148, 1/2

The ring of Holorulo’s clan mountains stood dominant upon the land; the largest geological feature of anything for a thousand kilometers in any direction. From far away, they looked like squat white pillars decked in gold.

It was all a bit gaudy, if Erick was being honest. Golden pagodas adorned each clan mountain like gold coins stacked high. Smaller golden accents adorned the sides of those white pillars, here and there, giving glimpses into the living spaces beyond. The space between the mountains was a ceremonial land of overlarge buildings in the same color schemes, and it was all way too gaudy.

And also rather desolate.

Millions of people lived in Holorulo, with most of them living inside the clan mountains and some living outside on the rural land below, but Erick had trouble seeing any people who didn’t want to be seen.

Well.

He didn’t have trouble. His mana sense had gotten decently better since his experience with that soul spear. Erick’s range still wasn’t what it had been, but he was up to 45 meters. And with that range, he could see the servant passageways down below this top level, where the golden pagodas of the clan mountain reached high into the sky, atop a land of white.

Erick and his team left their appointed pagoda behind, and stepped out onto a land of quiet excess.

Wind gently blew across chimes that hung from the corners of curled roofs, while small bridges connected each pagoda’s land to each other, and gentle streams of water burbled around the artificial mountain plateau. There was an artificial lake off-center of the clan mountaintop, where fish congregated, and noble children fed them while under the watchful eyes of their guardians; mostly guards, though maybe that one person was a noble, for they had dressed the part.

Erick’s own clothes were a set of his own making, using threads from his daughter. All of the clothes the four of them wore were those that he had made, himself. While everyone else’s clothes were in colors except for red, Erick was back to wearing white. Ophiel sat upon his shoulder, in his normal, winged and eyed form. Yggdrasil’s [Scry] eye sat on his other shoulder, simply watching.

But there wasn’t a whole lot to see.

The buildings were gold and ostentatious, and the entire land was an immense work of beauty and a showcase of power. But as for the people? Erick didn’t know much about them. All he truly knew is that almost the entire population stayed hidden at all times. Only the nobles and their people walked out in the open, upon this pristine land.

And it was pristine. A lot of people had spent a lot of time getting this place back into shape.

A year ago, Erick would have faulted the people here for forcing laborers into repairing their grand structures when so many people had recently experienced personal loss, but magic was a thing, and Erick knew better. Repairing this place was probably as arduous as holding active a [Mend Structure Aura] and flying around using a different aura. The only hard thing to replace in a location like this would have been the spellworks here and there, and indeed, many of those were still down. Erick saw wardlights missing everywhere he looked; metal sconces devoid of their usual golden fire. Half of the lights that were still active were out of position, glowing outside of their appropriate sconces. This was likely due to those wardlights either getting pushed out of position by large magics, or by their sconces getting destroyed out from underneath them.

There was no one to fault over anything, here. Everyone wanted to get back to normalcy, and so, people had worked toward that goal; the commoners most of all.

While most of the casualties suffered in the recent war were suffered by nobility, with every single clan losing between half, and in some cases, 95% of their people, the nobility still controlled much of the resource distribution, mainly in the transportation of goods to inner-city markets. Because of that, food was vanishing from markets all around the Highlands. The commoners were picking up the slack and making their own connections to each other and to distant markets, of course, but the system in place had been disrupted, with many moving parts simply missing in action. Everyone was having a difficult time, but when the nobility was happy, then the commoners were happy.

Or at least that’s what Erick overheard through Ophiel, repeated here and there, mostly by the commoners. He also heard a lot of problems regarding the lack of good food.

The nobility still had decent food, though.

‘Decent’. Not ‘great’.

Terror Peaks had targeted Alaralti hard, killing much of the usual food distribution at its source.

While Erick and his people walked toward the appointed meeting, Erick thought, and watched the land around him. Half of his sight was given over to Ophiel, to watch him fly everywhere, and look at everything from a higher perspective.

The Void Wall around Holorulo was almost up again, but that didn’t matter right now, as there were no Singers to sing in Holorulo. Terror Peaks had targeted the Void Temples hard. Even with all of the Singers’ defenses, and denials of magic, they still couldn’t stop high-tier spellwork that well. Eralis and Alaralti still had Singers, but the public wasn’t allowed in Holorulo anyway, so that mattered less than those other two locations.

