180, 2/2

The White Palace’s true name was actually the White Palace of Eternal Light, and with a name like that, it was as magnificent as Erick expected it to be. The place had the same sort of energy as the Spire back at Ar’Kendrithyst, but while that place was made of clear crystal that reached up higher than all the other clear crystal towers of the Brightwater, this place was very much the ‘White Palace’. While the crystal city skyline in the distance was clear-gold with white striations, this place was almost completely white, and opaque.

Located in the heart of Stratagold, just to the south of the center of the city, the White Palace was the only set of crystal… things for ten kilometers in every direction. Erick was hesitant to call the structures of the palace ‘towers’, for some of them were near horizontal.

A central spire of white crystal ascended from the bright lands below, while another descended from the bright lands above. The stalactite and stalagmite crystals reached for each other, but instead of touching each other, they touched the tops and bottoms of a massive splash of white crystals, kilometers long themselves and half that wide, all bundled together in an arrangement of buildings that made a complete mockery of proper physics. Sideways skyscrapers. Dangling dormitories. Teetering towers.

Actual architecture seemed like an afterthought, and only to make the place work as a palace. It seemed to Erick that the people here had taken a natural treasure and added roads, and planter boxes filled with golden plants, and other such niceties, but only to make the place actually functional. The only thing that stood out as a true secondary creation, tacked onto this place, were the concentric circles of white crystal skyway that surrounded the palace. Like highways in midair, those skyways joined together some of the larger floating pieces of crystal held outside of the main splash, like white rock islands, floating in space. All of the whole White Palace seemed held up by nothing but prayers, or, more likely, a whole lot of runework and magic embedded into the crystal. And, of course, the Underworld’s natural propensity to make large objects float instead of fall.

There was no main ‘central’ crystal tower, but any of the larger crystals amid the grand central splash could have served such a function.

The t-station was positioned on one of the further concentric skyway rings around the place; out of the way, but still more or less in the right area. There were no guards here, just an open arcing skyway, ten meters wide and similarly empty of people.

Erick had taken a long second to see everything, and he knew there was lots more to see than he was currently able, but Tasar was already moving off of the t-station, so he followed.

The path ahead circled the main structures, before running into a crystal that split off a path down toward the center. All along that path there were other people, all in togas. All wrought, of course, and all different metals and species, though the various species did walk next to their own; they seemed to be arriving and going to Bright Tea in groups.

The lack of any sort of soldiery was odd, but the complete lack of visible security was simply impossible. There had to be people hidden under [Fairy House]s, or something, watching everyone walk by… Or perhaps they were just using long range [Scry]s? [Scry]s were more likely, now that Erick thought about it.

With tension in her shoulders, Tasar whispered, “You can have Ophiel go anywhere on the outsides of buildings, but not inside. Yggdrasil can watch from outside, too. [Scry] is spelled against once you pass into the White Crystal itself so all of them will be blind inside, anyway. Many basic viewing spells and a lot more besides are protected against.”

Behind them, the t-station blipped with light and a trio of silver dragonkin stepped off of the platform to sedately follow behind, keeping distance from Erick and Tasar. It was then that Erick realized that Tasar was pacing the people ahead of them, as well. It was part of the ceremony of it all. The only thing that mixed were the voices from the other participants; they were quiet, whispers, but their words still flowed on the air, telling of their days or weeks. They were the words of normal people, catching up with friends they hadn’t seen in a while.

Erick summoned an Ophiel and sent him flying up and away, whispering to Tasar, “Can he land in that golden tree down there? Near the end of the path?”

Tasar looked to the right. She narrowed her eyes, and said, “… Not Arbor Gold. One of the smaller trees is fine, though.”

Erick perked up. “That’s an arbor?”

“Yes. He sleeps, mostly.” Tasar said, “He’s aware of everything happening, though. We’ll pass by so he might speak to you, in which case we will stop and talk. Don’t purposefully wake him with Ophiel, though— Ahh. Other people are noticing, now. That took longer than I thought it would.”

One particular crowd of wrought, three groups ahead, were keeping pace where they were supposed to be, but their happy faces and small waves toward Erick let him know that he had been seen. Erick waved at the people waving at him, making sure not to break stride. The crowd waved back with enthusiasm, then turned back to their little group and began speaking fast and quiet. Not quiet enough, though, for Erick not to hear that they were so glad they decided to come today. They weren’t the only ones to notice Erick, either, but they were the only ones to wave. Everyone else just had a bit of surprise and acknowledgment, and then they moved on.

Ophiel landed in a smaller tree, next to Arbor Gold, and the rather small arbor (only fifty meters tall? Odd) did nothing. The land around the arbor —which seemed like a bit of farmland— and all the other trees were covered in a thin layer of gold leaves that seemed to get everywhere, bringing a little bit of color to the white land. Wroughts in togas crunched through those leaves as they passed by, headed toward their destination inside one of the larger central spires.

