Interlude The Revenant and the Naga

Interlude The Revenant and the Naga

Paradise on earth. Utopia. Few existed on earth. Fewer still in the air or under sea.

Also, paradise for whom was the question. If you meant some people, you could call some nations paradises for the elite. For all was harder. And even then, the word generally only meant a place where people were free from disease, monster attacks, war, or banditry.

That was already beyond the Walled Cities, the ken of the Great Companies of Baleros, and the Kingdoms of Terandria by and large. They had 90% success rates, 99% success storiesbut they always had loosely-held borders, slums, places where neglect led to suffering.

True utopias where such things were truly once-in-a-year occurrences or only occurred during total catastrophe? So few. And they tended to become targets because of how nice such places were. And if such nations guarded their borders, they tended to become military aggressors and so

For a hundred points, add the following qualities: a stable utopia of at least four decades, where plague, monster attacks, and war did not trouble its civilians. For two hundred points: no starvation, free education and/or employment, access to medicine, and housing. Options also included higher-grade magical luxuries, an abundance of artistic or creative outlets, and reclining sofas.

That was a hard standard to meet. And a few utopias did qualify. There was Khelt, the undead kingdom of Chandrar, the Kingdom of Keys in Terandria, the Archmages Isle of Heiste

But that was a list. To really break down what made each nation special, one had to know what each utopia had to offer. And what each lacked.

It is, of course, impossible to compare the Archmages Isle of Heiste to Khelt. It is Izrils only settlement qualifying of the title of utopia. Truly, it may be called such because it was builta sensible decision by one of the Archmages of Wistram. She had the foresight to sequester and then construct her private paradise, which, upon her death, became the Archmages Isle. An abundance of plant life, carefully selected to provide fruits and nourishment from around the world as well as floral blooms of surpassing beauty. The isle itself has sumptuous housing, magical enchantments that protect and provide; indeed, magical familiars, Golems, and other servants. A utopia, I shall admit. But one with a flaw.

The voice was precise, although it had a faint echo. Well-spoken, commanding, and slightly sneering. It waited for a response. After a second, someone replied.

Whats the flaw?

The Archmages Isle can barely provide for two thousand residents. And they would consider that crowded. There is no way to expand said isle either, since the [Archmage] who created it lies dead. Thus, the isle is fragile against overpopulation, such that they must routinely cull their numbers. Well, that is a necessity, but it is also highly endangered by invasive creatures who would consume the entire isle. Let alone Crelers; tunneling beetles nearly laid the utopia low.

Mhm. Beetles. Sounds nice to live in, though.

One may assume so. However, society within utopias matters. Consider the House of Minos. Another utopia, insofar that its citizens are without the most common of troubles. Even sotheir society prides itself on the ephemeral qualities of honor and a warriors tradition. It must rely on volunteers to staff its navy and army to keep itself safe, and whilst I would laud the King of Minotaurs her nation more than Heisteit too suffers the flaw of society.

The King of Minotaurs is female?

A sigh. Or a sound like a sigh.

Yes. The title isas for the Kingdom of Keys, I would say the paranoia of its citizenrynot to mention the unique cultureinterferes with its qualification as a utopia. Are you familiar with the Kingdom of Keys, Samal? Of course you arent.

Nope. Whats it like?

The speaker was a [King]. Or rathera King. Also, undead. He was named Fetohep of Khelt and his eyes flashed golden in their hollowed sockets as he reclined on his throne and spoke. On the nature of utopias, he was an expert.

Doors upon doors. Each part of the kingdom, a passageway into the next. The outerlayer of the kingdom itself is a gateway that must be entered. Yet entire fields and farmlands lay beyond. An enemy must first bypass the gateway by force of armsor keys of their own. Thus, safeguarded, Samal creates inner gateways. And its citizenry has taken that to an extreme. They lock everything with the same keys, obsess over what is theirs. To be great in Samal is to have a key to every lock. To be poor is to have a key only to the fewest things.

Makes sense. Is it nice to live in?

I would place it below the Silent Dome of Baleroswhich is a maintained utopia for their honored elite. As I stated earlier, a utopia that caters only to a few could include even Roshal. But true paradise is far more challenging. It is simple enough to make one man live like a [King]. To make all live like [Lords] is far harder. And yet, I declare Khelt to maintain such a place. True, if I must list my nations flaws, it is our reliance upon water and the labor of the undead. Neither of which is a crucial weakness, but flaw exists. However, compared to other nations which must train and maintain armies

Mhm.

The undead ruler, Fetohep, paused. The reply waswell, the absent sound of someone who was clearly doing something else and making a Im listening noise.

It was not something he, Fetohep, ruler of Khelt for over six hundred years, was used to hearing. He balefully eyed the glowing crystal, hovering next to his throne, surrounded by a suspended, faintly-inscribed ring of oscillating gold.

A more permanent version of a speaking stone, which could be tuned to receptors at great distances. This one was currently tuned to Esthelm, Izril. And a young man was holding it against his ear as he fiddled with some mechanical parts.

Are you listening to me, Kevin of Liscor?

Erabsolutely, your Majesty!

There was a hurried shuffling sound, as of someone sitting more fully upright and guiltily putting something down. Fetohep paused pointedly.

My words are not so light as to be put after other, mundane activities, are they?

No, sire. Not at aller

Er, what?

A pause, and the sound of someone scratching their head. At last, Kevin came out with it.

Not to insult your Wise Majestybut its just that, um

Fetohep waited, nodding at the proper address. The young man did vary it each time, which Fetohep appreciated. After a second, Kevin just came out with it.

Id hate to offend your Majesty. Its just that, well, Ive been learning of utopias and their qualifications for um, the last six hours, King Fetohep. And I uhhave work to do. Not that I cant make time for our best client! But I

Another moment.

I have to pee.

Ah.

The undead ruler thought about this. Then he imperceptibly moved his head and checked the ceiling. He noted the Skyceiling was displaying a markedly different time than when he had first called Kevin. The ceiling could, at will, reflect the open sky above. It had been about midnight when he had decided to educate Kevin on Khelts greatness. Now it was dawning.

Six hours of nonstop illumination on Khelt and utopias. Kevin would not normally have been so indecorous, but stopping Fetohep was like trying to stop a sandstorm. He would have to make a salient point and to interrupt him was to offend.

I forget mortal qualms. Very well, Kevin of Liscor. Go perform suchbodily functions. Then, we shall discuss what you believe is a utopia.

Ervery good your Majesty. Only

Kevin wanted to sleep. And eat food. And not do that. He looked aroundthen Fetohep heard a crash.

Oh no! I think it might be a monster attack. Someones calling the alarm! I have toIll have to

A monster attack?

Fetoheps voice reflected extreme skepticism. He did not hear the warning horns or bellsjust a crash as something was hurled against a wall. He was about to point that out when the speaking stone went dead.

The King stared at the floating communications device. The flames in his eyes narrowed to pinpoints. Visible fury passed over him

Then was gone. Emotion did not rule Fetohep. But he waspeeved at the obvious slight. He indulged in the rare emotion for a second.

Thenhe had second thoughts. If there was one thing an undead being of centuries was good at, it was introspection. Moreover, Fetohep had not had the Skills in life, but he had learned what some [Mages], [Strategists], and other great thinkers like [Secretaries] had mastered.

True introspection. First he was angry. Then he questioned why he was angry. He questioned if he, Fetohep, was wrong. He tried to take the mortal position and found himself wanting.

Six hours is long by mortal spans. Moreover, young men rush about. He has a business of his own to run. Perhaps I interposed my will overlong to provoke such desperation. He is not a fool.

The ruler of Khelt nodded to himself, already processing the event coolly. After a second his glowing eyes burned a bit brighter as something else occurred to him.