The natives to this land could trust each other to not harm each other with spellwork, but they did not trust the unruly barbarian tribes to adhere to the same rules. It was always a culture clash when the barbarians came to town, and adventurers from overoceans were the worst of them all!

Eralis needed to get their Void Song up and running, though, but the other two could do without for a little while. There were problems to getting that done, though.

The Alluvial District of Eralis, which included many of the people who would be rebuilding that Void Wall, was still heavily damaged.

Star Song’s clan mountain was mostly intact, but the mountain right next door that belonged to their branch family of Diligent Scribe was half gone. The potion houses of both clans were wiped off the face of Veird. Terror Peaks had targeted Diligent Scribe rather hard, for Diligent Scribe’s participation in the creation of chelation theory. The schoolhouses of Eralis would be hurting for a while, as many of those teachers had been targeted, too, in an effort to prevent the ideals of Songli from spreading to kids.

A lot of tragedies like that had happened while Erick wasn’t watching. He still felt small every time he found out another event had happened outside of his sight.

Luckily, though, the four Alchemists who got Intelligence survived without a scratch, and even managed to rescue Tadashi, but Wabi, Tadashi’s brother, was killed in the battle. Tadashi was alive, but injured. He pulled through. He was missing his lower legs, but he was naturally healing.

Xue apparently had a great showing as a Blood Mage. He tainted red soldiers with fast-acting disease that he then triggered, draining afflicted soldiers of Health. Without the protection of Health, the Blood Mage exploded those soldiers into fine mists, which spread that disease upon other red soldiers.

Erick wondered how Tadashi and Xue were doing. He had spoken to both, but not very much. They were both hurting after losing their loved ones; Tadashi’s brother and Xue’s wife.

Erick sighed.

Then he put on a stronger face, and strode forward, across a wide, white bridge, to stand before his destination. The golden pagoda stretched upward, looking like it was ten stories tall, but there were only five levels inside.

Ten soldiers in white armor with white spears lined both sides of the five-step staircase leading inward, to an archway. Their gazes and chests had been turned toward the exterior world until Erick came close. Then they all looked to him, the sounds of their boots and the butts of their spears stomping upon the staircase as they turned, as a single unit, to face the new person in their presence.

Scion Caina stood at the stop of the staircase, in the open archway, wearing official white armor with gold accents to denote her station as a Scion. Her father had survived the war; Caina was still a Scion. Her brother, Ored, was dead, though. She would have to learn how to be a future matriarch without her brother to lean on.

She seemed lost, but she was able to hide most of that.

Erick stepped to the bottom of the stairs, and looked up.

Caina looked down.

A world of protocol separated them.

Caina seemed to find her lines, as she said, “Greetings, Archmage Erick Flatt.”

Erick said, “Greetings, Scion Caina Small Scare. I thank you for the invitation to this land.”

Caina paused, as though judging her own actions, and then, deeming them acceptable, she stepped backward, into the building, saying, “Please come inside. We have much to discuss.” She said to the soldiers, “Rest.”

The ten soldiers on the steps, who had been standing at attention, relaxed as a unit, turning away to face the exterior once again, the sound of their stomping feet and spear butts striking stone the loudest sound at the moment.

Erick walked up the stairs. His people followed.

Caina led the way across a mostly empty golden room, to a double grand staircase that curled upward, in a double helix. The only furniture in this large first floor were scattered tables that would be suitable for any large social gathering, but which held nothing of note.

Erick followed Caina up to the second floor, which was much the same as the first, except for a few crucial differences. The tables up here held a few scattered maps, while nearly thirty people were hard at work discussing and deciding various needs, and how to implement those decisions across the whole of the Highlands. Several people were actively relaying those decisions to others, outside the room; the proof of that evident in the dozen tendrils of thought swirling around their heads.

Though Erick knew most everyone here, by virtue of his open ears and myriad of senses, and the Intelligence needed to piece it all together, five of the people in this room mattered more to Songli than the rest.

Matriarch Lingxing Void Song, a demi, with white skin and violet eyes, who wore the lush golden robes of a Singer.

