198, 2/2

On the northeast side of Candlepoint, there was a similar, but smaller, mountain of white eternal stonewood waiting to be Shaped into something more cathedral-like. Justine waited near that mountain, along with a handful of other clergy and people of Candlepoint. Mephistopheles and Slip were present, along with a few paper shapers from city hall, and guards from the guard. Every single one of them jumped to attention in their own ways as Erick’s lightning portal opened up a mere twenty meters away.

Erick had already had a few long talks with Justine about what was going to happen here, and she had already participated in approving the model made by O’Lark. That model, of course, had some missing pieces that were going to be supplied by the shadelings here; primarily Mephistopheles.

Who was the leader of the Cult.

He had not been the leader of the Cult of Melemizargo when he had revealed his Cultist tendencies back at that first meeting, over a week ago. But word had gotten around that the Cult was going mainstream, and so the various Cultists in town had crowned Mephistopheles their leader. But really now. He had probably been their leader all along.

Erick just let that happen, since nothing much had come of it.

At no point in time had any interactions between Mephistopheles and Erick changed, for Mephistopheles kept that Cult stuff under wraps. Here and now, though, it was time for something more serious, and ceremonial. And so, the cultist robes came out.

Mephistopheles wore black robes befitting a Priest of Melemizargo. A few of his compatriots wore the same. This was a test of Erick, actually, now that Erick looked it over. Would he let this happen? The answer was yes.

Contrasting him, Justine wore robes of silver and white. Her people mirrored her, though they wore more white than silver; they were believers in other gods besides Koyabez, the God of Peace and the Silver Star.

Erick stood tall, and regarded everyone present.

He spotted the grey stone model of the cathedral O’Lark had gifted Justine, sitting off to the side, and also the rougher-made additions done in black stone, no doubt added by Mephistopheles. It was fine. Or, at least it would be fine.

Hopefully.

Erick laid down the law, “This is likely going to get dangerous, for a full Interfaith Church has not been done since the very, very early years of the Script. All of those locations have long since been destroyed by myriads of different forces, or desecrated and enshrined by one side or the other. Every attempt to have a full Church results in the same destruction, either by Melemizargo, or Rozeta, any of the other gods we call upon today, and also their followers.

“There is a long bloody history here, and we are attempting to fly in the face of that history. To show something better can be made. Melemizargo seems less and less insane by the day, so maybe this will actually work this time, but he’s gone through various phases of lucidity before.” Erick said, “This is dangerous. Don’t forget that.

“But hope has always been dangerous.

“We hope for a better world tomorrow than the one we experience today. We hope, now, for our children to grow up not afraid of the dark, and for those raised in the dark to not be afraid of the light. We guard our hearts and yet extend our hands anyway, in the hopes that our hands are not burned in the offering. That we can lift each other up to better heights, and stronger, more stable tomorrows.

“It’ll be many, many years before anyone accepts Melemizargo as reformed, but if he’s willing to put in the work, then maybe all the people of the world may one day refer to him by a name that has all but been scrubbed from history; The Welcoming Dark.”

Erick ignored the small tears of joy, and of buried anger in the eyes of the shadelings, and in the eyes of those who were no longer shadelings. There were emotions on both sides, not that both sides were equal at all in what they had done wrong. He ignored the buried hate in Sitnakov’s gaze, and in the eyes of those who tried to stand well out of sight at the far, far edges of the land which had been cleared for the cathedral.

And Erick decided he didn’t need to listen to anyone else.

He had planned for Justine to say some words, and for Mephistopheles to say some more. But.

NOPE!

Erick began Shaping—

The crowd turned as the white mountain began to shift.

Immediately, Erick noticed a change. Magic flowed from his body like a brief burst of thick air, washing across the to-be-cathedral, soaking into the white wood and sending up sparks of Benevolent lightning. Those sparks grew and grew, and in a flashing instant, the mountain moved.

Spires ripped up from the white mountain like an explosion of crystal, forming towers flanked by arches and filled with spaces for massive stained glass windows. One central spire expanded left and right, forming hallways and a circling ring out back, where the gods would have their individual altars—

A land of black grew in the middle of those altar spaces, expanding outward, pushing aside and widening the original design into something larger, and more Dark. Melemizargo’s space became three times the size of any other gods—

Simultaneously, the central nave came into being, and became a vaulted ceiling fifty meters tall while the transepts and the main altar flashed into existence, and the exterior became something gothic and intricate.