Midnight is also not an appropriate time to be awake for many. Ah.

How he forgot such things. Fetohep smiledor he would have smiled if he bothered to make facial expressionsor he would have smiled if his dead flesh were capable of such intricate muscular motionsas he recalled one such memory.

He had once inadvertently killed fifteen diplomats in his first century of reign by inviting them to gaze upon the wonders of Khelt. Which had included some rooms that were quite without air. He had demanded to know why they would not stand in his presence right before they expired for lack of oxygen.

The memory was amusing in hindsight, even if he had been mortified at the time. Fetohep wanted to recall it tohe looked at the speaking stone and his eyes flickered.

Ah. It was dead. And the person he truly wanted to talk toeither of them, really, but one in particularwas not here.

Something strange. Fetohep of Khelt did not move from his throne, where he had sat for three days. Straight. Without getting up to pee, without so much as budging an inch. He didnt scratch himself, he didnt twitch, or even breathehe had been as still as a statue.

For three days.

Oh, he spoke. He had been speaking quite a lot, really. And that wasodd.

Yes, very odd. Why did he want Trey Atwood, or his sister, to be sitting there, perhaps on the floor, perhaps in the dining room where he would sit upon a throne there too and tell them about the inadvertent story of the dead diplomatsand then the numerous times he had intentionally killed them?

Strange.

Fetohep mused, because his mind was reminding him of some truths. He did not divide his consciousness up into parallel selves like the [Mages] didbut he had mastered the art of smart [Witches]. Introspectiveness. And he recalled

He had not always been like this. In fact, a year ago? This was what his days would have been like.

Sit here, unmoving, silently maintaining and arranging the undead legions of Khelt. Sit and think. Or sit and be still, and let time pass like water unto sand.

He had passed entire weeks like that. Fetohep had once sat for five months without moving, without speaking, until he was roused to investigate a murder of passion that had taken place.

He recalled it quite clearly. And even if he seldom got close to his five-month record, he would still sit for hours or days unending without needing to so much as speak.

His servants came and went. They cleaned the palace, but they did not interrupt him except when he was needed. And that was surprisingly seldom.

Khelt had set up its society such that its ruler only needed to maintain and change what they willed. Fetohep was more preoccupied with border matters, trade, than he was with his people.

And frankly, it was fine. For Kheltwas a utopia. And its king had been content with his paradise in the sands because his people wanted for nothing. He had spent six centuries thusly, participating in some wars, defending his nation a few times, but reallymaking sure everything ran the way it had.

Onlynowsomething was wrong. The King sat there for sixteen minutes and forty three seconds and he was aware of sitting there. And a new thought emerged. One that had not troubled him since his death, but as a mortal man he had sometimes known.

Sands take me, Im bored.

Fetohep looked around. His head moved; then he spoke.

Pomle.

The speaking artifact floated away and another appeared in its place. A large scrying mirror, perfect, highly-enchantedFetohep gazed into it.

Are there any Sparring Events today?

He was referring to the new practice in Pomle; fighting arenas where one could bet on two fightersor even groupswho would battle until one or the other was defeated.

A new concept. However, not original. Gladiator arenas had existed long before even Khelt. In fact, Nerrhavia was beginning to broadcast its own gladiatorial matches, in its great arenas. Other nations were doing the sameeven Illivere was going to broadcast Golem Testings, which Fetohep was very interested in.

As he peered at the empty arena and realizedit was dawnFetohep was already summoning the [Messages] of the scheduled Sparring Events to his mind.

Lets see. Level 42 [Martial Artist] specific class unknownversus eight Level 20+ [Martial Artists]! Two Level 30+ among the eight. Oh, now that did sound interesting!

He reviewed the details. Hm. Even more fascinating. It listed Dullahan as species for the Level 42 [Martial Artist], and gave a gender. Male. And since it was eight Level 20swell, the odds were still in the higher-levels favor, but not by much.

Fetoheps keen mind and undead memory presented him with options of who this could be. Even in Pomle, such a level was rare. Male, Dullahanhe was put in mind of the [Armored Fist] class of martial arts, who prized extreme resilience.

And if that were so, few Level 20 [Martial Artists] could take down someone twice their level, even with such numerical advantages. Now, a Garuda might be in trouble, but this?

Fetohep summoned another artifact; a Scroll of [Messages]. He spoke, and a quill wrote on the message, auto-transcribing his words.

Fetohep of Khelt wagers a sum of eight thousand, six hundred gold pieces on the Level 42 [Martial Artist].

The [Message] was transcribed, the bet laid in. Fetohep experienced some satisfaction as the odds instantly adjusted as the [Bookkeepers] taking bets on the event took note of his wager.

He had helped fund Pomles matches. And he had cultivated a reputation for making the correct wager. Fetohep had a 68% success rate, which actually peeved him; hed had a losing streak this last week.

He didnt bet much. And he had, in fact, increased Khelts treasury, albeit by small amounts.

It was just a hobby. But it was odd that it was his hobby. He hadnt needed one.

Nor did Fetohep spend long on the match. He would watch it of course, and that would happily fill oh, maybe thirty minutes? But it would be hours later, alas.

Wistram News Network.

The scrying mirror flickered to life. Fetohep saw a Drake speaking and sipping a cup of tea.

just waking up, Im Noass, bringing you todays news. The King of Destructions war with multiple Chandrian nations rages on with a development in battle; Mars the Illusionists forces were pushed back after intense fighting between

Next. Wistram Music.

A new channel appeared. Fetohep heard a quartet of violins playing. He listened for a minute as the Dullahan musicians played. Was this a recording? He tapped a finger on his armrest to the beat. Then sighed.

Hed heard this song before. A Dullahan classic. The kings voice had more irritation in it now.

Wistram News Network.

war in Ailendamus on the other hand has seen

Nerrhavias Wonders.

Another magical connection. It was lessprecise, since the network wasnt maintained by Wistram. But it was of an [Explorer] heading down a river. Fetohep recognized it as the Channel of Borendivual, one of the largest in Nerrhavia.

And here we are headed to a dangerous section where the famous leaping crocodiles of Nerrhavia await! The [Guards] are ready, and we believe this early they will be nappingwe shall cross this part of our voyage through the great Kingdom of Nerrhavia, before you glorious viewers will be witness to a battle between [Gladiators] in our capital citys arena! Do not miss it, at midday

Wistram News Network.

Hed seen the Boredivual himself. Hed fought said leaping crocs as a living man and had no desire to see Nerrhavias pet [Explorer] show off his kingdoms glories and praise it every two minutes. The [Gladiators] were interesting, though. Fetohep checked for bets and placed one while the scrying mirror flickered back to the Drake at the desk.

later, Drassi and I will be interviewing a [Blademaster] of Baleros about combat styles. Tune in at ten for that. Just before midday

Hm.

At last, something interesting. Fetohep was always willing to listen to talk of combat; even if he could have given the two Drakes a more educated discussion of the art of blades. He had been a [Warrior] in life, after all.

But he would listen, critique, or laud the [Blademaster] as the case might beperhaps even call in, as the network sometimes allowed. He had listened to himself twice pointing out flaws in the broadcast.

Quite, quite enjoyable when that happened. But none of this stemmed his boredom now. Fetohep drummed his fingers.

There were exactly three channels he had access to at this moment. Wistram News, Wistram Music, and Nerrhavias Wonders. More were being developed of course, but few had the magical know-how and resources to put on such shows.

And of those that did, he needed to wait while the attuning crystals or spells were brought to Khelt. How vexing.

Not that Fetohep had needed any of this. But nowafter listening to the Drake for another second, Fetohep spoke.