Matriarch Tipanri Severing Crescent, a dragonkin, with white scales and red eyes, who wore conservative golden robes. She had small white horns, which was different than most dragonkin in the world, but which was common to half of the dragonkin of the Highlands.

Patriarch Hangzi Devouring Nightmare, a demi of white skin, hair, and horns, who wore golden robes in a warrior’s cut.

Sister Kaffi, who was not the pale skinned, red eyed demi woman she appeared to be. She was likely the most dangerous one here, but that was just a guess. Erick had no real idea of her true capabilities, and though he had seen most of the other people in this room here and there, for some reason or another, he still guessed that Sister Kaffi was still the most dangerous person here.

… Those people in the corners, doing nothing, might be more dangerous. Erick recognized one of them as the gold fire woman, and another as the black ooze man.

And then there was Elder Arilitilo, the purple skinned woman who saved Erick’s life, and who allowed him to get back in the fight against Terror Peaks. She looked ragged, but well dressed, and terribly proper. Apparently, those soul spears had been used on lots of people. Most didn’t survive, but half of those who did survive had been treated by Ari. She’d been outed as a Soul Mage, and now she had to deal with the consequences, which apparently meant a higher station and more work. She was still a part of Star Song, though, as far as Erick knew.

Erick suspected only the heads of the High Clans were going to speak to him, though, for as he ascended the stairs, Lingxing, Tipanri, and Hangzi, were already standing together, beside a single table, waiting for him to fully appear.

The room had been a susurrus of small sounds until Erick ascended, but now, as he stepped forward, all was silent.

The heads of the High Clans faced Erick.

Hangzi stepped forward, and bowed, going for the full 90 degree deference. Lingxing and Tipanri followed his example, the cuffs of their robes dragging on the ground at their action. And then, as one, everyone else in the room took a knee. Some went all the way to the ground, kowtowing. The gold fire woman kowtowed. Caina kowtowed.

Erick had an emotional reaction, but he kept up decorum. He wouldn’t debase these people’s culture by asking them to raise their heads, either. This was a big deal for them. Massive.

A moment passed in silence.

Then Ophiel chirped three times in happy violins, and that broke the spell.

Hangzi, Lingxing, and Tipanri rose first, followed by the rest of the people in the room.

Hangzi stepped forward, and said, “The Songli Highlands thanks Archmage Erick Flatt for his service in this trying time, for the surety of attempting a peaceful resolution, and for the actions taken when peace was no longer an option. You have proven yourself an ally to this land, and we will always welcome you.” He stepped back.

Tipanri stepped forward. “The Songli Highlands will be a long time recovering from the ignoble attacks perpetrated by Terror Peaks, but it is thanks to you that we have cut short their planned trials of terror. It is thanks to you that Alaralti is able to restore much of the provisions of grain and otherwise which Terror Peaks tried to eliminate. The Highlands will always welcome you.” She stepped back.

Lingxing stepped forward. “The Songli Highlands would welcome you as a member of our land, if you didn’t already have obligations elsewhere. But if ever you should change your mind, please consider this land that you have helped to save. You’ve already done so much for us, so we would like to do whatever we can for you. Is there anything you wish for that we could provide?” She did not step back; she waited for an answer.

A moment passed, with Erick unable to speak for the lump in his throat. And then a second moment passed, and the lump lessened.

Erick had an answer for Lingxing, so he gave it, “I wish to ensure that proper chelation is refined to the point where it can be administered without risk of death. I wish for something kind and generous to be done with the remaining people of Terror Peaks, because there are still children over there, and they are just children… Even if some of them have proven to be as violent as the adults. And I wish for proper answers as to why this war happened at all, and where those soul spears came from. Terror Peaks was heavily prepared to desecrate proper war protocols, with many allies willing to follow them to their deaths, but none of the people I captured have given satisfactory answers as to why they enacted this war.”

As he spoke, Erick watched the reactions of those in the room, but the only major reaction he saw was one of quiet contemplation. There might have been a few people with guarded looks, but as for what was beyond those guarded looks, Erick could not say.

Lingxing, maybe because she was the eldest here and because she was the one to ask, answered, “Chelation will be created; of that there is no doubt. The children and elders of Terror Peaks will be accounted for, but as for what that accounting will look like, only Phagar knows that future. We had tried carers and missionaries for those children who refused to [Teleport] to Songli, but those missions failed when those children killed our missionaries. We are trying a new plan of dropping off supplies for known groups of kids, which seems to be working for now, but there will undoubtedly be changes with that plan as our understanding of the problem improves.