With a hint of playfulness in his voice, Erick tried to be as happy as some of the other partygoers as he asked Tasar, “This is a fun ceremony, right?”

Tasar would have blanched if she were a human. Her voice came out ragged, “It will be what it will be.”

Erick kept his paranoia in check as he asked, “What are you not telling me?”

“I don’t know.” Tasar said, “I just feel like something is going to happen. Not sure what. Some surprises. Some… Unexpected event. I was on the Path before, Erick, and this feels bad.”

“… Oh.”

Well…

They passed into a short crystal tower, where the path broke away from the circling skybridge to go in four different directions. There were some offices and people in this area, with rooms carved out of the crystal and staircases leading up and down to what looked to be defensive runic cannon emplacements and other assorted high-powered destructive workings, but mostly, the bridge either continued through another archway to another concentric highway, and also down a path to the center of the White Palace.

They hooked a right and continued toward the Palace.

Erick said, “What’s probably going to happen is that the fae will show up, having demanded some sort of capitulation from Stratagold that allows her to be diplomatic in this area.” Tasar made a face of utter horror, and Erick added, “Or, if that is completely outside of the realm of possibility, as your sudden disgust is telling me, then we’ll have a normal party, and perhaps I’ll get to show off my own glowgem spellwork, making the Gemslicers truly angry with me.”

Tasar lost some of her horror as she scrunched her face, then decided, “We wouldn’t accept the fae’s presence here. She’s been too destructive as the Letter Killer. That’s not going to happen.”

“Ah! But what if she kills that persona? Like a proper [Polymorph] change?”

“… Still no.”

Erick frowned at her, saying, “Your people would do what was necessary to get anti-Apocalypse Fate Magic. I know you would.”

Tasar frowned right back at him. “One doesn’t treat with people who have no intention of holding to their word. I believe you even said this a few times, and quite publicly, too.”

“But then… How did the various bargains to not fight each other happen?” Erick elaborated, “Like how you left the Surface to the Shades? I’ve always assumed there was some leave of territory to the undead lands of the Fractured Citadels in Quintlan, too.”

“You are operating under a misunderstanding, then. It never happened quite so organized.” Tasar said, “Maybe there were some angry roars across the battlefield and some cessation of hostilities because no one wanted to escalate and the people who opted for war got themselves killed, but to my knowledge, we do not treat with threats that have no intention of being less threatening to us, or to others. We just sort of… ended up kicked off the Surface, and no one wanted to go back, because then there would just be more endless war. There can be no bargaining with Darkness, Erick.” After a moment, she added, “The Shades won the Surface, and we got the Underworld. Now though…” Her voice trailed off.

Erick tried to tune his words toward sarcasm, instead of spite, as he said, “Maybe I’m just a lowly mortal who needs to make friends in order to survive, but even I know the value of nations not going to true war over every hostility; the value of words over violence. And Stratagold does have some sort of bargain with the fae; Kromolok seemed like he would be able to get Fate Magic concessions from them because of the Letter Killer’s actions.”

“… Okay. Well.” Tasar said, “When you put it like that, I suppose the only forces that we never bargained with at all were the Shades. In the case of the fae and with Ar’Cosmos… And with the Fractured Citadels… Actually. You’re right. I suppose. We do have bargains all around. Nothing cast in adamantium, or even in gold— Truly just words thrown across a battlefield, if I recall correctly. In which case…” Tasar scowled, saying, “Maybe the fae is here.”

They had reached the furthest scattered leaves of Arbor Gold that had blown all the way up the bridge. The bright leaves crunched underfoot, while the air began to smell of autumn harvests. The path branched out, but Erick and Tasar followed the procession, walking toward where the scattered towers of crystal had been connected by a myriad of pathways. Right at the major intersection between three different towers, in the bright shadows of the White Palace, was Arbor Gold’s planter box. Golden wheat and golden gourds and all sorts of golden plants grew alongside the large, golden tree, almost looking wild in their arrangement, but there was no way this bit of farmed land was wild at all. Ophiel hung out on an apple tree to the side. That tree’s leaves were a duller shade of gold than Arbor Gold, but vibrant gold apples weighed down the branches. The golden apple tree was one such example out of several gold-fruit trees, which included not-peachs, tarips, and beanpods of some sort. The center of the pathway here was clear of leaves, but only because so many people had already cleared the path in their walking of it, and the wind didn’t stir this deep in the White Palace.

Erick asked, “Are the apples good to eat? Or is it all for show?”

Tasar glanced at Erick, then over to the apples. “You want one? They taste rather good, but they’re nothing special. No magical plants here— Well. That is actual-gold skin, but that’s all it is.” She added, “They’ll serve a lot of all of those golden foods at the ceremony, though, if you want an apple tart?”