Nerrhavias Wonders. Again.

my leg! Empress preserve us, theyrehelp, help

Fetohep watched as a screaming man went over the side of the boat. A crocodileeasily three times his size and many more times his weightlaunched over the boat, dragging another [Guard] down. The [Explorer] was grappling with one, and these crocodiles were ancient, massive, with scales like steel.

Ah, how interesting.

The King of Khelt smiled. He watched until someone cut the feed and sighed. Always when it was getting good.

He flipped back to Wistram News Network just in time to see Noass commentate on the live-deaths and embarrassment to Nerrhavia in real time. Although Fetohep was pleased to see the [Explorer] survived, mainly by hacking his way through croc after croc. Some as long as thirty feet tried to drag the entire boat into the water. He and the surviving crew ran along one and leapt to shore at which point Fetohep lost interest.

Now there was real entertainment. And then it was gone and Fetohep was waiting for the next thing. He wanted hundreds of these news channels, and recalled Trey telling him about that in his world. Fetohep recalled the device and show and suddenly wished he had one. And still, his thoughts demanded.

What was wrong with him?

-

Fetohep of Khelt was a powerful ruler of a utopia. But not, as some might assume, a well-known one. He was not a famous ruler like Flos of Reim, who was practically his neighbor.

Because Khelt did not do things. It was a bubble nation, aloof from the affairs of the world unless circumstances most dire intruded.

Similarly, there was another kind of rulerif not in namewho existed in a paradise for the chosen few. Who was also unknown in the lists of the great rulers of the world unless you knew of him. In which case, he was very famous indeed.

Emir Yazdil of Roshal was a figure of stories. If you walked through the markets of Lailight Scintillation, the grand and fabled marketplace of Roshal, one of the wonders of the world, you could, while buying some curio uncovered from ancient ruins or a rare or priceless artifactor a [Slave]hear stories about the most powerful, most famous of Roshals [Emirs].

He had many names. One of them was the Naga. And a curious visitor might well inquire to such person willing to make small talk, of which there were many, what had given him this title.

Each answer inevitably led to the Emir, and there were countless people who had seen, claimed to have seen, or at the very least, knew an acquaintance of a friends distant relative, who had been there when the very event took place.

The point was that the Emir was fabled. As close to the ancient greats of old as the King of Destruction. And the Emir was certainly richer than most [Kings]. He was more powerful than many monarchs too because Roshal was a titan among the many nations of Chandrar, a city-state whose power and reach was unmatched.

At least, that was what Roshal said. And the Emirs grand reputation existed in Roshal alone. Outside of it? He was just one of the [Slave Masters] that the other ignorant nations dismissed. Which was obviously a fools point of view.

Roshal was ruled by [Slavers]. But it was crude to say it so. Say rather that among the many interests of the [Emirs], [Slave Lords], and other powerful [Merchants], aristocrats, and individuals of note, slavery was not only legal but reveled in. And once againamong them all Emir Yazdil was the most famous.

There were seven stories about him that were told this week alone.

-

On the first day, Emir Yazdil was, while resting in his palace that sat among the many citadels of Roshal, minded to take a hunt. He had tired of the thousand thousand sights in the crystalline fortress of his home. It was said that he had bought the enchanted glass citadel from a disgraced [Prince] who had ordered his Djinni to convey the citadel to Roshal in a single night.

Certainly, it had not existed in Roshal until thirty years ago. Now, it shone, even among the hundreds of other palaces built by the ruling elite of Roshal. It sparkled, and Lailight Scintillation below it, the Grand Bazaar, one of the largest markets in the entire world was also abuzz with life.

For gold, you could buy weapons from Derithal-Vel. Dwarfsteel, light and strong. Orif your tastes ran towards food, any manner of produce from Oteslia, or Baleros, or ingredients for alchemy, like Eir Gel. Everything came to the markets.

And if you had lots of gold or great favors with the right people, as money was secondary to favors or other trades, like valuable goods or even magical contracts that allowed one to command mercenaries into battle, you might buy something better than mere food or furniture.

A [Slave]. From Chandrar, or Balerosseldom Izril or Terandria, whose nations were more recalcitrantbut of every kind. Drake, Dullahaneven the Gazers of Baleros were a commodity in the bazaar, however seldom.

Even half-Giantsbut of course, one would have to win the auction and be very rich. But you could buy them. Or a Djinni.

Or a Demon. For the riches of Roshal and pride of the slavemasters was great, but even they send aid to the Blighted Kingdom. Just the month before, Emir Yazdil had sent fifty ships laden with riches for the Blighted King and thus earned the gratitude of Rhir. He could have sent a hundred times that number, that was the excess of his wealth, which even the Drake Wall Lords of Salazsar would have envied.

And today, all of this bored Emir Yazdil. He ignored the supplications of his fellow [Emirs] to join them in entertainment. He scorned the company of Roshals most bewitching courtesans, who could command thousands and tens of thousands of gold pieces for a single night.

He had no seraglio, or harem, so there were no designs on his attentions there. Such was the Emirs boredom that it was only a suggestion from his foremost slave and bodyguard which roused him.

Perhaps the Emir would care to hunt?

That piqued the Emirs interests. He immediately organized a hunt. The fact that there was no great animal spotted was not an issue; he would find one and go to one.

Within the hour, a hundred flying carpets left Roshal, bearing the Emir, his great friends, or the ones currently in favor, servants, bodyguards, and experts to find him the quarry and excitement he sought. And the quarry they found was a Grand Elephant, larger than most of its kind and thus a titan, wandering the plains. A lone bull, inexplicably separated from a herd.

The hunt began as the [Emirs], [Slave Masters], and great friends of the Emir and he himself began to hunt the Grand Elephant. They cast enchanted spears from carpets or rode on horseback if they were more daring, because the bull elephant soon began to prove that it was not herd-less for lack of strength.

The thick hide resisted even low-grade enchantments. And the great creature rampaged at the servants and [Hunters], crashing through lines of pikes, even boar-spears. An [Archer] shot an arrow through the animals head, but even a [Piercing Shot] only lodged in the bone of its skull.

The Emir watched, using a wand as he and the others hung back, watching the battle take place. Hundreds of spears were cast, and a number of enchanted ones, and the elephants strength wavered.

Still, it fought on. And the Emir paused to remark that this beast was equaled only by one other. When enquiring minds of his friends asked which one, he nodded at the wounded Grand Elephant, still fighting.

I once had the pleasure of meeting the former Empress of Beasts and her great friend, Thef. A Grand Elephant augmented by Skills. Yet this lone bull fights alone and without.

Indeed, the Grand Elephant did not flee or give in, even as its blood ran across the ground. Eventually, the hunt brought it to its knees. And still, the mighty creature raged, swatting down the [Hunters] daring enough to close to try to finish the job. No poison had been used for fear it would ruin the meat and besides, it was a hunt, and poison was not sporting.

It was as the jaws of the hunt closed and the great bull was finally breathing its last that the Emir raised a hand. A Human hand this day; he cried out for all to hear.

Enough! Halt your spears! Bring me potions and salves!

The confused [Hunters] and servants stopped. The Emir called out again, and bewildered, his servants rushed forwards. Had he been hurt?

No. The Emir demanded they apply the best potions and salves to the elephant. The animal was tended to by potions worth more gold than those that held them. Within ten minutes, it was on its feet.

It was said that the Emir and the bull looked at each other as the bloodied but healed animal stood. Then, Emir Yazdil nodded to the creature.

In response, the Grand Elephant charged and would have trampled the Emir and gored him in an instant if it were not for the Emirs foremost servant. The Emir was quick on his feet, but the elephant far greater. But his dedicated bodyguard (of whom more will be said later), seized him and leapt upon a carpet.