A wave of power flashed out from Melemizargo’s altar in the back, breaking all of Erick’s control, and yet the building kept building—

Golden flames washed out from what had to be Koyabez’s altar space, followed instantly by divine fire expanding out of Rozeta’s nook. Gold fought with black for the briefest of moments…

And then black relented.

It was not a wrestling of power as Erick had thought it would be. It was a give and take. The Darkness backed off here. Koyabez advanced there. Rozeta’s divine fire filled out this land over here. The various altars in back turned slightly more uniform, each one growing to match Melemizargo’s addition, and yet, Melemizargo kept his altar slightly larger, constantly…

Eventually, the gods stopped fighting.

Melemizargo got his larger altar space, which was like a small cathedral inside the larger cathedral, while all the gods moved on.

And the construction expanded. The main cathedral burrowed into the ground, forming lower floors, while the upper floors created themselves, or rather, some god did. The whole white cathedral was awash in golden fire, but each flame was slightly different. Erick could barely tell which magic belonged to which god, but he thought he saw Atunir in the construction of a vineyard on the lands beside the cathedral, while storm-tossed power created a fountain on the other side. An arena clashed into existence behind the building, perhaps the work of Sumtir, the god of righteous war, while the gates to a graveyard and central pyrestone appeared way over there, beside a now-apparent mausoleum.

Everywhere Erick looked, he saw the white eternal stonewood grow and expand, forming side buildings and housing halls and everything else that normally went with a church. He had not accounted for those additions, for he was only going to make the cathedral itself out of eternal stonewood.

But the gods had other ideas.

One god in particular had an idea that Erick wasn’t sure he liked, or not.

Melemizargo did not like everyone else creating without him. From his altar came lines of black, filling in the grout of the tiled floor, running down the baseboards of the hallways, edging out here and there in every place he could find.

Perhaps, most oddly, the gods let this happen. They pulled back their divine fire as the shadows came forward, holding to their own altars, watching the shadows crawl by. And the shadows didn’t try to enter those altars, either. That was perhaps the most odd thing; there had been no fight over territory.

Just an expansion, and an allowance for others to move as they were wont.

Over the course of thirty four seconds, which might not have been accurate for Erick was rather distracted that the magic had pulled away from him and been taken over by gods, the cathedral and the surrounding lands came into being. Stained-glass windows appeared, in all the rainbows of the myriad gods, but also with a tinge of black Darkness, even though there had been no glass in this Shaping. The vineyard flushed out with thick vines and deeply purple grapes, even though there had been no [Grow] in this Shaping. A small golden fire lit upon the center of the pyrestone in the graveyard, even though there had been no flames before. Rozeta’s library, where the clergy would keep books she had approved for extra points, filled with those books. A thousand other smaller touches of divine gold and dark black completed the magic here and there.

And then it was done.

Crafting his House had taken Erick the better part of the sunlight hours of the day, only finishing around four in the afternoon. He had expected this smaller project to take about two hours, and for some crisis to interrupt those hours.

… But then again, he was doing something rather religious right now. Usually, when one worked under the auspices of a god, those gods helped the petitioner to make their magic. Erick had even experienced this twice before, with the creation of Yggdrasil, and of the Crystal Star with his Blessing of Empathy. In less direct ways, this is what happened when he sang to the mana, and the mana responded.

Perhaps it was simply the severity of the divine actions here, in this moment, that got Erick thinking about such nuances of magic; as they tore away his spellwork and used it to their own ends. This was what clerics and other assorted worshiping people often reported when they spoke of the touch of the divine. Erick didn’t expect such an event to happen right now, but upon reflection, if nothing else happened, then this was a good outcome.

The building settled.

It was a white cathedral with black accents in the floor, in windows, and in the arcing roofs.

Erick was not the only surprised person in the audience.

Sitnakov went, “Huh.”

Justine rapidly decided to take hold of the situation, raising her arms to the sky, saying, “We thank the gods in all their glory, for this chance you are taking on us, and on The Dark One.” She lowered her arms, and turned to Mephistopheles. A change came over her, like a spring pouring up from bare sand. Divine fire tainted her soul as she spoke with multitude of menacing voices, “Do you accept the burden of cooperation? Of true coexistence? Or is this to be yet another trick to tear us all apart and drown our last world in your dark lies, Melemizargo?”