Erick glanced up at Arbor Gold as they passed under his boughs. The gold guy did not speak, or move, or show his presence at all. So Erick and Tasar kept walking.

“Nah.” Erick said, “I’ll wait for a tart. That sounds lovely.”

They passed into the main area of the White Palace, between three of the largest towering crystal spikes. The interior of the palace, between the majority of towers, was organized into layers, all exposed to each other with a vast amount of air between the ‘buildings’. White crystal had been formed into staircases and platforms and decorative archways in the crystal towers themselves. The path to Bright Tea was not marked off at all, and if Erick had come here himself he would have gotten lost for a little bit, but the crowd of toga-wearing wrought was headed in a single direction, so they were easy to follow. Up and around a main central fountain and around upstairs, they went, then through a large archway and into the left crystal tower, into a hallway.

The White Palace was even prettier inside. Expansive hallways. Bright lights above. Pillars of crystal and staircases of the same. Gold filigree and moldings. This was not a place for business, like so many other locations Erick had been to in the past. This was a place for ceremony, with decorative, and yet somewhat austere architecture.

At the end of the grand hallway was another large archway, twenty meters tall and ringed with crystal carved into the shape of clouds. Beyond, were people. Lots of people.

The congregation proceeded forward into a well-lit ballroom beyond, but as people passed the cloud gate, they began to glow ever so slightly. Coppers gained a green glow to their skin. Silvers turned almost teal with brightness. Iron fluoresced purple. Cobalts turned brighter blue than they already were, but it was the white togas everyone wore that turned the brightest blue. Almost Script Blue. But it was still a faint effect, barely noticeable in the bright white lights of the White Palace. It would likely be more pronounced later, as they exposed whatever glowgem they had hanging up in the room beyond.

And then it was Erick and Tasar’s turn to pass through the cloud gate. Tasar’s black-green body gained a purple and neon green hue, and both her toga and Erick’s shimmered with a faint blue light. Erick almost expected his own skin to fluoresce, but nope! Same color as… always…

The whites of his eyes were fluorescing a bit, and especially his white irises, but that was normal-ish. Probably nothing. The effect wasn’t much of a hindrance to his normal eyesight at all, but mana sense was a good way to view the world, too, so mostly, he ignored the slight blue glow to everything…

No. Wait. The white walls were slightly blue, too. Everything white was glowing blue. Okay. Not just his own eyes, but all the white togas, and all the wrought, and practically everything was faintly glowing. This was likely due to the massive spherical crystal up above that was emitting the blacklight effect.

The spherical crystal was a meter across, and it was the only thing on the ceiling not lit up with visible light, while also being the only thing with visible spellwork surrounding it, protecting it and adjusting the effect of the ultraviolet light. With a bit of mana sense, Erick saw grooves in the ceiling where the whole crystal sphere could be moved into the ceiling, into a protected space beyond the reach of the ballroom.

Which meant that the sphere was highly valuable, or rather, that the blacklight wardlight cast onto the orb was valuable. This meant that Erick should probably not cast a dozen more blacklights into the rest of the room to heighten the glowing effect, like he very much wanted to, just to fuck with the Gemslicers who had made that blacklight.

Probably a bad idea.

The room was easily a few hundred meters across, a hundred meters tall, eight-sided, with a lot of balcony space and upper rooms to all eight sides, with places for people to sit, or to dance, under the light of the glowgem above. About a thousand people were already in the space, in every part of the room, but there was enough space to hold ten thousand.

The line of party goers walked along the side of the room, avoiding all the activity in the center, all the way to the other side, where a dais of raised crystal held several gold crystal thrones of various sizes. The royal family of adamantium orcols were mostly seated upon those thrones. Two of the six seats were vacant, though.

Erick recognized none of the royal family; Sitnakov wasn’t there—

Sitnakov stood out among his friends, or whoever they were, in the center of the ballroom, talking and laughing about something or other. His muscular black metal body glowed a brilliant violet, while his short white kilt, the only thing he wore, glowed faint blue. He wasn’t the only one wearing as small of a toga as he could get away with, for many of his friends went topless, too.

A lot of people were all over the place, in various cliques or group discussions, or milling about the banquet set out; either the organic food banquet, or the other one. Tasar had told Erick about how metal tea cups made of specific metals were set up near the foods, but separate and separated into categories, too. They were for wrought to partake, for actual nourishment, with each type of teacup clearly labeled by its location in the setting, and also by runes inscribed into the filled-in metal center—

People were already noticing Erick, but now they truly saw him. Whispers abounded. Erick noticed a group of golden people of various races, all of them glowing gold, too, begin to move through the ballroom, toward where the entrance line let out, near the royalty.

Erick would be dealing with the royalty before he met with the golds, though.

The royal family was close. Almost here.