The Emir was flown away as the bull elephant rampaged about for another minute, then stormed away. In much chaos, the hunt dissolved, with the friends of the Emir not sure what to think.

They found him laughing, beside himself, as he watched the great elephant go. In much good humor, the Emir turned to the others and explained.

Such a fierce animalI couldnt bear to see it turned into meat, and the tusks ivory! It was a champion among its kind, and I was honored to have met it.

Bemused, one of his companions who dealt in both animals and people remarked.

There are a hundred [Beast Masters] who I could summon to make that beast worthy of riding palanquin upon, Emir Yazdil. Just say the word and I will make that animal twice as strong, with hides that would defy even the greatest [Lancers].

The Emir smiled and shook his head, for he was a Human today.

Mydre, my friendit is a grand thing you offer. But then it would not be a fierce, solitary animal, but a possession. And I do not care for that. Nor would he be mine. For I do not know how to tame animals. People I know, but I will let that beast go in peace.

Thus cheered, he returned to his palace and held a banquet the rest of the day, in the best of spirits. And true to his word, the Emir owned no great, striped cats, no exotic birds, not even hunting dogs or a menagerie like some of Roshals [Slave Lords]. He owned only people, and called them his great treasures.

-

Fetohep of Khelt arose from his throne. His servants, thus alarmed, flocked to him, but asked nothing. Merely followed, waiting for his will.

I shall walk my city today.

The undead rulers words caused a stirhis appearance as he descended the long, long steps from his palace, even more so.

It was rare for Fetohep to walk in his city, for all Khelt was a city of marvels. Each building, as Trey Atwood had once seen, artistic. They had all the time in the world to make their city beautiful. And in this true utopia, the citizens wanted for nothing. They could eat and drink and sleep away their entire lives and some did, or devote themselves to art, a passion.

Fetohep asked nothing of them save they obey his laws. If one left, they might never return. But who would leave?

Some did. Fetohep was reminded of the family of Khelt, who had left and contracted the Yellow Rivers disease. He turned to one of the servants.

The family of sixhave they recovered from the disease?

Yes, Majesty. Shall they present themselves to you?

Good. And no.

The servant bowed and Fetohep thought no more of it. He knew the family; they were not unique. The father had dreamed of adventure and lands beyond Khelt and thus left, despite knowing he might not return. The mother and children had followed.

They had begged his forgiveness and aid less than three years later. Fetohep would not have taken them in, save for the fact that the children, all four of them, had not been old enough to choose.

Thus, he had paid for [Pirates] to raid the ships bearing the cure and deliver it to Khelt for one family. The rest he had kept in case the disease came across the borders, although he had locked them down the instant he had heard of it.

All for six of Khelts own. Which was right and proper.

As he walked the streets, Fetohep reflected that this had shaped Khelt. Many of the people were heavier than any other nation. After all; they could eat however much they wanted.

Food was free. No one looked ill, or tired. There were no laws about when they must work, and no corporations.

Housing was free. If they craved drink; wine, bourbon, even that horrible Firebreath Whiskey?

Not free. Those had to be paid for. Khelt did have an economy, insofar as the actually valuable goods needed some exchange of goods or coin. However, you could receive food from Khelts fields, meat from the flocks, and you would never starve. Your home would always have bedding and water and light and basic furniture. Just nothing else unless you worked for it.

Previous rulers had done this because they had observed the one true weakness of Khelt. And that was that without anything to do, many would find a passion, or enjoy themselves.

Some would turn to corruption. Hedonism being the first step. But then darker desires and activities would begin to appear. It was one of the reasons Khelt kept no slaves. It was a poor thing and bred poor practices.

Fetohep observed some of his citizens playing a game as he walked the streets. He stoppedpointed it out to the hundreds of people following him just to see why he was walkingand asked.

What is that game?

Your Majesty?

One of the servants chosen for the day was patently confused. She looked at the two running about, grunting and smacking a rubber ball across the ground.

I have seen every game played by Khelts people. This is new.

Khelt had every game in the world that was socially acceptable to play in public. People loved such games. Chess had caught on like fire here. Indeed; there were eight such courts here alone and it seemed like the trend.

Your Majesty, this is tennis.

Tennis? Has another game appeared?

Fetohep was familiar with football, baseballhe had commissioned Khelts own [Carpenters] and [Leatherworkers] and so on to replicate the games and had seen children and adults playing them. One of his people looked at him.

Your Majesty recalls Teresa Atwoods visit?

She knew the name of his guest. All of Khelts capital probably did. Trey and Teres, as two visitors of Fetohep themselves, were famous. Fetoheps head turned.

Of course. Did she bring this game here?

She explained the rules. We thought it was your Majestys will

The woman paled. Fetohep lifted a hand.

It is well. Teresa Atwood has done me a service, it seems.

Then your Majesty approves of the game?

Mindful of the gleaming eyes, Fetohep nodded slightly. And he knew that this game would dominate his nation for the next month. Even more so when he spoke.

Find the two best players of the game. No, sixteen. I shall observe them play.

So he did. The people rushed to watch as eight games took place. Fetohep learned the rules, watched the matches of quite good Skill! In fact, a number of his people had even picked up the class!

Delightful. He would have smiled if he had the flesh. Fetohep immersed himself in the games.

But only for a while. He looked around at his contented people. And his eyes and artifact counted less than a dozen among the thousands over Level 20 in any one class. They were low-level in many things, but the ones who dedicated themselves were few and far between.

Ah.

He watched two games, then left his people to it. Fetohep walked through his city and was reminded why he did this so seldom.

It had not changed overly much in six hundred years. The football pitches did, the baseball, tennis courts, and the plays. But the people did not. They were happy. Thuslythey bored him.

-

The second day, the dawn of Lailight Scintillation saw a quite ordinary man standing in line for a local [Patisserie]s shop. He stood there every day, and bought a fresh pastry, bagel, croissantespecially the special of the day or anything new.

The owner of the bakery was talented. They had made their shop from nothing and experimented constantly. Some days they tried to bake shellfish into dough with explosive diarrhea threatening anyone who ate it. Other times they made fine little cakes, or carved bits of baked bread into playable chess pieces that tasted delightful, or made their batters out of interesting or magical flavors.

It was a gamble eating from the shop, but a delightful one. And recently their baking soda breads had doubled the already fluffy Skill-based breads that came from there. The Drake man, who had been born in Roshal, had begun attracting even more business.

And thus, tragedy had struck. A competing [Baker], angry at the mans success, had paid an [Assassin] to slaughter him in the night. As dawn rose, his bloody corpse had been found in the shop.

The quite ordinary man had left as people wept and wailed and Roshals own securitythe private army reallyinvestigated. Of course, the assassination was obvious, but no one blamed the [Assassin]. The offending baker was fined heavily, but the matter was closed.

That was Roshals way. And naught more would have come of it save for the lack of interesting breads.

However, later that day the ordinary man showed up at the competing bakers store. He was accompanied by the Emir Yazdils personal guards and security. He revealed, to the now terribly worried [Baker], that he was a servant of the Emir and hired to pick up a baked good each and every day. Thusly, since the [Patisserie] was dead, the Emir was furious.

The [Baker] pleaded that he had not known this. If he had, he would have thought twice! And this was true, and reasonable. The ordinary man even nodded sympathetically.

The unfortunate [Baker] took nine hours to die, and only stopped screaming at the end of it as he was dragged around Roshal by horses until bloodied rope and his leg was all that was left. Even the citizens of Lailight Scintillation, so full of wonders and treachery, stopped in admiration and horror of the Emirs wrath.

Nervously, the [Assassin]s Guildmaster himself dined with the Emir that night, along with several other [Emirs] and [Merchants], at a dinner where the Emirs fury was still quite visible.