Mephistopheles’ eyes flickered brightest white, as the edges of his red skin incani body turned darker, casting him into shadows, filling him with power. The voice that came out of the man was not Mephistopheles’s voice.

“It is to be cooperation. My Cult that remains loyal will no longer pursue their usual goals of disruption, but we will still pursue our goals of true education. This world might be real, but it is still so very unstable. The next one will be better.”

“Will you assist us with dismantling those in your power who will not follow this public edict?”

“You would not like what would happen if I do that, for once all the current problems are solved then I will need to challenge this world in other ways, for light will turn to shades of brightness if left unchecked, and you are all unchecked.” Mephistopheles as Melemizargo turned to Erick, saying, “And the world looks to be getting a lot brighter.”

Justine stood tall, regarding Melemizargo, and said, “We disagree. But we will not fight about it today. Instead, we will protect this church, and you will do the same. It will be a physical covenant of our pact of cooperation.”

“Agreed.”

Divine fire ripped out and away from Justine, leaving her cold and vulnerable.

Darkness pulled away from Mephistopheles, leaving him smaller than before.

And then all that power settled into the cathedral, where it vanished into the altar rooms in the back, and into the eternal stonewood that made up the building.

“A covenant, then,” Justine said, though she was almost too weak to stand.

“A covenant,” Mephistopheles agreed. Bent over and with a hand to his knee, he was barely doing better than Justine.

Justine nodded, then turned to Erick. “The gods wish to talk to you, as you are able, Wizard.”

Mephistopheles forced himself to stand straight, then said to Erick, “The Darkness approves of your benevolence, and wishes you luck.” He said to Justine, “See that? ‘Wishes for luck’ instead of ‘to talk’. He’s a lot less demanding than your lot.”

“He’s also caused nearly all of the greatest tragedies this world has ever seen, so this wish is a lot less innocuous than you believe it—” Justine cut herself off. “I’m not fighting right now, Mephistopheles.” She said to Erick, “Our Apparent King, we are grateful for your magics, and for your benevolence on this afternoon. Please join us for a grand feast to commemorate the day’s construction. Everyone is invited, but you would be the guest of honor.”

The audience tensed, though not a single person in power was worried about Erick joining them for a party. They wanted Erick there.

Erick happily said, “I’d love a good feast. This is probably the best possible outcome, too, so it’s time to celebrate!”

The audience didn’t know what to do about that. But they would adjust.

Justine said, “We are pleased with your acceptance. Ever since our recent economic reorganization we’ve been feeding people every day in our food halls…” She smiled brightly. “But the gods are good, and the people who have needed our services have found their own sustenance, created by their own hands, and now, we have excess. We can have a real feast tonight, and everything will be alright.”

And it was.

Upon tables set in the front yard of the cathedral, Justine presided over a grand feast of thanks to the gods, in all their glory, and also to Melemizargo, though that second part was said much smaller than the first. There were smaller speeches by other people of the clergy, with Erick only really paying attention to the speakers for Rozeta and Phagar. Apparently, Rozeta’s library was open for all to read, and Erick kinda wanted to read some of the defining literature of Veird; a lot of it was actually fiction, which was a surprise. Phagar’s speaker directly called for an End to hostilities, and in a private aside to Erick, said that Phagar was waiting for him to ask about Time Magic.

So that was something to do, soon enough.

Many people whom Erick rarely saw attended the feast, and it was good to see them again.

Aside from some merchants and farmers, and other assorted people whom Erick never got a chance to interact with, the minotaurs showed up in numbers. Their appointed leader, Danarin, gave another small speech of thanks to Erick, that mirrored the one he gave months and months ago, at the start of the Worldly Path.

After that speech the burly man was much more personable, happily sitting with Erick to talk about everything that had happened to the minotaurs. Erick confessed that he had been worried about them since they did not partake much in city hall, nor did they ask for help with anything. As far as Erick could see, they participated in all the normal stuff that people do, like going to markets and buying from vendors, but they also did a lot of their own stuff. They were a bit insular.

Danarin smiled at that, saying that they strove to be self-sufficient. They were all Ar’Kendrithyst level adventurers before they were turned by Hollowsaur, after all. Erick was glad to see that Danarin and the other minotaurs had thrived under all this hardship, and he was even more surprised to see that Danarin had a wife now, who was also a minotaur. Danarin’s wife was a similarly bronzed but more curvy minotaur, who was maybe a week or two pregnant.