The line moved unceasingly forward. The people directly in front of Erick and Tasar stepped away from the wall and moved to stand before the royal family. Erick did not know the royal family, but it was easy enough to judge who sat on which seat, based on what Tasar had told him and what he already knew from other people.

There was the empty seat for Second Prince Sitnakov, then came First Prince Abarnikon, followed by King Alfonin in the largest throne, then Queen Strelkova in the second-largest throne, and finally First Princess Yatzeva. There was one more seat for Third Prince Chernom, but he was dead; killed a few centuries ago in circumstances which Tasar did not elaborate upon. She had spoken a bit about the royal family, telling Erick what he would find here at Bright Tea, but not much beyond generalized etiquette and strict advice to acknowledge Chernom’s chair, but to then put it out of his mind and to focus on the living royalty.

All of them were orcols, so it was rather easy to focus on the living royalty, as they were all drop-dead gorgeous, and all of them wore togas of various styles with gold hems. King Alfonin reminded Erick of some sort of Zeus-figure, with a full beard and full hair, with his lower fangs prominently poking out of his mouth. Queen Strelkova looked like Hera, with a sternness to her that most other people could never match. The prince and princess were of similar looks as their parents, and if it weren’t for the larger chairs, Erick would have had trouble telling the king and queen from the prince and princess. He could certainly tell the difference now, and they did all look a little bit different, but if he had met any of them outside of this venue? Nope!

The royal men wore togas that bared a shoulder, while the women wore their outfits like how Tasar wore hers. It seemed that Sitnakov was the only member of the royal family that had opted to go topless, just letting those great big muscles hang out all over the place.

Fucking hell.

They were all hot.

Erick was rapidly finding himself quite frustrated that ‘no underwear’ was normal attire for this sort of thing. Luckily, he was nervous enough that his body didn’t start to betray him by acting the usual way it acted around beautiful people. And yet, even wearing the togas themselves was close enough to Erick’s pre-Jane days that this whole scenario was already doing a number on—

He put all that out of his mind and followed obvious protocol, watching as the people ahead of him took their place atop a circular metal design on the floor in front of the royal family, bowed, received a nod from King Alfonin and Queen Strelkova, and then moved on.

Erick followed beside Tasar and the two of them went to the same spot.

The eyes of wrought royalty fell upon Erick, having a weight to them that he rarely experienced anymore. He almost wanted to giggle and laugh at it all, but he thankfully refrained.

He bowed. Tasar bowed, too.

He raised. Tasar raised, too.

The King and Queen did not nod. Erick and Tasar were not dismissed; not yet.

Alfonin’s voice was quiet, but it carried across the separating ten meters of space like he was right there, “We are pleased to see you accept our invitation. Welcome, Erick Flatt, to Bright Tea.”

Strelkova spoke next, “We will be speaking privately with you later. Avail yourself of our hospitality at your leisure.” She added, “Welcome to Stratagold, Erick Flatt.”

The prince and princess each added, “Welcome.”

And then all four nodded. Erick was dismissed.

He left the welcoming zone alongside Tasar, feeling light on his feet and lighter of mind. In ten steps he ran right into the bunch of Gold Caste wrought who had been coming straight toward him, each of them with large smiles on their faces. Almost all of the smiles were genuine, too. Erick knew of the golds from his various EIPC preparations, but he only recognized some of the people here from Otaliya’s specific briefings.

And just like that, it was time for business. Erick greeted the ones he knew by name, eliciting a surprised and happy round of bright smiles and some fan-ish gushing.

A particularly animated gold incani man named Zooli, who was on the committee for trading regulation around Stratagold and other assorted allied lands, who would likely be filling the merchant caste inquiry position this time of year, asked for Erick’s plans for the Crystal Forest. In a way that Otaliya had already coached him, but also rather honestly, Erick explained how he would need the use of some stone archmages to cordon off walls and then systematically clean the place of crystal mimics, but after that, actually healing the land would require a lot of rains and soil replenishment. It would take time, mostly.

But besides that, all Erick wanted to do was to open up the land for generalized habitation, perhaps like Nelboor did it, with roaming bands of warriors constantly cleaning the land of larger threats. He did not like the Greensoil Republic’s [Weaken Monsters] methods, but he had yet to see those in action, so maybe he would if he had.

Zooli was happy with that answer, though he did want more specifics, and so Erick gave them to the best of his knowledge.

More than once, though, Erick’s answers boiled down to, “I’m just providing space; I don’t really care what people do with it. I’ll likely fill some sort of overview role that people can submit paperwork to in order to help with the tougher monsters, but I suspect the Adventuring Guild or individual cities will want to guard themselves from the constant threats out there.”

“Yes yes. They will.” Zooli said, “But it’s good that you’re thinking ahead. Too many people try to get into this city-building business without making the proper connections before they get to actually building cities. It’s difficult to extend civilization! To carve a new brightness out of the Darkness on the horizon takes a lot of constant pressure and time.”