“But we will not leave the true threat of Terror Peaks to regrow, ever again, so, unfortunately, some hard lines might need to be taken for some extreme cases.

“For Terror Peaks will regrow if we allow half-measures. They were zealots, all of them. The reasons for this war might be what we have told you already, Erick, but which we are not sure you have heard: Terror Peaks was becoming socially unstable. In enacting war with us, they sought to cull themselves to a more manageable population, and to drag the rest of Nelboor to war with us, if they could. This war was an opportunity for them to better control their own people, but when they struck at us, and you were here as well, they struck at two dragons when they meant to strike at one.

“Nelboor and Veird is better off for them being scoured so thoroughly. We are all better off for the justice that your own Imaging has allowed Songli to enact across our little part of the world, and we will not allow such opportunity to disappear.

“As for the soul spears: We have some of these soul spears, as they were used against us as well as they were used against you. We seek to discover where these came from, as well. Whatever might have happened, Patriarch Xangu escaped to the Underworld with the answers we all desire to have. We have already sent enforcers to find the man, but the Underworld is vast. We can only hope they find Xangu before he resurfaces with a second army at his back.”

Erick took in her words, and he diplomatically said, “I thank you for your words, and look forward to accompanying actions. And you are right; I do not accept that answer for this war. But I will talk to you in private about this, if I may.”

Lingxing graciously said, “We will always appreciate your company. Call on Void Song in your darkest days, or in your brightest joys, and we will be there.”

Tipanri said, “Severing Crescent will always welcome you into our halls, either here in Holorulo, or in our residences and fields of Alaralti.”

Hangzi said, “Devouring Nightmare recognizes Archmage Erick Flatt as a valued friend. We three High Clans would like to call upon you and yours for a private dinner in a few days, here in Holorulo, where we can discuss details of minor and major importance to the realm.”

Erick said, “I accept your invitation.” He said, “I was in the middle of… Something, when I collapsed. Is there anything that you would wish for me to continue? I believe I was raining on some lands of Alaralti.”

Tipanri smiled softly, then said, “You have been of great help, but we are past the worst of it. We can take it from here, Archmage Flatt.”

Erick got the distinct impression that he was being dismissed. So he took the offered out, and after a nod from him and a returning nod from Lingxing, Tipanri, and Hangzi, he turned around and headed back down the ramp. Behind him, people started talking to each other once again, though some of those in that room never stopped; they had just kept it quiet with their words being those of the telepathic kind.

Also! Erick didn’t buy for one second that Terror Peaks had done this war as an extension of a ‘population control’ thing.

That was just too far-fetched, but it was an idea that seemed to be gaining traction. None of the higher-ups had openly spouted that claim until just now. Until Lingxing’s words in that room, the only ones to really speak of that horrific reasoning had been the underlings, and some middle-manager types here and there.

Lotta loremasters claimed that Terror Peaks used this war to control the population of its citizens, though, so maybe that’s where this line of thinking was coming from. It didn’t make much sense to Erick.

Anyway.

It was time to go back to bed. Time to take another nap.

On the way out, crossing the bridge back to his rooms, he asked, “Do you guys believe that this was a ‘population control’ thing?”

Teressa said, “The majority of the red army expected to get away, I think, so Lingxing’s words were… True, but only in a certain sense.”

Poi hummed, noncommittal but also disappointed in some way.

Jane said, “But they knew dad could find them. Didn’t they?”

Poi spoke up, “That’s easy to explain. They were delusional. They believed what they wanted to believe. They didn’t believe what they had been told that Erick could do.”

“But a whole society that believed incorrectly?” Erick asked.

And the second he asked, he thought of climate change deniers and the people in power who empowered those incorrect beliefs.

Poi added to Erick’s little revelation, saying, “You’re asking me to distill the movements of an entire society down to a series of easy-to-understand events.”

“Okay. Well. Yes; that question was unfair of me.”

“I can do it, though.” Poi said, “This war was because the people in charge made it happen.”

Teressa laughed, once; it was not a happy laugh. Erick shared her sentiment. Jane just frowned.

