Book 3, chapters 6

6. Rain

Distantly, I heard a gong sound, but I paid it no mind as I left my companions behind to enter the villa where my mother convalesced after giving birth to a healthy baby boy.  My little brother, whom I knew housed the spirit of my grandfather, the former king.  It was a little strange to think of, and I had been considering spreading the word about this fact, but had ultimately decided to tell nobody whom I had not already shared the secret with.

A maid answered the door when I knocked, and, at a nod from Malkios, brought me directly into Mother’s sitting room, where she was working on her correspondence.  She looked up at me when I was led into the room, and her smile was beautiful.

“Welcome home, Hail.  I’ve been waiting for you,” she said.

“Waiting for me?” I asked.

“To name your brother.  I figured I should give you some input.  Valerio and I were all but set on Rain, after my father, but I was worried that it would always be associated with--”

“Rain is a good name,” I said.  “Don’t worry, Mother.  What I witnessed that day was horrible, but I am moving past it.  I willsee Nial Kingslayer brought to justice, both in this world and on Earth.  That is part of what has kept me away for so long.  One day I will leave again, in order to face him in court.”

Mother was impassive.  Finally, she nodded.  “I see.  You must do what you feel is correct.  I was never the right one to guide you in the matters of your heart, Hail.  You are too different from me and the other Natives, and too much like the Travelers.  It must be hard on you.  I am your mother, but I feel we have never truly been able to connect.”

“Don’t say that,” I argued.  “It’s true that you put a lot of responsibility onto Beckah when I was younger, but you’re the one I love as my mother.”

Analise Teoran smiled.  “Then I shall accept your love, Hail, for as long as you are willing to give it.”

“Until the closing of the gates and the death of this world itself,” I vowed.

“That sounds like a lot of love,” she teased.  “Are you certain you’ll have enough for me, and still find some for the others in your life?”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” I teased back.  “How is my brother?”

“It was an easy birth,” she assured me.  “Just like you were.  He is resting now--”

An infant’s squalling contradicted her, and she smiled.  “Well, he was.  Come, let’s you meet him.”

I followed mother into the room which had been set up to be my brother’s nursery.  Rather than repainting the walls, sheets had been hung up with patterns embroidered into them designating the histories of Houses Teoran and Wildeheart.  The infant himself was in a cradle, perhaps two or three weeks old, and he was a noisy little thing.

Mother diagnosed him simply by his squabbling, and I stood in the corner awkwardly as he was changed.  Afterward, she encouraged me to spend some time with him, and left me alone so that she could go lay down.  I sat next to the crib and rocked it, thinking.  If this was truly my grandfather’s spirit, there were so many things I wanted to say to him.  But he was an infant, what would he possibly understand?

I decided to hold him, and so I carefully lifted him out of the cradle --

<<You’re doing that wrong.  Support the head,>> Grandfather’s annoyed voice called out to me, and I was so startled that I … did not react well.  The infant’s body was launched into the air by my surprised action.  I panicked, but rather than fall, the infant simply hovered there, looking at me with a judgmental expression on his face.

<<Yes, I have decided that it will notbe part of this body’s story that it was dropped on its head by his brother within days of being born.  Come on, Hail, pick me up and put me back in the crib before I run out of mana.>>

I jumped to comply, carefully lowering the infant back into the cradle, this time being more careful to support its neck.  That was a thing you were supposed to do, right?

“Grandfather?” I asked.

<<Yes.  It was decided between myself and the administration team that, once I took habitation with this new form, I would be allowed to communicate with you in this manner.  It will be some time before you are ready to truly manage without my advice, and I will not be able to provide it contextually in this body for at least three or more canon years.>> Grandfather’s disembodied voice explained.

“That’s … I was worried, and now I am relieved.  You are not truly gone after all,” I said, and a burden left me which I had not realized I had born.

<<I am only dead in the context of the old king Rain, who ruled Yuikon while you were born and oversaw much of your early childhood,>> Grandfather explained.  <<You have done well in my absence, I think.  A little bit chaotic, but chaos is good sometimes, despite what the priests of Thedum teach.  If a structure cannot weather a storm, then it is not an orderly structure.  It should be torn down and built anew.  That is a true teaching of Thedum.>>

I brushed the wisdom aside, and turned towards my mother’s room.  “Does she know?  What or who you really are?”

