are that simple.

>Ha! I see what you did there!

>Thank you

>I’m not a big fan of books. Why wouldn’t they show those parts in the show if they’re important.

>All the footage is from the recording of players’ pods they sold or gave to the Chronicler. If no players are around, or the player didn’t give the footage, we do not have video, even if things are important for the story.

>If you don’t like books, and don’t want to watch it, then try Advent of the Beast. The mechanics are fun, and certain parts of the story were cut for gameplay purposes, but you can get the gist and decide if you want to watch The Beast afterward.

>An RPG? Don’t like playing those on my pod. What about those RTSs?

>Don’t!

>Don’t!

>Don’t!

>Geez, why not?

>If you’re worried about spoilers then you should stay far away. Every part of them is a spoiler.

>That and third game sucks.

>It’s not that bad.

>It is. They totally nerfed the Ascended factions.

>They had to. It was practically impossible to win with any other faction in the second on harder difficulties.

>It had other issues too. Like its Native multiplayer. Hard to beat someone who’s literal Job is to be a general or administrator.

>But when you do it is soooooo satisfying.

>{Return to topic. Discussions regarding Délaash: World Woe War can be found HERE}

>I’ll stick around for at least another season. If nothing else, his sisters are hot.

>…Shit.

>Bye.

>Bye.

>See ya.

>I gotta go I left my stove on.

>Nice knowing you, have a good life

>What? They are!

>I have a… thing to get to.

>Bye

>Bye

>I’ll be back in a week.

>I’ll be back in a month.

>I’ll be back when there’s two more weeks of winter!

>What did you say about the Banker?!

>What did you say about the Banker?!

>What did you say about the Banker?!

>What did you say about the Banker?!

>What did you say about the Banker?!

>What did you say about the Banker?!

>What did you say about the Banker?!

>What did you say about the Banker?!

>What did you say about the Banshee?!

>What did you say about the Banshee?!

>What did you say about the Banshee?!

>What did you say about the Banshee?!

>What did you say about the Banshee?!

>What did you say about the Banshee?!

>What did you say about the Banshee?!

>What did you say about the Banshee?!

>Shit, the fanatics are here. Gotta go. See next time… If you survive.