“As far as I can tell, it’s largely accurate,” the dracid says. He taps his claw on a few cities at the south end of Valenia. “I think these cities might be incorrect. But it was rare our scouts encountered foreign ships, so our knowledge of the area is also limited. And the Jorrians do mostly trade with Dunmora, so it could be an honest mistake.”
“What about the cities farther north?” I ask. “They only put three on the map.”
Torim shrugs. “I don’t know many cities in the northern hemisphere either. I couldn’t confirm or deny.”
“We’ll be fleshing out our maps soon enough,” Mirzayael remarks. “We passed more islands earlier today.”
My stomach flutters in anticipation. “Are we ready?”
Torim and Mirzayael exchange a thoughtful look.
“The guards are falling into a routine,” Mirzayael says. “They’re as ready for outsiders as they can be, given the little time we’ve had to train them.”
“We’ve started to transition our water stores over to the tanks,” Torim adds. “I don’t know that we will have enough to support many visitors, but food is the more pressing issue.”
“Hopefully resolved once we have access to land,” I say. “Have any of the scouts reported seeing the coast, yet?”
Mirzayael shakes her head. “Though I think it shouldn’t be long, now.”
What will they be like, I wonder? The Jorrians and Fyrethians are both such hard, stoic people. Was it the environment that made them that way, or is much of the rest of the world similarly suspicious and isolated?
There’s so many unknown variables to try to prepare for.
A knock comes at the door.
“Enter,” Mirzayael calls.
Nek steps inside. “Forgive me for interrupting,” he says. His gaze shifts over to me. “I don’t know if now is a good time, but…”
“Spit it out,” Mirzayael says.
Nek dips his head apologetically. “You wanted me to report if there have been any deaths. An elderly dwarf from the Frostone family just passed.”
My heart sinks. “I’m so sorry. Please pass on our condolences.”
“Actually,” Mirzayael says, “we should give them in person.” Mentally, she adds to me, “We should speak with them about using the Dungeon Core to dispose of the body.”
My heart sinks even lower. I knew this day would come, but I hadn’t been prepared for it to arrive so soon. I don’t even know how I could ask.
“I can do the talking,” Mirzayael offers, catching my hesitation.
“Alright,” I say, not liking any of it. But I’ve already agreed to this; I can’t back out now. I turn to Nek. “Would you be able to ask when is a good time for us to visit?”
“Of course,” he says. “I’ll return shortly.”
I continue to watch the door even after he’s left. Mirzayael puts a light hand on my shoulder. “Even you can’t stop death.”
“I know.” I lean against her side. Her shell is cool and soothing against my shoulder.
The rest of the morning passes in an ever-present flurry of things in need of fixing: some of the crops aren’t doing well, so we need to try changing the composition of the soil. Dizzi manages to explode a set of fireworks in the lab without killing anyone. The kitchen crew and the water purification team are having a disagreement on how much water can be used for the celebration. Ollie pops in to show me a pretty shell he found on an island we passed over.
The shell itself was too small for Ollie to carry, but Meritis was happy to show it off for him. The pair brought back extra for the Dungeon Core to eat, and it excitedly did so, snapping up the shells like potato chips.
Eventually, the time comes for us to visit the Frostone family.
“Is there appropriate attire we should wear?” I ask Mirzayael as we head to our quarters to freshen up first. “Where I’m from, wearing black was common in such circumstances.”
“Do you have a black set of clothing?” she asks me.
“Well, no,” I admit.
She chuckles.
“That was just an example!” I object. “I wasn’t sure what the customs around death are like here.”
“Your normal clothes are fine,” she assures me. “I’ll meet you back here in a moment.”
Even so, when Mirzayael returns, she’s no longer wearing her armor, instead simply dressed in street attire; or the closest approximation she has to that. Her clothes are practical, form fitting, and plain. She still manages to look quite striking. The silver and tan of her clothes stand out starkly against the black of her shell, which shines as if it’s been polished. My bright, fiery plumage feels like such absurd contrast next to her.