A different gold spoke up, “I’m more interested in the continued clearance of the larger monstrous threats, which is the usual power that archmages are expected to have, and to wield…”

The subsequent conversation about ‘keeping a revived Crystal Forest clean of monsters’ took up twenty minutes. It could have gone on a lot longer because they somehow got into the nitty-gritty of [Polymorph] potion prices based on rarity increases, but then Archmage Riivo came over to the group, along with Aisha, the celesteel prognosticator who Erick talked to before meeting Kydyr for the first time. Riivo’s presence changed the questions.

They spoke of plans for [Gate] locations.

This time the conversation was a moving target, involved practically everyone, but only in small portions at a time, with golds coming in first to ask after taxes for [Gate] usage (free if the setup and maintenance isn’t too expensive), and then Aisha asking after locations (whoever wants one and can provide proper security), and then the golds moving away, and some adamantium guy (with a goblin form) who introduced himself as the guard captain, asking after Erick’s expectations of security needs (hopefully as little as possible, but at least a good runic web and a contingent of ten soldiers on site).

The guard captain didn’t like Erick’s answer, and many other people didn’t either, but Erick acknowledged that ‘security’ was a moving target until he actually managed to make the spell, and that brought down the worries in the room. Everyone knew what the normal [Gate] spell looked like, but based on what Erick was discovering, crafting a [Gate] from scratch would likely not cost 500 mana. Erick suspected it would cost a lot more, and then have a smaller cost to maintain. Other people had other ideas.

Erick met with more people, with Riivo at his side introducing him to some, while Tasar stood on the other side and introduced him to anyone of adamantium caste. The reason for that division of naturally assumed duties was cultural, for sure.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, people had stopped filing into the ballroom. Everyone who wanted to arrive, had arrived, and though the place was packed there was still lots of room for more.

Erick continued to talk to whoever crossed his path, speaking either of his experiences on the Worldly Path, to what happened in the cavern with the Darkness, to giving a polite smile whenever someone congratulated him on his boon from Rozeta.

And just like that, two hours passed in the blink of an eye. Erick only noticed the passing of time because Tasar had marked it, and then not three seconds later Queen Strelkova stood from her throne and the room went silent. It was time for the actual ceremony.

Strelkova announced, “Welcome, one and all, to Bright Tea.”

In a single, unified action, every wrought faced the center of the room and held out their right hand, palm up. Erick did the same, for he had already been coached on what would happen. The glowgem in the ceiling glowed brighter, sending ultraviolet light out in strong pulses that caused the wrought to fluoresce in response. Like waves in a rave, the glowgem flickered and flashed out power. And then it brightened further, and stayed bright. Every wrought poured out their own light like they were each in lightform.

Another ripple went out from the glowgem and every person gained a small cup of brightly-glowing tea in their upturned hand, little more than the size of a thimble. The glowgem faded then, constrained by some nearly-invisible spellwork, plunging the wrought into the room almost all the way back to normal colors. The glowgem remained on and everything faintly fluoresced, but it was nothing compared to what had happened in those brief moments of actual power.

Erick had gained a small cup of tea, too. The cup was unenchanted, despite the bright white glow of the steaming waters. There was no spellwork here save for the [Mass Teleport Object] which had put the thing atop his hand. Erick sloshed the cup a little bit, trying to understand what he was seeing. And then he understood. It was just hot water and a bit of Light Essence. Almost completely diluted, too, but still bright enough to look like a drop of sun in a cup. It was obviously ceremonial; Bright Tea was not meant to serve as a source of [Lightwalk], though Erick suspected that the wrought were easily capable of gaining this power if they wanted to. There was probably a separate Bright Tea ceremony for that sort of event.

Maybe they called it ‘Brightest Tea’?

Maybe they even had light dungeons down here? Though probably not, if the Gemslicers hoarded their light-based knowledge. And that was kinda funny. Yggdrasil’s innate [Kaleidoscopic Radiance] would eventually fill his cavern with light slimes that needed to be harvested before they turned into light oozes. With that major, extra source of Light Essence, Erick suspected that Bright Tea in Stratagold might eventually contain a full-strength helping of Light Essence in every cup, and that the cups would be larger, in the coming years.

Queen Strelkova spoke, “We thank thee, Rozeta, for the blessings of this life, and for the good fortune to know what we need to do in this life, unlike so many others. We hope that purpose finds all those who lack, and that good fortune comes to all good people of this world. For the good of all, we [Cleanse] where we must, and we keep ourselves fit for that task, for now, and for forever. [Cleanse].”