Erick said, “There’s probably a dozen reasons for war, and the people in charge of Terror Peaks probably used all of them to get this to happen, as well as twisting truths into lies. But maybe someday, someone will write a history book about this and I can find out all about it, then. Rozeta gives out points for history books, right?”

Teressa’s face bunched up.

Poi said, “Yes. But that’s a whole thing.”

Erick waved him off, “I’m tired right now. We can talk about that later.”

Jane asked, “Are you going to write down anything? A primary source for those historians?”

“… Oh.” Erick said, “Maybe I should.”

– – – –

Erick did not write.

He remade the spellwork around the room, and then crashed and didn’t wake up for dinner.

In his dreams, he was a butcher, and the meat was people.

– – – –

Erick woke drenched in sweat and breathing hard. Ophiel twittered on the headboard, his many eyes looking down at Erick, as his body softly glowed like a nightlight in the darkened room. Erick sighed, blinking long. Then he sat up and gazed across the room, to the other nightlight; the water clock sitting in the corner. The clock was an ostentatious work of swirling metal, with two pools for water, several connected chambers that were out of sight, and a [Gravity Ward] that kept the water moving properly. Erick liked the simpler ones, but this one looked like it kept good time.

Daylight was hours away, but he was awake now.

A [Cleanse] got rid of the smell of his night sweat, but not the wetness. Erick got up and left the damp behind, and then he discarded his shirt and pants, and just stood there, naked, allowing himself to air dry, taking his time to get redressed. He looked down at his stomach, and noticed that he had lost more weight. With a glance through Ophiel’s eyes, he saw himself.

Ah. He was pretty damn skinny at the moment.

He was starting to like how he looked, but that was before Shadow’s Feast… Before all this shit. He wasn’t muscular like he had been when he was Jane’s age, but he was getting there. Stats seemed to help guide the body into certain shapes, but if you didn’t work and grow into your Strength, usually through exercise and fighting of some sort, then that Strength didn’t really show.

Erick had let himself get skinny, and it had happened when he wasn’t watching. This last week of bad food had drained him, but it had only been the latest in a long line of improper self care.

Ha. ‘Self care’. When there was a war on. What sort of messed up outlook was that? There were people out there right now that could use any care at all, and here he was—

Erick went to his clothes and put on something simple, and then he glanced around through the light, and with his mana sense, to see who was awake. No one was awake. Poi and Teressa were asleep in their rooms. Jane was asleep on the couch in the living room, having passed out while reading.

Erick worked through the paranoia that rapidly came with witnessing such a situation. Four days ago, he had also seen everyone in the household asleep at the same time. He had almost had a meltdown at being the only one awake. He didn’t wake anyone back then, either. He just checked them to ensure they were okay.

A subtle [Cleanse] on everyone didn’t disturb their sleep, via erasing the poisons that could have put them to sleep. No one had any magic active on them that wasn’t supposed to be there. Ophiels were watching over everyone and Ophiel seemed perfectly at ease. The spellwork defenses had never been breached.

Everyone was perfectly fine.

Erick worked through his paranoia, and discarded it.

Then he went into the living room, passing by sleeping Jane, and then to the kitchen. It was a tiny kitchen, meant more for the convenience of the guards and servants of the people staying in the room, than for the actual person of interest staying here. There was still room enough to cook something, though. But what to make? Mmm…

Oh! And since it was so early!

Ohh!

Erick decided he wanted deep fried donuts.

Or. No! Cronuts. And with magic, it would be easy to laminate the butter into the dough. He had tried once, and failed, but he could try again. Ohhhh! This was going to be good. Erick smiled, and started fishing out some supplies from the cold stora—

Erick collapsed to his knees, then laid himself out upon the cold floor, tears streaming.

There weren’t any supplies to make donuts.

– – – –

Jane startled awake when something made noise in the kitchen. She glanced over through the shadows—

Jane bolted upright and rushed over, softly saying, “Dad. Dad. What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” She touched his shoulder as he sobbed, and then he seemed to realize there was another person there, so he shut down his sobbing. And then he looked up, and saw Jane.