She already had absolutely massive breasts, though, and Erick could not help but wonder what that was all about. For a brief moment, Erick was worried about things such as ethical body modifications and soul work—

But then Danarin caught Erick looking and wiggled his eyebrows, saying, “She’s been such a great big blessing in my life, I sometimes think I’ve been blessed twice!”

Erick stared for a moment, then suddenly laughed, saying, “Congratulations on the kid, too! That’s a third blessing for you.”

Danarin paled. “Uh?” He looked to his wife. “Lilaria?”

Lilaria gave a coy smile, saying, “I wasn’t sure because I haven’t visited the doctor— But… I missed my period. Yeah. I guess I am?” She looked to Erick, and actually managed to hold his gaze for a moment.

Erick nodded. “I’m pretty sure, yeah.”

Two tables over, Teressa nodded.

Danarin, however, saw none of the other small nods that went around the gathering. He briefly went limp, and then he recovered. He smiled wide and happy, then rushed his wife and picked her up, spinning her around as Lilaria giggled happily. Danarin called out, “We’re going to be parents!”

Lilaria said, “You’re gonna be a daddy!”

“I’m gonna be a dad!”

Congratulations erupted from the crowd.

It was a good feast, with many small joys all around.

Erick was glad.

This whole ‘city building thing’ seemed to be working out.

As he sat back in his chair, there on that main table, Erick looked out at this small gathering of his people…

And he was happy.

Meetings with Mephistopheles and Justine and all the rest had been taking less and less time, as they got closer to being on the same page. The city was actually back up and running, and Ava, ever the barometer of luxury and ease that she was, was back to wearing a different fancy dress every single day. Zaraanka’s businesses were a fraction of what they had been, and almost all her contacts with the outside world had been cut, but her connection to Princess Weilux of the Wasteland Kingdoms remained open, and she was rebuilding. Zaraanka still couldn’t meet Erick’s eyes 75% of the time, but outside of his sight, she was working harder than almost everyone else to get back what she had lost, and to gain so, so much more. Valok was as taciturn as ever, almost like he had been with Erick when Erick first met the man on what would become the Farms of Spur, which was fine. Valok did meet Erick’s gaze, though, and he spoke openly when necessary, but that was about it. Whatever friendship Erick had with that man was gone.

But it would simply take time to rebuild.

And this was good.

Tomorrow, Erick imagined he could actually move onto other main projects. The city was healing, and would eventually be growing. The wrought district and the first part of the Gate Network was starting to receive various diplomats from the other Geodes, who were on their way to Ar’Kendrithyst. Erick was starting to receive resumes from Kirginatharp, the wrought of Stratagold (maybe the other geodes would follow? One could hope!), and the Mind Mages. He had even received a surprise missive in the form of a package of letters stuffed full of flowers and fae magic, listing out possible associates from Ar’Cosmos for him to induct into his House.

And now that he actually had his House, he could finally start building House Benevolence.

– – – –

“The main goals I have right now are to support and secure the Gate Network I have begun to create through book keeping and record tracking, with another major focus on security of all kinds. Most of the major powers will be allowed to maintain security of their own Gate sets, but I still need people to oversee those lands, and to check on those numbers coming out of those places, like the numbers coming out of Stratagold.

“Right now I have a small folder of numbers regarding what has come through Stratagold’s Gates, but I know that that folder is going to become a whole office, one day soon. I expect the same to happen from every single other four-Gate land I connect to in the future. I expect Songli to eventually calm down enough to talk to me once again, and to accept a four-Gate, and maybe Eidolon on the other side of the Letri Ocean will do the same, though I have never talked to any of those people on Nergal.

“Smaller Gate sites, which might happen here and there in the future, will need to be overseen by someone as well. I imagine that a portal from here to some future settlement in some part of the Crystal Forest will need to be a part of a network of such smaller sites, and be overseen by some generalized Gate overseer.

“Or something. I’m open to adjusting as needed.

“Longer goals include diplomacy with various nations in order to set up more Gates of all kinds, and in ensuring that longstanding enemies don’t treat this land as a way to invade others, or to start wars of any sort. I expect the people I hire to be able to speak with my voice in all of these situations, since I cannot be everywhere at once. What such actions look like, directly, is still up in the air, but it will probably involve Ophiel sitting on your shoulders for the first few meetings between important peoples, or whatever might happen, and then letting you take over from there.