Emir Yazdil, should a man question who they slay in this city? Or would it be better to mark such people as the Emir enjoys, to prevent danger to those who would act this way?

The Guildmaster inquired at length. The Emir pursed his lips sourly.

I enjoyed my bakers goods because he was not famous, Guildmaster Veer. If I was his patron, he might have lost the daring that made him so special, and his foods both delight and treachery on the bowels.

His serpentine tail twitched and it was said even the Guildmaster flinched, for the Naga was twined like a venomous snake, ready to pounce. Presently, one of the others raised his voice.

Then, Emir, how are we to be assured that the next person we have assassinated is not beloved of yours?

To that, the Emir was reported to have looked at the offending guest until the fellow removed himself. He remarked in icy tones to the other guests.

To kill someone is to invite danger, to both [Assassin] and client. That only seems fair. As to whom I would object to outside my personal servants and guards? Do not kill that which is special. A great [Baker] died today, and he is gone now and will never return. Men and women may copy him, but what is original is special because it is original. That is what matters.

He left his guests shortly thereafter, and from then on, it was said the Guild of Assassins would take requests to kill [Laborers], [Merchants], [Soldiers], even [Slave Masters], but they would hesitate to kill [Artists] and artisans. Because it might be someone the Emir prized above all. And the Nagas wrath was as infamous as his generosity.

-

On his third day of boredom, Fetohep engaged in one of the pursuits that did lead him to contact with the outside world, even before now.

Headhunting.

As you desire such things, [Carver] Inaceran, they shall be provided. Your mansion made of aught but wood I shall provide, or have my [Architects] construct. There is precious little wood in Khelt grown wildly, but the Forest of Nemask I shall allow you to use, and plant a grove of no less than four thousand trees to begin with. More, should the need arise.

Andyou do not require me to make you anything?

The voice was suspicious. Highly so. Fetohep suppressed his impatience.

Only to teach those who ask you. Four apprentices per year.

Which you will pay me four thousand gold pieces to do, in addition to everything else.

Patent incredulity. The nervous half-Elf woman stared at the ruler of Khelt. Fetohep knew it was unsettling for someone from Terandria. He wished she were of the Claiven Earththe half-Elves of Chandrar to the north. If she was, she would know he was serious.

Actually, that wasnt a half-bad idea.

Inquire of your kin of the Claiven Earth, [Carver] Inaceren. They will reassure you if you doubt my sincerity. There are two hundred half-Elves living in my domain. If you will it, you may speak with them.

I would neverdoubt your words, your Majesty.

The woman hesitated. Fetohep graciously ignored the lie, and the woman seemed more reassured as he arranged a meeting with one of his other half-Elven subjects. He cut the [Scrying] spell.

Headhunting. Fetohep reflected that if the [Master Carver] came here, he would have to create an entire forest and have the undead servants water it and perhaps even dig an aquifer and replenish it regularly. Let alone build her a home for her family. The money was no object, really.

But he would do it. Because half-Elves lived for a long time and were thus an investment. Also because Khelt needed experts.

The people of Khelt sometimes became masters of their own. But seldom. Most flitted from new thing to new thing. Great warriors, great craftersthey had few of. But Fetohep enticed experts from around the world to come here. They were the rare immigrants who earned a place in Khelt that they might inspire and teach other generations.

When my time comes, will I find my successor?

I have learned a great truth of creation. Which one?

There were a number Fetohep could think of. He was undead. And wary of [Necromancers], but he understood death magic, even if he had not been a [Mage] in life.

Think of that. Think of Khelts legions with asecret of undeath at their disposal. Think of what Khelt could be.

The King of Destruction had roused his people. Set a fire in their hearts. Call him a fool, a boy-[King] who did not consider the consequences of what he did, who brought only slaughter. He still inspired.

Think of ambition. Fetoheps eyes glinted golden. If Khelt were larger? If it had access to lush lands? Was that not worthy of legacy?

Still, this was one person who would invite calamity and the enmity of the world. Fetoheps fingers tapped on his throne. Presently, he put the [Message] aside, hid it away.

Scrying mirror. Wistram News.

He sat on his throne. Watching, taking note of the world.

Unable to sit still.

-

The last legend of the Emir was this. On the day after the Emir Darsul attempted his attack on the Emir, the Naga dined and ate in good company, and never uttered a word about last nights events, though he did invite the Guildmaster of Assassins to take tea with him, and then toured the marketplace in good spirits.

All waited for his response, perhaps his soldiers, or some comment at least to Emir Darsul.

None came. Night fell, and the Emir Darsul waited in fear, perhaps hoping Yazdil would be amenable to gifts or other tokens come morning.

At midnight, the Emir Yazdil called to his servant Iert. He gave the Gnoll one instruction, and his great servant left Yazdils palace. (Of course, no one was there to hear the command, or even know it was given, but the truth of what came after is obvious in hindsight).

The Gnoll moved unseen through Roshal, and came to Darsuls own palace. He slipped past the watchful sentries, moved unseen through magical enchantments, and scaled the very tower in which Darsul hid without leaving footprint or mark.

Then, Iert slipped past the blind Djinni, and Darsuls bodyguards, led by a great [Mercenary Captain]. He entered the room where Darsul slept, guarded by magical protections and, well

They said the next day the [Mercenary Captain] checked on the Emir Darsul and then fled screaming, with all of the Emirs household. For there was not enough of Darsul in one spot to fill a teacup. The Emirs palace dissolved into chaos overnight, his holdings becoming Yazdils by coincidence, as the Emir had the documents and paperwork and forms.

So this is why the Emirs enemies do not ever hint that they hold a grudge. Because the Naga is calm, watchful, and lets many offenses slide. But when he strikes, his fangs always hit home.

-

That was the legend that came through Roshal that week. Of seven tales of Emir Yazdil, each one explaining who he was, and what it was to cross him. On the seventh day, Roshal woke to news of Darsuls death.

People congregated, as they did, [Emirs] and [Slave Owners] and citizens alike, [Slaves] as well. They talkedand the only people who really did business were the [Storytellers].

The old woman took a long sip of a sweet, alcoholic drink at this point and the crowd listening to the Seven Tales of Emir Yazdil leaned in. She was a Stitchwoman and her thread was old, but her throat produced a beautiful voice.

So, now you all have heard the seven tales of the Emir this week. And they are greatbut each week does the Emir Yazdil act thusly! The Emir Darsul should have paid more attention; in his arrogance he crossed the Naga. And few live to do so, as you know.

Storyteller! Storyteller, did the Emirs Gnoll tear apart Darsul?

It is not for us to know. Only what remained. And it is true, as I have said!

The old woman calmly replied. She had a storytellers grace, which seemed to make her more knowing than others. A hand was raised in the back.

It is true. Butpoint of fact, old lady? I didnt run screaming per se. I raised the alarm! And I never saw the Gnoll get past me.

The [Mercenary Captain] was in the audience, along with a number of servants. The old woman huffed.

I am telling the story as I saw it. Or did you not come racing into the marketplace, hands covered in blood, wailing that a ghost had slipped past you?

Everyone turned to the [Mercenary Captain] as he turned bright red.

No one crosses the Naga.

Another [Slave Mistress] murmured. All agreed about that. This tale just added to the Emir Yazdils fearsome reputation, all the more because it was clearly true.

Clearly. In the crowd, a hooded figure reached into a bag and munched on breakfast. It was normally a really stupid idea to wear a hood in a crowd since it made you stand out.

But this was Lailight Scintillation, and sometimesoftenpeople came here to do business and did not want to stand out, so enchanted hoods were actually common, to hide peoples identities.