Her father blinked out tears, and pushed away, getting up as he said, “I’m good. It’s—” He snorted a laugh, and gestured at the cold box like it had offended him. “There’s no—” He turned away, saying, “I’m fine. I was just having a moment.”

Jane let him have his moment, but her heart ached to see him like this. So she asked, “Did you come in here for dinner? I had them make you some fried boneless chicken and rice and that sauce I heard you liked.” She went to the storage, and yup, her father’s dinner was still sitting down there under [Cold Preservation Ward]s. Not much else was in there, though; some wines, some smaller desserts— “Oh. Did you want to make breakfast?”

Erick sobbed once, but said nothing. He was still facing away.

“Hard to get anything around here without talking to a servant first.” Jane went to him and hugged him from behind. His bones unexpectedly poked her when she laid her head upon his shoulder. She adjusted, and tried a light joke, “You can’t be skipping meals, dad. You’re wasting away to skin and bones.”

Her father cried at that, and Jane had no idea why.

And then Jane felt water in her own eyes, and a terrible hole opened up in her own heart. She cried a little, too. She couldn’t really help him through this. All she could do was be there for him. She said, “I’m sorry.”

Erick kept turned away.

After minutes, her father stopped sobbing. Jane had already stopped a while ago.

Jane let him go, and stepped back, asking, “What did you want for breakfast?”

Erick breathed in, deep, and sighed. He turned to her, red-faced, and with a sad smile. “I just wanted to make some cronuts.”

Jane laughed once, loud, then again, softer. Erick smiled.

Jane said, “Well we need a fuck-ton more stuff than what’s in that larder, don’t we.”

Erick shook his head, saying, “I’ll have some of that chicken and rice, first, though. It looks good.”

“It was good!” Jane said, “They got some good cooks here. Probably Cooks, and all of them with Perfect Meal, too.” She tapped him on the chest, saying, “And the last time you tried to make those funky donuts you started a fire!”

Erick laughed. “That was back on Earth! I haven’t tried to make any desserts that complicated here on Veird. Not yet, anyway.”

Jane gestured to the left of the door to their suite, saying, “We got appointed servants just that way, and down a hidden staircase. They’ll get you anything you want.”

Erick wiped his face and cast a [Cleanse], then said, “I think I shall.”

Jane went to the larder again, and pulled out Erick’s dinner, saying, “Then I’ll heat this up for you.”

Erick smiled as he walked out of the kitchen, saying, “Thank you.”

“Love you, dad.”

“I love you, too.”

Jane watched her father head toward the door. While he did that, she placed his dishes on the living room table, under a [Heat Ward]. And then she waited for him to come back.

A minute wait turned to two.

Oh gods. Could he have run away?

Jane felt a spike of panic and went to go find—

Her father came walking up the stairs that lead into the clan mountain, waving to the people down below, saying, “No need to rush yourself, but thank you.”

The four people down below, each of them wearing very nice peasant clothing, were bowing to him with equal parts reverence and fear. Jane supposed that was okay. With a twist of light, her father activated the mechanics of the stairwell, and shut it behind him, waving one last time.

Jane smirked, saying, “Your food is hot.”

“Oh yeah. Thank you.” Erick said, “They just wanted to thank me a bit more than I was ready for.”

“You deserve to be thanked, but what about your cronut ingredients?”

Erick happily announced, “We’ll have supplies in the hour. But for now, that fried chicken and rice.”

Jane smiled.

– – – –

The supplies for the cronuts arrived within the hour, a bit before sunup, just in time for Erick to get to work. Making dough was easy enough; he had been making it from scratch with dried yeast packets, wrapped in paper, since his second month of Veird. Making sweet dough was as easy as adding sugar and a few other ingredients. When that was done, he allowed the dough to proof once, getting some of the rest of his supplies ready in the meantime, then he went back to the dough to turn it into pastry.

Kiri had made pastry dough once, and the girls at ‘And Dessert!’ had some good pastry selections, but mostly, pastries were not a normal thing. Erick had only done this once before, but that had not turned out well. This time would be better.

Erick rolled out the dough into a nice square, then layered cold butter on the square, keeping everything nice and chilled inside a [Cold Ward]. Dough folded over dough, then hard light rolled it out again. Erick turned the dough, added more butter, and folded it over itself, into the center, then rolled it out again. He turned the dough, folded without extra butter this time, and rolled it out again.