As one, every single wrought in the room, and Erick too, cast [Cleanse] centered on themselves. The thick air produced from the cleaning was minimal, for this room was already rather clean. Almost embarrassingly, the thickest air in the room actually seemed to come from Erick himself, but that was probably him just being self-conscious.

Strelkova downed her small cup of tea in one gulp, and then everyone else followed. There wasn’t much in the cup, so Erick had no trouble doing the same. And he had been right; the contents were little more than hot water and a hint of Light Essence.

It tasted of sunshine. It was nice.

A band started playing up above, on one of the balconies. Music flowed into the room and people began moving around, taking their teacups and setting them down in trays where they would no doubt be used at the next Bright Tea, five days hence. There were no servants moving anything around, but there were some event organizers among the crowd making sure things worked out as they were supposed to. It was those event organizers who then grabbed the trays and moved them away.

The second half of Bright Tea began with many people clearing the center of the room, to stand beyond a golden filigree circle thirty meters in diameter. A few people remained in the circle, though, and they called out to one another, jesting in proclamatory challenges to any and all who would come forth, to try their skill at a proper dance. It was practically a show, but it was more a matter of everyone here knowing everyone else, and of the people in the center wanting to show up others in friendly competition.

And somewhere between moving out from the crowd to take center stage, the people had put on underwear. How odd! Erick almost laughed when he mana sensed that, but then he realized that if they were going to truly dance then they likely didn’t want anything flopping around, because that would probably make some distracting slapping noises—

The silver incani man moved, blurring for a moment as he twirled and swayed, making the first real opening movements on the field. When he came back to himself, he called out to a copper woman, asking, “Have you mastered that one yet?”

The woman laughed, a trilling, happy sound, before copying the man exactly, swaying her way across the stage to mirror the man in everything but form. At the end of her own actions, she turned to the man, saying, “You’ll have to try better than that to trip me up!”

And then they started dancing, but to call it that would be to ignore the truth of what one could do if they actually moved as these people moved.

It was a battle without touching. What would have been a deadly punch to the throat became caresses of metal skin at the last moment, touching upon a shoulder and then moving on. Kicks that could decapitate were instead grabbed by the one so attacked, and the kicker gently tossed away, using the movement to spiral into the air and come back down on one foot, with the other leg curled up behind them and their back so arched they almost touched their own foot to their own head.

And then the whole dance reversed in roles and action, and the other one ended on a back-curling tip-toeing stance. All the while the band up on the balcony kept a steady, quick beat to their music, helping the dancers time their movements.

The silver man and copper woman showed off only the first of five such public bouts, each between different people, and each more physically demanding and more interesting than the last. Erick got the distinct impression that he was only seeing the latest incarnations of friendly feuds centuries in the making.

After the fifth dance, there was one more.

Sitnakov strolled away from his friends, heading into the center of the dance floor, challenging, “A dance with a prince! Anyone strong enough! Limber enough! Fast enough to come forth—”

“I see the prince requires another lesson in just how far he has yet to go!” A bright red incani woman strode out from the edge of the field, venturing away from her own friends, some of which happened to be the other strong dancers who had been on right before Sitnakov. Erick got the impression she was a teacher of some sort. “This humble instructor accepts the responsibility of teaching you proper movement!”

Sitnakov smiled wide, saying, “I humbly accept your tutelage, Rubikia.”

Sitnakov was half again the size of the woman, but Rubikia wasn’t worried at all. If Erick was reading it right, Sitnakov was deeply worried that he had pulled in a larger fish than he could handle—

Rubikia moved, rushing forward, starting the dance fight with an instant chop of her left hand against Sitnakov’s right hand that he had just left hanging out there for some reason; maybe he hadn’t expected Rubikia’s speed. Her attack became a pulling motion, using the back of her own hand to grab at his and send him careening forward, while Rubikia continued in her own forward direction, her left hand now attempting to take off Sitnakov’s head. Sitnakov recovered, flowing into a sudden limbo-ish maneuver, avoiding the strike to then twist up and out of the attack, flowing into a backhanded attack of his own.

Sitnakov’s hand brushed against Rubikia’s back. If it had been a real attack Rubikia would have been sent flying, or her back broken, but instead, Rubikia used the pressure to soar away, where she then curled into a ball and twisted right out of it, to land back on her feet. A perfect 10 landing by any judge’s standards.

It would not be the last time one of them sent the other flying.

Even though Rubikia had to weigh an eighth of Sitnakov’s weight, she was no less strong for it.

Punches, kicks. Twists and flips. It could have been a thousand times more deadly than it was, but Sitnakov and Rubikia were immortals at the height of their power, for the wrought did not wane with age; they just grew more experienced. They danced a dance that would have killed any mortal attempting it, either from the too-hard touches that sometimes sent sparks flying when metal hands touched metal flesh, or from a non-wrought dancer not knowing how to do the dance itself, which seemed made up on the spot, but also made up of a thousand previous lessons that no one ever saw except in private—

Sitnakov twirled through the air, his kilt flipping up to reveal a loincloth, and landed in a mirror of how Rubikia had landed before, but when his feet touched the ground he accidentally dug in, scraping the crystal floor, causing the entire room to try not to wince at the noise. Sitnakov just chuckled.