“I suspect our death customs will be changing,” Mirzayael says to me, picking up where we left off as we head to meet up with Nek. “Previously we would hold a ceremony and bury the dead in the moss fields, allowing them to feed the plants that helped sustain us. It was circular. I’ve heard the lost colony, meanwhile, performed an air burial, allowing wild birds to be nurtured off the dead. In this floating castle of ours, we may need to find a temporary solution, at least until we decide where to land.”
“You mean, assuming we don’t use the Dungeon Core as a way to dispose of the dead,” I say.
She dips her head in agreement.
“We could still hold the ceremony aspect,” I say. “What is typically involved in that?”
“It is usually a private affair,” Mirzayael says. “The family and perhaps a few close friends of the deceased would spend a night together, telling stories of the loved one, and sharing good food and drink—if any is available. What the Frostone family decides to do will not be of our concern.”
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“I see.” A celebration of life, it sounds like. I wonder if anything like that was held for me back on Earth after I died. “Every day it feels like I’m learning new things I should have already known. Sometimes I think I’ll never catch up.”
“You can’t know everything,” Mirzayael teases. “Though I doubt that will stop you from trying.”
I chuckle. “It probably won’t.”
We meet up with Nek at the entrance to the palace, and he guides us through the nearby streets. The highest couple of tiers of the city are populated now, and while all of them are fleshed out on the Dungeon Core’s Map interface, I haven’t had much time to explore the area in person. Nek leads us to an area of interconnected homes mostly populated by dwarves, arachnoids, and felis.
The inhabitants of Fyreneth’s keep have unfortunately established semi-segregated living arrangements based on the needs of each species; the dracid, for instance, need homes that are sufficiently heated, and without the hot springs to provide natural warmth, most of those families have migrated to heated rooms within the palace. Meanwhile, the harpies prefer tiered houses with balconies where they can stretch their wings, and many have taken up residence in the palace’s spires. Dwarves and arachnoids, on the other hand, seem to prefer the cooler, darker network of homes beneath the palace that remind me of the caves we left behind. I intend to create suitable accommodations to diversify these living arrangements when I have time, but… Well, I nearly never have time.
The house Nek leads us to is a multigenerational home with at least twenty inhabitants. Most are dwarves, but there are a couple arachnoids and felis in the family as well. I would assume they married-in, but given Nek and Sora have kids that are a dracid and felis… Honestly, I’m still not sure how that all works.
The Frostones greet us with smiles, but their eyes are weary.
“Lord Mirzayael. Lord Fyre.” One of the dwarves steps up, dipping his head in greeting. “We’re honored by your visit.” His face is wrinkled, and his beard is wispy and white. Echo identifies him as Mica.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say. “I wish they could have seen the rest of the world.”
“Carnelian lived long enough to see us take flight, and that itself is more than most.” Mica beckons for us to follow him inside. “Please, come in.”
The dwarf leads us further into the house, though Mirzayael and I have to pause consistently to greet other members of the family. As we wind our way back, we pass by an open door from which a bright light is shining. I curiously glance in as we pass, wondering if it’s some sort of amplified Glow spell, but instead I catch sight of a brightly glowing orb nestled atop a pillow. I’m unable to Check it before we’ve already passed, but my interest is piqued. Perhaps I’ll ask on the way back.
Mica stops outside a door. “He’s just inside. We haven’t decided what we’ll do with his body yet. It’s just been…” His eyes mist up.
“I’m so sorry.” I hold out my hands in offering, and he beckons me in. I kneel down to give him a hug.
When I’m done, we step into the room, and Mirzayael closes it behind us. “What to do with him is what we’d like to speak with you about, actually,” she says. “We have a proposal to make.”
Mica wipes at the corner of each eye, then frowns in question at Mirzayael. “What proposal, my lords?”
“It’s to do with Fyreneth’s crown,” I say before Mirzayael can continue. I know she offered to speak on my behalf, but I feel like this is a question I should pose myself.
Besides, Mirzayael would be unlikely to ask with much tact.
“We recently discovered a new capability,” I continue. “One that will help fortify the security of the Fortress.”
I explain our request as delicately as I can. I know it is no small ask. But Mica listens the whole way through, never once interrupting. When I finish, my stomach feels filled with butterflies. Who am I to ask for such an intimate sacrifice?
“His body would be incorporated into Fyreneth’s crown?” Mica asks.