He rolled out the dough until it was a 2 centimeter thickness sheet, about 60 centimeters by 60 centimeters wide. Then he left it in the [Cold Ward], and went to the oil.

A [Heat Ward] went around the vat of cooking oil to kickstart the heat, while a twist of the knob on the stove turned on [Prestidigitation] flames, to lick at the bottom of the vat to bring it up to proper frying temperature.

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On the other side of the kitchen, Erick had a sugar and cinnamon station ready for the hot cronuts. He was surprised that cinnamon was available here, but apparently Lingxing liked all of Erick’s inventions, and all of them were growing here and there in various gardens and such, with some more popular than others. Cinnamon was slightly popular, but nowhere near the level of tarip or the various fruits that people usually used to flavor their desserts.

As the first rays of morning sunlight streamed in from the eastern windows, brightening the rooms with golden light, Erick cut the first cronut out of the pastry sheet, and dumped the first donut into the hot oil. It sizzled up and filled the air with the smell of baked goods.

And then it fell apart, the layers stripped from each other—

“No no no!” Erick said, “Shit! How the fuck—”

He fished out the separated cronut from the bubbling oil.

“Oh.” Erick looked to his cronuts. “You need to proof again, outside of the cold.” Erick canceled the [Cold Ward] and turned off the [Heat Ward] on the oil, but he left the stove at a low simmer. “You can stay a little hot, while I cut out these guys.”

Erick cut out all the cronuts he wanted, and then he sliced up the remains into appropriately sized pieces. All of those went onto metal trays to wait in the warmth of the room, to proof again.

Half an hour later, the sun was up and the pastry had doubled in size. They looked much better after another proofing, and this time, when they went into the oil, they fluffed up; perfect.

The hot pastries all went for a cinnamon sugar coating, but only half of them got glazed.

Erick held one in front of him, imagining how good it was. And then he took a bite.

Crunchy! Chewy! Flaky, too! It was fried bread and sugar and cinnamon; what was not to like?

According to the rest of the judges, they were pretty great, just as he knew they would be.

Jane ate her third one, saying, “Pretty good, dad.”

Teressa was on her fifth, saying, “These are great.”

“That’s a lot of sugar.” Poi said, “You always have way too much sugar in your breakfast foods, Erick. I enjoy some cactus syrup on my pancakes as well as the next guy, but this? This is pure sugar.”

“Don’t forget the butter and oil, Poi,” Teressa said.

Erick laughed. “And that’s what makes it breakfast!”

Erick had the flashing realization that he shouldn’t be having fun right now. He should be sorry for the people he killed. He should be working with Ophiel to fix the problems out there. How could he have wasted precious hours to make these stupid fucking cronuts? He could have been out there, saving more lives! Healing more people with Ophiel!

And then the problems of vulnerability seeped into the forefront.

He had been thinking a lot about the vulnerability of all of that. To solve this, he could turn himself to light and make himself small like Ophiel, and hunker down with [Animadversion], while Ophiel went out and expanded to full sunform, to touch people with [Greater Treat Wounds] as he moved and helped to restore buildings. Erick could be growing more crops for people, right this minute.

But—

Ah. Fuck.

Yggdrasil…

Yggdrasil couldn’t make himself small. A soul spear attack on Ophiel would be a soul spear attack on Yggdrasil as well. Dammit.

Well. He could still help people the hard way.

But instead he was eating a breakfast that had taken him three hours to make.

The pastry felt like nothing inside his mouth, but he chewed and swallowed anyway, as he tried to make the dark thoughts go away.

He knew enough about what was happening to recognize the symptoms of PTSD; he had helped some veterans get through some of this stuff back home, though admittedly, he mostly helped those people by moving them on to other social workers who could help them better than Erick could.

Erick grabbed one of the donut holes, and ate half of it, as he listened to the conversation happening all around him, and tried not to think about how everyone here could be dead at any random time. Someone could just [Teleport] in nearby and [Ward Destruction] all of his defenses and…

For the first time, Erick thought that Melemizargo’s [Teleport Lock] was a good idea.

[Teleport] should not be in the Open Script.

If only the monsters weren’t so dangerous, and the people weren’t so distant from each other, and society wasn’t so fragile, and…