Iert wanted to point out a salient fact. Which was that his name was Iertalinam, and Iert was the Emir Yazdils nickname. But he was content to let the [Storyteller] earn her fee. She knew how to make money; people were already tossing coins for her to embellish Yazdils reputation some more and tell other tales of his exploits.

Stories. Oh, how they got things wrong. A surprising number of things true, and yetthings wrong. It was good though; the Naga liked having stories about him. Iert memorized this one; hed probably have to tell it later.

What are you eating?

Someone whispered to him. The Gnolls fur rose, but he calmly offered the bag sideways.

A filled pastry.

Whats the filling?

Blackberry jam.

Hm.

It was possible the disguised female Djinni had not eaten actual food for centuries; certainly, Darsul had not fed her. But still, she picked at the pastry before nibbling it.

Return to the palace by nightfall. Cause no trouble.

As agreed.

She looked at him. She looked like a female Drake, scales vermillion. But he was not fooled. The Gnoll walked away as the crowd broke up. And he returned to the palace of Emir Yazdil.

Stories. They would have people believe that Iert had flipped over the wall after scaling it with his bare paws, stealthily avoided all of Darsuls security, cunningly tricked Djinni and the [Mercenary Captain]perhaps with a little rock, then slipping past them while they looked away for a secondbefore slaughtering the Emir as he slept.

The truth was always less interesting. Not less impressive, but less interesting. Iert had slipped into Darsuls palace. He had maneuvered through corridor after corridorbut he hadnt bothered with entering Darsuls abode and trying to bypass the rather impressive defenses there.

Hed simply found something else, which Darsul in his panic had forgotten to secure. A single servant in the rush to fortify everyone, and a defeated spirit.

The Djinni did not live in a lamp, although that sometimes happened. Each container was different. For instanceyou could get flutes, lanterns, whatever was their prison. Sometimes it was a boring sphere. The object didnt matter, the powerful relic-class magic did.

This was a bowl. A nice bowl, which, if you looked into the center, made you feel as though it had no bottom. You could grow dizzy, staring into

It was her cage. The female Djinni, who had been blindfolded, had wisely removed herself from the area until he could take command of it. She was still bound to kill him, and even a blindfolded Djinni was good at that.

She had slipped into Darsuls rooms unseen. It was the most efficient and besidesit had been one of her stipulations that she had agreed to with Yazdil. The Naga was happy to let her do it, and Iert too. Someone had to, and blood in your fur was impossible to get out on first wash.

It was also a mistake to say that Darsul had been an easy opponent. Iert entered the palace, walking past the security he had trained himself. He trotted to the vault and placed the bowl there, for the Emir to use later. The Djinni had been a considerable threat, and one that could well have caused chaos and too much damage even if they killed her.

Here was the part the story didnt tell you. During the meeting with Emir Darsul and his harem, they didnt say Iert took the time to communicate with the Djinni on display. They didnt know that during the hunt with the Grand Elephant, one of Darsuls servants was paid very handsomely and given instructions for later that week.

Knowing that would make people less afraid of the Naga. Because they would see how his plan worked, understand how he thought. Better to keep it as stories.

The Gnoll walked up through the palace, past the many [Slaves] in the Emirs employ. And he was one of them. Even if the stories had been mostly true about his response to Darsul.

But here is what they also didnt say. As the Gnoll entered the Emir Yazdils personal chambers, he found the Naga.

The Naga, who was sometimes a Human man, sometimes aNaga. At the moment, he was a Human man. Slightly dark of skin, rather thin, his hair in this form a light blonde, generally styled

Slitted pupilsfor eyes.

His hands were like a [Scribe]s or [Scholar]s but he wasnt frail, just thoughtful. He was exceedingly charming if he cared to be, and athletic. He liked to practice such thingsat least, the athleticism. Although he was hardly a [Warrior], so he had nearly been trampled by the elephant. His artifacts might have saved him if Iert hadnt, but the Gnoll did not take risks.

At this moment however, the great Emir of Roshal, [Slave Lord], the Nagawas bound, gagged, and naked, tied up in the center of his quarters. And lest someone think this was an extremely kinky hobby or shared moment, no one was around, and a blindfold covered the Emirs face.

Coincidentally, a Dagger of Wounding sat on the low-set table in front of the Emir. Also, a Scroll of Teleportation, and the Emirs personal key to his vaults and palace. The Emir wiggled as the door opened, but was quite helpless.

The Gnoll paused in the doorway. His eyes fixed on the daggerand the Emir, who was divested of his artifacts. The scroll, the keythe Emir lay, helpless, trying to move.

Emir Yazdil. Has someone rendered you helpless? Or am I to leave you here and call for a [Concubine]? Or shall I untie you?

The Gnoll stepped past the table, ignoring all three objects, and gently pulled the gag down. The Emir Yazdil blinked up at him as the blindfold was also removed.

Untie, Iert. How is Darsul?

Dead. They are telling stories about you in the marketplace.

Are they?

The Naga smiled. He stretched as Iert cut away his bindings and stood, unabashedly naked. The Gnoll bowed his head.

The Seven Legends of Emir Yazdil. One for every day of the week. I can repeat it for you, if you wish.

I would like to hear it myself. And Makerieen?

Enjoying her day in Roshal. She will be back by nightfall.

Good.

The Emir stretched. Iert looked around and found his clothes, neatly folded in a corner of the room. The Emir preferred loose clothing when he was a man. He walked over to retrieve them and heard a cracking sound.

Likesinews and tendons snapping. Iert held still, waiting. He turned; and the Naga was rising, his serpentine scales flickering orange-yellow in the light.

Shining, polished, sinuous. The Emir preferred to be a man in most companies. Because to look at him as a Naga was to see him for what he was. Far more dangerous than the scholarly man.

He smiled at the Gnoll. Iert picked up the clothing and tucked them away; they werent needed now.

Was that a test, master?

Of course it was. Were you at all tempted?

The Naga looked at Iert, teasingly. The Gnoll sighed.

No.

Not even a little bit?

What would I be tempted for? Tell me, has anyone ever failed that test?

Not when it was actually me. Ah, my scales are dry from sitting so long. I thought youd be back hours ago. You had breakfast, didnt you?

Blackberry tarts.

Without being asked, Iert fetched a container of very high-quality scale cream. The Drakes made it, as well as Lizardfolk. The Emir let the Gnoll apply it to his dry scales, sighing. His tail slowly began to curl around the Gnolls legs. It was a habit; Iert ignored it.

Yes, he could well imagine it. Someone would come across the Emir. Just like that. And in their wrath, even if they hesitated for a long time, they might take up the dagger, or scroll, or key, or all three. And stab the Emir to death, or teleport, or use the key.

Then they would wake up.

The Naga twined about his most beloved servant. Some things they said were true. Such as the fact that Emir Yazdil prized people more than artifacts or animals. Darsul had collected a harem. Yazdil desired more than that. Gender did not matter. Attractiveness did not matter.

Competence and loyalty did. And the Naga was possessive.

Do you want anything, Iert? Youve worked hard this last month.

If I think of it, master, I will tell you.

Please do. Tonight, you, the Djinni, and I shall dine. No parties, no gatherings for a few days. It is all done. Darsuls holdings

I will inform his people and replace them as need be. Or send Cuaqua to do it.

Send her, or do it tomorrow. You will relax, today.

As you will.

The Emir sighed. The Gnoll diligently applied the scale-cream without even rising to any of the bait. He was too seriousbut that was how Yazdil had made him and he would have it no other way.

The Naga uncurled. Now was not the time. Later, perhaps, he would see what Makerieen was like. He was always curious about Djinnialthough he would never offer her the test he sometimes teased Iert with.

I am going down, Iert. You will indulge yourself today.

Will you leave the palace?