Ruibikia chuckled, too, saying, “Less parties, more training, Prince. You should have landed that one.”

“I accept your advice; thank you for it.”

And then Rubikia limbered up a bit and put her body into the same non-ready stance that Sitnakov had had at the beginning of the dance. It was her turn to play his part.

Sitnakov went for it, shooting forward and using the back of his left hand to guide/yank Rubikia forward. She executed his fumbled first steps much nicer than he had. Going under his attack (which she made look perfectly easy, which was both due to her size and her experience) Rubikia flicked her hand and sent Sitnakov across the field, launching him in such a way that could have easily broken a person’s back. Sitnakov curled into a ball just like Rubikia had in that first exchange and twisted out of it just like her, to land daintily, and ready for the continuation of the dance. He did not fumble that landing.

Their bout proceeded as it had already, but with roles reversed and Rubikia pulling off every single one of Sitnakov’s maneuvers with perfect grace, turning what had been a battle in all senses of the words except in effect, into a beautiful dance.

At the end, Rubikia sailed through the air due to Sitnakov’s final throw and landed on her feet, without making a sound. No crunching crystal floor for her. Sitnakov bowed to the red wrought woman, and Rubikia bowed to her black metal prince.

They left the floor, each heading back to their own people.

Sitnakov might not have won, but he had been magnificent to watch. And, fuck him, but he knew what that kilt of his did when he twirled too fast, too. Erick was absolutely sure that there were other people in the crowd that were happy to witness the physical beauty and all the rest, just as much as they were happy to see the physical display of power. Erick was firmly in both camps there, for sure.

Rubikia was pretty damned hot, too.

So many hot people, everywhere—

Erick was thoroughly impressed that people could incorporate so many backflips and fingertip dancing into their normal routine; Stats helped people do strange things with their bodies, for sure—

The starter events were done, apparently, as the band shifted to another song, a bit slower and more musical. Less made for punching and kicking, and more made for multi-person dancing, for a lot of other people took the field, all at once, and began organizing themselves into some sort of choreographed number, and yet the field was empty of a lot of space—

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“The show offs are done, so…” Tasar whispered to Erick, “Care for a dance?”

Erick glanced at Tasar. She looked hopeful, but reserved, and ready for a ‘No’.

Heck no! That looked like a lot of fun!

Erick held out a hand, saying, “I would be delighted for a dance, but only if we’re not doing anything nearly that dangerous or precise.”

Tasar brightened with an easy smile and took his hand, pulling him out into the field, saying, “Just follow along.”

Erick took his place next to Tasar at an edge of the thirty-ish people out on the field. She raised her hands in a certain way to match everyone else already on the floor, and Erick copied. Soon, the floor was full, and some drums began to beat out the end of the start of the song, getting everyone ready for—

And then they were off!

Erick took a fraction of a second to understand what he needed to do, and then he did it.

Twirling and shimmying back and forth on the white crystal floor, Erick danced around Tasar, who then danced around him, just as all the other partnered people were doing all around. Erick only needed several missteps to finally catch up to Tasar’s centuries of practice.

It was nice. Friendly. And then the partners came together. He put one hand on Tasar’s waist like he was supposed to, and she put a hand on his shoulder, as their other hands gripped each other and they spun around the white crystal, following in the footsteps of those who came before, while other people followed Erick and Tasar, and the whole group turned into a circle with one partner on the inside and another on the outside.

With a twirl and a hand off, everyone moved one place to their left and Erick briefly danced with a handsome iron human with a beautiful smile, and then he switched back to Tasar. Another handoff had him with a gold dragonkin woman who Erick had already talked with before now, so it was fun to dance with her here and now. She seemed to enjoy it, too.

And then he was back with Tasar and the whole pattern changed; the circle shifted into a star pattern, and then back to a circle, before changing into a square-shaped dance form, before coming back to the never ending circle again. He danced with a blue harpy woman and a petite celesteel man, before coming back to Tasar. He smiled as the music’s pace and the dance quickened. He followed Tasar as demanded by the dance, and then he led the way when it was his turn to pull her forward.

It was a dance of shifting power and presence, and though Erick had a few missteps here and there, his Stats more than made up for the nuance of it all. He held onto Tasar’s bright black and green hands, and smiled at her own joy of just existing.

Erick was glad for the breezy togas; it was getting warm in here.

And it was nice.