“My current, personal goal, is to offload all this accumulating paperwork and organization onto other people who are responsible enough to shoulder those responsibilities. It’s a tall order, but it must be done, for I am creating something here that will hopefully outlast my own existence for many, many millennia. Eventually, I hope to teach others how to [Gate], so that they can take over some of these functions, but that is something best saved for ten years down the line.” Erick said, “Which is why you are here. You came highly recommended by Kirginatharp for the position of castellan, the overseer of my House Benevolence, and based on your resume and recommendation alone, you have the job… After some magics of mine, which you have already requested of me, and which would be necessary for you to actually fulfill the duties requested of you.

“But I have to know why you chose this path.”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

In his offices at the top of House Benevolence, Erick held his first meeting.

Across the table from him sat an ancient greyscale dragonkin by the name of Zolan Goldbranch. He was an Oceanside native, and he was old. His eyes were rheumy and clouded, and he sat in his chair with a bend in his back, his joints knobbled with arthritis that could not be healed away. Healing magics could only do so much against the degradation of age, and Zolan was old by every single standard, except when held against the standards of immortals.

He was a hundred and thirty four years old, and he had run Kirginatharp’s estates for 85 of those years, only stopping fifteen years ago, which was ten years after he could no longer read printed words. He still had a good mana sense, though, which was now at a range of 20 meters, which had given him ten more years of time back then. But now, there was nothing he could do to stop the ravages of age.

And Erick was his only hope for a new life.

Zolan just sat there for a long moment, considering his words. The old man’s copperscale great-grandson stood behind him, a Paladin by the name of Zorik, striking an imposing figure with a barrel chest and thick legs, dressed in shining silver armor. He was a great contrast to Zolan. Erick imagined that Zolan had once looked like that, long ago, and yet here he was, now deflated by age.

And Zolan was angry at that personal failure. He was angry at the passage of time itself, or some other ephemeral concept he could not battle, no matter who he knew, or what powers those friends of his wielded.

Erick waited.

Zolan spoke with a quiet voice, “The Headmaster cleared your [Reincarnation] as capable of true soul healing only days after you transformed those dober dogs. Now, those dogs have another life ahead of them. I want the same.” With as powerful a voice as he could muster, Zolan said, “I am not ready to go into the embrace of the gods, not when everything is going to change right as I’m about to die. I had made peace… as much as I could, but then you came along. I have to see the coming worlds for myself, Wizard Flatt. I have to see it.”

Honest.

Driven.

Erick wanted to hire him on the spot. But…

“Why not go the [Polymorph] route?”

The great grandson briefly looked uncomfortable—

Zolan chastised the boy, “He’s talking about pretending to be another person. Not eating someone! Gah. How far the family has fallen out of magical traditions.” Zolan said to Erick, “I’ve never been good at lying about myself, to myself. I know who I am. It’s made certain things harder for me, magically speaking. I can’t do illusions. I can’t do transformations or enchanting. But I can do bureaucracy. You want to know how much money you’re making, and where the problems are, and to then know that I’ve already solved all those problems I can solve? I can do that. Or do you wish to know the numbers every day, and how they grow, and only to be informed if a real problem should arise? I can do that. I can make the ledgers of any business sing gold, and I know every single nation and many of the smaller powers out there, for Oceanside has been a magical and educational center of the world for a very long time, and I was at that center.”

“How do you feel about Ar’Cosmos?”

Zolan rapidly answered, “Terrorists and thieves, but if they’re truly sectioned off into their own slice of reality, then maybe that will change.”

“You’ll be working with them.”

“And I’ll make sure they’re not fucking you over in subtle, insidious ways, just as I would do against Stratagold, and Songli, and all the rest. So you’re aware: I consider most people to be decent, but nations are silver thieves and golden terrorists, because most nations have to be that in order to survive. The presence of actual powers adjusts certain metrics, of course.” Zolan said, “I believe you’re too trusting a good ten times over, but that’s been working out for you. For now. You can be the hope for the future, winning wars and ensuring overall security of your domain, but the rest of us gotta eat and make our own small homes in that domain, weathering the larger forces out there, and that is what I do. I deal with the minutiae and keep the silver thieves and golden terrorists at bay so that the heroes can go out and be heroes.”

Erick said, “I’m too trusting, eh.”