The Gnoll calmly met Yazdils eyes. The Naga pouted.

No. Not without informing you.

Then I will indulge myself.

The Gnoll finished; the Naga shook himself, luxuriating in the fresh feeling all over his body. Calmly, his servant bowed.

Dinner, then.

And left. And finally, Emir Yazdil was alone, triumphant, not the figure of stories in Roshals markets, but just the Emir.

What was the difference? Well, the first was that when Yazdil was alone, he hummed. His head bobbed to the rhythm of the cheery song as he slithered out of his rooms. His body glided down polished stone rather than carpet; all the easier for him to move around like this.

The second was that he had [Slaves]. He was a [Slave Lord]. An [Emir], rather. Not nearly as many as his fellow rulers of Roshal, but each one hand-picked.

Each one unique. There was a [Master Archer] Garuda, cleaning the floor. Here was a [Slave] who had beaten everyone, including the Emir, in games of chess.

Extraordinary, and loyal. Each one would have untied the Emir and called for the alarm if theyd found him naked and gagged. He had not lied to Darsul.

Only a poor master thinks that owning someone is the same as possessing them. The stories had gotten that wrong, too. The fool Darsul had never understood that.

Down through his palace, past the smaller staff, who took their leisure even as they worked. If one had seemed distraught, unhappy, or discontented beyond maybe mere annoyance with stubbing their toes or so on, the Emir would have stopped and asked why? His servants would never go to another master for want of more.

Yet they were all [Slaves]. The Emir hummed as he went down another ramp; stairs were a terrible thing for Nagas, Centaurs, and other species who did not suffer the tyranny of them well. He was smiling, relaxed.

These were the differences between Fetohep and Yazdil. Well, some of the differences. Where Fetohep sat, Yazdil seldom held still. Whilst Fetohep preoccupied himself with his nation, Yazdil did not. Darsul had been a rare, annoying occasion where he had to work against a young man determined to make the Naga his foe.

And whereupon Fetohep had probably forgotten all the pleasures of mortal flesh, Yazdil luxuriated in it. Between two species even. He drank wine, he socialized, he made liaisons with lovely people of every kind. He loved it all.

And lastly, Fetohep was bored. Yazdil was not. If there was any trouble in the Nagas mind in this hour of victory, it was what lay below.

Reflexively, Yazdil used his arms to reach for something he carried at all times. A simple Potion of Calming. It would not do to have another attack, such that he was rendered trembling until Iert dragged him into bed with him.

No indeed.

-

Down, down, through the rich hallways of the Emirs palace. He was rich. Fetohep-rich? Well, perhaps richer. Not in age, but Yazdil controlled a portion of Roshal, one of, if not the richest ports in the world. They were the center of the slave trade, and there was no other comparable economy save perhaps that for war.

And Roshal could do war as well. Their people crisscrossed Chandrar and parts of the other continents, taking ransomed prisoners, trading

The Emir had everything he could want. He had all the people he could want and was always looking out for more. He was not always happy; he could be in terribly petty moods.

For instance, he had sulked for nearly two weeks when it came out that Empress Nsiia had been made a political prisoner rather than taken captive by another nation. But if you asked the Emir Yazdil what he wanted to change about now, he would say, absolutely nothing. And have Iert show you the door.

And he meant it. Really, truly, he wanted this to be his life. And why not? Who could really want more? There were [Kings] who would beg for this life.

That was why it was so disturbing, so unfair. The Naga sighed as he stopped in the bowels of his palace, over the leyline of magic. Where his security was strongest, and where not even the greatest [Assassins] or [Rogues] or spells would penetrate.

This is where he created his servants. It was not a place Iert or any of the others liked to go.

Yazdil had modeled it after the Assassins Guild. He had studied other organizations and the Guild of Assassins in Roshal had ways of training their Ranks. Yazdil did not have the thousands of years to perfect his methods, but he did well enough. They had created a cheap, practically zero-cost training course for creating competent, if low-level [Assassins] who were very loyal.

It wasnt hard. Yazdil could do it. All he needed was a cornucopia-type artifact which could provide somewhat nourishing food, a pocket-dimension, and of course, a system whereby new [Assassins] were trained by old ones.

But as cheap as that was, Yazdil paid for moreeffective methods with his people. He passed door after door, some of which led into entire complexes by themselves. Plenty of space. People in progress.

He stopped at one. The Emir took a sip from the potion and sighed. This wasa special case. Normally, he selected only the best. Someone with a talent that defined them, or maybe just physical beauty, a perfection of something. And he would improve them, make them better than when they met.

That was skill. That was art. This would not have been Yazdils first choice. But the uniqueness

Well, he wasnt acting like he normally did. The Naga pushed open the door. He slithered in. Someone jumped as he entered the rather nice home.

Bedroom, living room, even a kitchen and bathroom. It was a nice place to live, if you forgot that there was no door out until the Naga opened it. It closed behind him as he smiled.

Hello, Kent. Are you feeling better today?

The young man stared at the Emir Yazdil. He lookedill. He had been sick with the flu. One of the lovely young women that the Emir had brought to make Kent happy had made him sick.

Imbetter, Emir. Thank you.

He looked pale. The Naga double-checked his amulet was secure; like Rhirs hells he was catching this.

I hate to trouble you, Kent. But I would simply enjoy it if you were able to spare me an hour or two. Its that day again.

Of course, Emir.

Kent smiled, a bit strangely. Yazdil sighed. He could have gone to another room. He wasworkingwith the others. This young man had been first, though, and Yazdil had been incautious, upset.

Have you had your drink today?

Not yet. Should I?

By all means.

The young man looked around, licking his lips. There, amid the rooms he had tried to make like home, artifacts, entertainmentusually lovely company, except that he had been sickwas a prepared amphora. It was always kept full, and now, the young man absently rose and filled himself a cup of shimmering green.

The green became a midnight purple as the liquid swirled around. Neither color looked foul; it was an elegant drink, with depth. It didnt even taste badly, to judge from his face.

Better?

The Naga inquired after a moment. Kent Scott started; he was staring ahead, lost. His pupils had widened and he looked far different as he sat down at the table. Now, he did not fidget, or suffer from the flu. He was elsewhere.

I remember beingborn.

That was all he said. Yazdil sighed.

I know, Kent. But try to focus. Where we left off; if you need more of the curative for your flu or feel sick, tell me.

I will. I feel better. I remember being sick. Ive been sickthirty one times ever.

The Naga nodded. Interesting how disease was so difficult in either world. But that was not what interested him. He produced, with his tail, a little journal and flipped it open. The Naga also produced spectacles; he had excellent vision, but they let him lock onto the little words even from a distance.

Kent, Kent. Focus. We are on history, today.

The history of what?

I believe, Rome. Tell me about Rome, Kent. You said you studied them?

The young mans pupils widened further. His irises practically swallowed; it was unnerving. He spoke, without a hint of uncertainty, but slowly.

I did not learn all their names. But Rome began with Augustus, Caesar in 27 BC. Followed by Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, and Nero. They comprised the first dynasty we studied in my history class. I was busy telling jokes and never saw the next page. The next Emperor was Titus, son of Vespasian. After that, I lost track of the order

But you remember what they did? Tell me about what they did, Kent. And then well talk more about machines. Have you tried drawing in more detail?

The young man licked his lips. He had sketches nearby, which hed labored oneven had [Artists] help him with.

I have. Emperor Augustus was the Emperor of Rome, after the last Caesar, Julius

Yazdil listened, making notes himself, asking questions. The problem with this was that Kent would repeat every little detail, not judging the content, only recalling.

Yet he did recall with such perfection. A true shame that he was not an excellent artistor that he had never studied chemistry, biology, or the sciences to the degree Yazdil might have desired.