<<In a way, she understands better than you do.  But she will never acknowledge it unless you specifically tell her in terms which you both understand,>> Grandfather explained.  <<Now then.  You have discovered that one of the gifts I left for you requires a bit of hard work to return to working order, yes?  Let us talk about your plans for North Shire for a while, before it is time for my nap.>>

It was good to get advice from my grandfather once more, even though it came from the body of an infant.  He was unrepentant about the messages he had me sent on his behalf, the ones which had been mostly veiled insult, stating that I needed to establish myself as an independent force within the nobility if I wanted to get anywhere.  If my potential allies would not overlook a minor insult to become my friend, then they were not worth trusting.  And insulting my likely enemies was a good way of preventing them from playing me with false friendships before I knew better.

But of course he would justify himself.  I decided to put the entire mess in the past.  My time with Auroras in the Deadlands had been unpleasant, but I had gotten a number of useful skills out of it, and the insults I had delivered on Grandfather’s behalf were part of the impetus to make that happen.

As for everything that had happened since, Grandfather’s spirit wholeheartedly approved.  He gave me a note or two about my future plans and highlighted certain abilities which I should have access to through my throne.  And he clarified a number of questions I’d had about battlegrounds, which I knew to ask after having created one, where I hadn’t known to ask before.

I had spent a total of eleven of the one hundred dungeon cores that I had gained from Zhesa castle.  I had gained eight cores from the Busting of Mikal Mines, but had given one of them to my step-father, Valerio, to be sold to the Eolstrian royal family.  The sum total was that I had ninety-six cores remaining.  And I was willing to spend no less than twenty of them purging my lands of bandits and building dungeons to draw Travelers from far and wide to North Shire.

I was quite certain that the new title I had gained would be helpful on that front.  But when I had planned to create five dungeons for North Shire and five for Thorn March, I had intended to spend only a single core on each dungeon.  I could see now that one hundred cores was not nearly the fortune I had once dreamed it to be.

I would have to establish a renewable source of Dungeon Cores, if I were to continue to spend them like candy.  I wondered if I could challenge a dungeon with the sole intent of farming cores from it?  Not to evolve, destroy, or reclaim it.  Just to claim cores as the reward.  I would have to try it; perhaps it was an option with my new title.

I would likely have to enter the core instance to do so, and declare an intent.  I was uncertain what effect that would have on the difficulty of the challenge.  It would probably be less than destroying the dungeon, but more than evolving it?  Although I had never intentionally evolved a dungeon before; the closest I had come was my clearing of the original version of Gemos Caverns.  Thankfully there were hundreds of dungeons in the world to experiment on, once I wasn’t worried about gaining levels any longer.

Once I had finished visiting with my mother and my grandfather’s spirit (within my brother’s new body), I left the building to find Tarisha, Lloyd, Rashid, and two Travelers I didn’t know yet.  Ones who had paid to be in this position.  I hoped I was about to make it worth their while.

“Please tell me if what I say does not generate a quest,” I began.  “Tarisha, I wish for you to lead this group to Mooncrest manor and reclaim my throne which is trapped within the dungeon.  Move it into the Temple of Thedum; I shall govern from there until my new manor is built by Randal the Architect.”

“Quest accepted,” Tarisha said immediately, and she was echoed by the five others.  “But what of you, Lord Hail?”

“The guards left with Malkios will be enough to keep me safe until The Recent Past collides with The Near Future,” I assured her.  “I still haven’t had enough time to explore all of the abilities and options that my throne gives me.  When I arrive in North Shire, I intend to have an exact plan to end the Northridge Freelancers once and for all.”

Tarisha hesitated, then her hesitation fled and she took on a determined expression.  “As you wish, Lord Hail.  We will race there and back as swiftly as our mounts will take us.  In the mean time, should you need anything, please reach out to me.”

I nodded in gratitude, and we split ways.  I returned inside, to the parlor where my throne sat.  I didn’t sit in it immediately, however.  I had other business to attend to, which I did not wish anyone to witness.

One of my pass-times while I had been trapped on earth was watching the videos of the great traveler warriors.  I had noticed something vital when doing so.  A difference between myself and them in which I was sorely lacking.

My HUD was crap.  I had set it up to be as unobtrusive as possible because I hadn’t known how to interpret the information it had been feeding me at the time, so I had simply closed the windows, or hidden them, or moved them into the corner of my vision where they were out of the way.

I knew better now.  It was time to set myself up with a proper interface.