Erick smiled and gently laughed, and he wasn’t the only one. People in the audience clapped along in good time, keeping the dancers on track, happy to participate even if they weren’t on the floor themselves. Tasar seemed to be having a good time, too—

The music suddenly cut and Erick kept going for another half step, but the song was over and every single clapping person on the sidelines clapped loud and proud at the fantastic dance, while the dancers began bowing to each other. Erick followed suit, bowing to Tasar and then their neighbors as she did the same. With a bare five seconds between the music ending and then starting up again, Erick rushed off the dance floor, laughing with Tasar as other people rushed in; it was time for other people to have a go.

Erick went to the food and the drinks for the first time of the day, with Tasar close by his side. He said to her, “That was wonderful. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Thank you for accepting!” Tasar seemed to have a deep joy in her heart, and a perpetual smile on her face, as she exclaimed, “I didn’t know you could move that well! You should get a better partner for the more intricate dances later and try one of them. I can’t do the later dances at all.”

Erick laughed loudly, saying, “That wasn’t one of the more strenuous dances?”

“Oh my no.” Tasar said, “That’s the one for us casters. The muscle-brained warriors take the field later to show off all they can do. The music gets a lot faster. But I bet you could do it! You caught on quick!”

Erick smiled as he grabbed a little golden apple tart from the open banquet, saying, “Maybe I will.”

The tart was near-divine. The golden apple cider was delicious, too.

And then people started coming up to him, chatting him up about this or that, and when he could, Erick went back to the banquet. He had to try the fried meat pastries and some of the candies on display, and he was glad he did; they were fantastic.

Eventually, Kromolok showed, shining bright white in a toga of the same. “Greetings, Erick. Glad to see you enjoying yourself.”

“Glad to see you here, too.” Erick was half joking as he asked, “Got any news about the current problems?”

Tasar almost sighed, resigned to getting back to business. She was happy that the fae hadn’t shown, but now, it seemed that something else might be happening.

But Kromolok quickly laid those worries to rest, saying, “Nothing that bears mentioning at this time.” He added, “But after today’s Bright Tea I ask that you stick around for a little while, for the King and Queen wish to have small words. I’ll be there as well, and Riivo plans to attend. Until then, thank you for all that you’ve done for the world, Erick. The Church of Rozeta appreciates your efforts against the Dark.”

Only some small politics, then.

Erick gave a small nod, saying, “Glad to help.”

A few people in the audience were a bit startled by Erick’s ‘glad to help’, as though he had made a social error of some sort, but Kromolok simply gave a tiny smirk as he nodded deeply in turn, and then he left, back through the crowd.

And thus, the floodgates opened. People came to Erick and thanked him for any number of things. First was Zooli, the gold incani, who spoke of how the golds were glad to make his formal acquaintance. Then came Riivo, who spoke of Erick’s accomplishments with the various threats around Stratagold, lurking in the shadows until Erick’s light shone down upon them. More people showed who Erick had never met, but who wanted to meet him and thank him for killing some monster or containing a threat in this or that location. They told Erick of how their sponsored cities were better off now that Erick had helped out, for they simply couldn’t help with all the problems of mortals, and Erick’s help was greatly appreciated. Apparently, a lot of these people were directly connected to the cities out there, mostly through appointed barons.

Erick would have spoken to more of them, but the music revved up and the clapping of the dancers’ audience got loud. He excused himself from his small gathered group to see what was happening on the dance floor. He was glad he did; it was time to witness the warrior dances.

The warriors had taken the field, dancing this way and that, and Sitnakov was on the floor alongside thirty other well-muscled or superbly lithe men and women. Gods, was it annoying how beautiful that asshole Sitnakov looked out there in just his kilt. He twirled and stomped along with all his cohort in a supreme display of physical acumen, with every single one of the people, no matter their species, moving in unison. The single goblin in the group, of pale green copper caste, was perhaps the most impressive, for he kept up with the human-sized people, and even with the orcols. He moved around like a puppet on a string in order to keep up with everyone else. No one was overtly using magic, either, so that was definitely pure skill out there on display.

And the audience loved it. They clapped right along in time to the music, and to the rhythmic stomping of forty-four pairs of feet slamming into the crystal all at the same time, over and over. The dancers danced, getting low to the ground and kicking out this way and that, but then they flipped onto their hands for a moment between synchronized twirls that sent togas spinning. Sitnakov’s kilt spun up, too, revealing his loincloth again, and Erick just chuckled. He wasn’t the only one out there to spin fast enough to expose himself, though almost all the people out there wore underwear. But besides that, the titillation was purposeful; Erick wasn’t the only one taking a minor joy out of seeing dancers in peak physical condition show off the goods.

Seeing Sitnakov and all the rest of them out there, having fun, almost made Erick forget the threats the man had made to him and Jane and to everyone else Erick knew and loved. And yet… It seemed like those threats were truly just to get a fight out of him. The man loved fighting.

Sitnakov was just like that, Erick supposed.