But he had studied history and there was more. Oh, this was just for Yazdil to understand.

He already knew how Rome had fallen. And by the same token; he knew that Rome was far, far in Earths past. He knew that nowadays, Rome was a memory and there were different nations in power.

And they had firearms, planes, tanks, advanced sciences, electricitythe Naga took a sip of his potion to calm his nerves.

-

He spent two hours with Kent, then told the young man to lie down. The memory-draught always took a toll, and the young man had used it for a long time, and quite a lot of it. Yazdil was far more careful with the others.

The others. Children from another world. The Naga nearly downed the entire Potion of Calm right then and there. And if Iert was here to complain

Why now?

The Nagas tail curled up in vexation. To anyone else, the revelation of worlds apart might have been so grand. So exciting. To Yazdil, who wanted nothing? It terrified.

A world with hungry nations, entirely Human, and an advanced civilization lacking magic, but far superior in metal and science? Yazdil hated it.

Moreover, he knew people. He was an Emir of Roshal and he had seen his fellows rise and fall. If Earth were to fully come into contact with this world? How quickly the collar would change hands. An entire world of Humans. No guesses who they would side with.

The Naga decided not to visit the others. They were in progress, and his people did not need him interfering. When it was time, he would learn from them. He had most of what he needed already, really.

There were more spaces in the Emirs palace. He had dug down, down, creating secret places while keeping all that was fun and innocent above. It was not his passion to be ambitious. He had everything he wanted!

It was this meeting of worlds which had forced him to think ahead. He always did. Yazdils one goal was to keep things mostly as they were, and that wasnt easy. And the trouble was that these children were everywhere. Wistram had some. And the Blighted King othersthe King of Destruction

It was going to ruin things. Upheaval, unrestthe Naga glumly thought about the future. He had never wanted to conquer things. It was so much work when you could have childrennot that he had anyor create a happy place for yourself.

Let the King of Destruction rule and rage and the other nations clash. As far as the Emir was concerned, the stronger the better. If Earth did comeit would be war, or at least, a new world.

His only goal was to make sure Roshal, and he, survived it.

To that end, he had repurposed these rooms, expanded them. Past the rooms where he sometimes spent hours with Iert and his most trusted people, unlocking the electronic devicesor playing those little funny gamespast the maps hed made, ferreting out clues to where more children were.

He kept his ears open when he was Human. The Singer of Terandrianow there was someone he would love to have. What beautiful style! What talent! Ah, but that was a challenge.

There was the Wind Runner of Reizmelt. Also on his list.

The Last Light of Baleroshe was almost certain it was one of Kents [Doctors]. The Blighted Kings Heroes, Rmi Canada, Joseph

It was easy to find them. They stood out. And the ones who shone, he wanted. He had somerather ordinary ones. Yazdil desired the ones who had not only lived, but flourished.

That poor girl. Ah, if only those foolish Drakes werent so bloodthirsty!

The Naga complained. Just when hed found her, she was killed! And she seemed so extraordinary. Antinium? He had always wanted one, but feared they were tooinsectile. Now, he was itching to meet one and see if they could be turned into a masterpiece.

It was like that extraordinarily fun game on one of the little devices the Earth-children had brought. Iert thought it was a foolish game. Yazdil had felt like the game was meant for him. Collect and improve. Someone on Earth understood how he lived.

If he had to compare his class or explain it, it was like a [Gemcutter], or perhaps a [Chef]. You had raw ingredients and material. You made something better with it. Made people happy.

And yourself, of course.

He did not want war. He did not want strife. But never let it be said that he did not prepare properly, or did not understand such things. Yazdil had acquired experts in every field. And he employed what he did not collect.

In this case? The [Alchemist] had labored long. Heand the four assistantshad been part of the Mad Ones, who had ended up as [Slaves]. Now, the slightly-crooked man approached the Emir.

Yazdil. Yazdil! Success!

Is it the kind of success I should observe behind a forcefield?

The Emir had already changed his rings for a Ring of Protection. And he was ready to slither behind the barricades in the wide room. The [Alchemist] was rubbing his hands together.

No! Maybe! But weve finally figured it out. Look!

He pointed. The Emir peeked around the edge of a reinforced mithril-plated barricade and saw a still-hot tube-thing in the center of the underground room.

Ah. It didnt explode?

It didnt explode. And you should see what it did to the wall!

Emir turned his head. He sighed.

I liked that wall. Can you replicate it?

He eyed the tube. It was a large one, and there were dozens upon dozens of busted-out copies. Made of types of metalsteel, Dwarfsteel, mithril, even enchanted wood! But all had been torn apart.

Of course. But we have to test how much it can handle. And how many times it can work before it explodes!

The [Alchemist] threw up his hands happily. The Naga sighed. It was hard keeping him on track.

Good. Then test. And try the smaller ones?

Theyre too small. Why make a small one if you can make one the size of a wagon?

Yazdil rubbed at his head.

So you can carry it, Tinn. So you can carry it.

Ah. Well. Well work on that. But how many would you like? Weve been experimenting with thetheassembly idea. It works. Will you sell them?

No.

The [Alchemist] looked disappointed and hurt. Yazdil clarified.

That is, not yet, Tinn. Why sell it? Produce it, and we will store it away. Improve your designs.

We need more sulfur. Thats the tricky stuff. The charcoal is easy, and the [Alchemists] have the other materials. Were even experimenting with magical additives

If you cause another earthquake, I am going to make you work on the other projects.

The [Alchemist] hesitated. The recipe for black powder was one thingbut then hed decided to add blazepowder, and other explosive alchemical ingredients to the mix.

That was one reason why progress had been set back, and the thirty-plus [Alchemists] and assistants were down to five. Yazdil had been most upset and was scouting for people who fit his exacting criteria.

It will be used, though?

Oh yes. A time will come for it, Tinn. Until then, be safe. Work hard.

The Naga looked past him, at the smoldering cannon prototype as the assistants gingerly cooled it. Put in the powder hot and it might detonate. Another important lesson.

He had never desired conquest. And still did not. He would rather let the other world lie, but he had no idea why the two worlds were meeting. Yazdil wanted an end to it. But he prepared for the worst.

If the worlds met, or the ideas from Earth came to fruition hereand they surely wouldthings would change. The ideas of Earth might inform this world, and Roshal come to trouble.

Well, they had tried before. Terandria, other nations. To usurp or steal or shut down. Let them come. Roshal was his. This was his world. The Naga twined around Tinn possessively as the [Alchemist] muttered that he was too busy for sex!

If you would take my world away from me, come. The Naga would hold onto what was his until the last.

Authors Note: Its a chapter below 20,000 words. What madness is this!?

Well, I was aiming for it. And this interlude was planned a long time in advance. I combined two perspectives rather than just go for the Seven Legends of Emir Yazdil, and I hope it was interesting!

But I took it easier since were winding down to the end of the month. There have been some long chapters, even with the two week break! One more and then Im on my regular week off before February. The poll chapter awaits!

Until then, I hope you enjoyyou find this chapter interesting. It wasnt the easiest to write, despite being short. But now you know. And knowingprobably isnt a good thing all the time.

Thanks for reading! See you next chapter!

No Thought Mrsha by MistakeNot!

Niers, More Niers, Wilovan, Folian and more by KaDraginn!

A Crossword Puzzle by Kadraginn, Tomeo, Vondeklompz, Molikai, tt, MoMo, Richi, Hatzak, and Mr Wiggles! (Contains spaces and /crossword/bin/crossword.cgi?cmd=solve&filefrag=2021.01/2203/22033240.706.html

Reddit Thread with /r/WanderingInn/comments/l2m9hs/wandering_inn_crossword_puzzle/