“Yes,” Mirzayael says. “Although, we would not require the entire body, if you would prefer to hold a traditional ceremony. Just a limb would suffice.”
I look at her in horror.
She raises an eyebrow at me. “What?” she mentally asks. “It’s true.”
Mica is shaking his head. “I don’t know what to say. That even in death he could be used to help our kingdom—that would be an incredible honor. I’m sure he would have wanted it, if he could tell you himself.” He swipes at his eyes again. “What do you need from us?”
“Nothing,” I say. “It would only take a moment.” Yet, I hesitate. “Would the rest of your family like to say their goodbyes, first?”
Mica leaves to speak with the rest of the house, and as it turns out, they all are quite interested in witnessing Fyreneth’s Crown work its magic. The actual Dungeon Core is still in the throne room (or, its Lair, as the Dungeon Core prefers to call it,) but its reach encompasses the whole kingdom. The Frostone family crowds around us as Mirzayael and I settle at the bedside of Carnelian’s body.
I look around the room. “If you’d like to say any words…”
“We’ve already made our peace, Lord Fyre,” Mica says. He pats the edge of the bed, looking at Carnelian with a sad smile. “We’re ready.”
Mirzayael’s mind bumps up against my own, radiating comfort and encouragement like the warmth of a sun.
I set a hand over the dwarf’s body and tap into the Dungeon Core, telling it what I’d like for it to do. Blissfully unaware of the emotionally heavy atmosphere of the room, the Core happily agrees, pulling Carnelian’s body into its inventory and disassembling his remains. Beneath my hand, the body vanishes, clothes and all.
Several of the family members gasp and murmur. Mirzayael moves to speak with Mica and the others. In my Interface, I note hundreds of new dots populate the Map. Now the list of species include:
- Human
- Felis
- Arachnoid
- Dwarf
Only harpy and dracid are unaccounted for.
And dragon, I suppose, but I doubt I’ll get one of those to add to the Core’s Inventory anytime soon.
I check my Role Range stat next: 23.85% of Target Radius. Still not enough to reach the ground, but I’m getting close. It also appears that this increased my range more than the last species I added to the Dungeon Core’s list. It must not be a linear relationship, then. That’s good; if harpy and dracid are added, my range might increase substantially.
Although my enthusiasm for this is significantly dampened by what would be required for the final two species to be accounted for.
Mirzayael and I linger to speak with anyone who wishes to talk to us, and Beryl even shows up to say hello. She’s been enjoying her retirement, it seems.
“Took long enough to dump the responsibility on some younger folk,” she happily says.
After a time, the conversation winds down, and we make our way back toward the front of the house. On the way we pass by the room with the glowing orb I’d caught sight of earlier. I attempt to subtly Check it as we pass, though the direction of my gaze draws Mirzayael’s attention, too.
“Ah, congratulations,” Mirzayael remarks, glancing around the Frostones. “To whom should I pass on my blessings?”
I stare at the dialogue box Echo created, unsure how to react.
“That would be Jasper, Zakaiya, and Rei,” Mica says.
“Ah. Zakaiya and Rei are in the guard.” Mirzayael frowns. “They should have told me. I can shift them to less mana-intensive activities.”
“I’m sure that’s not necessary,” Mica insists. “They all seem happy with the rate of development so far.”
“Please let them know they are free to approach me should anything change,” Mirzayael says.
Mica bows his head in appreciation. “Of course. Thank you.”
I distractedly mumble some sort of goodbye as we depart, my mind still spinning with questions. Mirzayael must be able to sense some of my bewilderment, as she gives me a curious look. “You’ve been quiet.”
Even though there are very few others walking the streets, I still lower my voice when I reply, faintly embarrassed. “As I mentioned earlier today, I am constantly encountering new topics I need to learn about,” I tell her. “I have a long overdue question I would like to ask. It will sound silly, however.”
She raises an intrigued eyebrow. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
I can still hear Echo’s voice in my head when I had her investigate the glowing sphere. [Check: Gestating Soul.]
“Mirzayael,” I say haltingly, heat creeping up the back of my neck. “How are children conceived?”
Mirzayael blinks at the question. Then she throws her head back and laughs, long and loud.
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