Tree of Aeons
Interlude – The Industries
Interlude – The Industries
There had never been a better, more exciting time to be one of the craftsmen. Work had never been easier to find, the amount of money, and resources poured into the crafts almost seemed unlimited. There were so many new and interesting materials to experiment with and so many interesting challenges to solve.
At the same time, there had never been a more stressful and more terrible time to be one of the crafts.
“Lord Alka, I am telling you, that the delivery of the next batch of containment fields will have to wait at least two months! Our location has not received the supposed crystal-reinforced glass from the Nura for the past month!” Craftmaster and [Magical Weaponcrafter] Allana said, her voice a little louder than usual.
Alka, the dwarven domainholder, had come just that morning to check on the status of the containment fields. The experiments on the True Demons required a huge amount of new facilities to be constructed, many of these with new and unusual requirements.
On the wall behind her office was a massive work schedule that indicated what and where everything was. It was a physical representation of the entire production floor’s priorities, resources and manpower and was painstakingly updated by one of the Artificial Minds assigned to assist Allana in the extremely difficult task of production management.
The rest of the craftsmen hid. It was one of those days when one of the domain holders would come in to check on some urgent project, and their Chief Allana would have to shout back at them.
It wasn’t a common thing, but it happened regularly enough. He merely frowned. “Let me speak to Central and have the order expedited.”
“That’s not how it works, Lord Alka. You expedite this order here, someone somewhere’s order is going to be delayed! Then someone else and some other Craftmaster is going to be breathing down my neck on why their order was delayed!”
Alka stared. Allana didn’t budge. The two knew each other from way back. Back when Allana used to wander the worlds to build large weapon systems. It’d been a while since she did that before she was lured to manage some of the world’s most advanced equipment factories.
That was a pretty promise, but the stress levels were high.
“Really?”
“You know this.” Allana repeated, and then she walked to the giant board that she called her work tracker. “Containment fields have a total of ninety seven components, and we make half of them in house, here in the North Tigashfall Production Site. But we have seven main components that we ship in from [Master Glassmakers] and [Enchanters]. The three crystal-reinforced glass, the monster control magical formations, the key mechanism from the [Crystalshapers], and then there’s the two destruction countermeasures from Outer Freshka. Production is held up because the demand for crystal bombs is through the roof!”
Alka paused as he realized he had a big part in that. Now that he, Kafa, and Ezar were tasked with defending the peripheral worlds, they fought with bombs.
“Right now, a [Master Glassmaker] spends two days making one of these reinforced glass panels, which will then be transferred to the enchanters to layer in the nine enchantments required. This takes a day each, and we need time to allow for the enchantments to settle!” Allana knew she was explaining something Alka already knew, but she needed to be sure he understood the context. “From there, transporting it here takes a day by secure transport beetles. Each glassmaker can work on about seven to eight of these glass panels concurrently. There are only thirty [Master Glassmakers] of level 90 and above, so every ten days, there are only 270 panels produced, at best, and only if all of them worked on this project!”
Alka nodded. The domain holder heard of briefings, but they were often fairly abridged. There was no need for the domain holders to focus too much on the logistics and administrative details, but details are crucial if they were to intervene.
“But we know they don’t! The glassmakers are also making panels for the Gantreethor and Dionaea upgrades! They are also supposed to make the storage containers for the ultra-dense magical explosives!”
Alka stopped. “Very well. I shall be patient and have the mages work with alternatives.”
Allana paused. The two looked at each other. Allana then clarified. “Really? You’ll wait?”
“Yes. I heard your point, and the supply chains are complicated enough.” Alka looked at the massive wall behind her. That alone was intimidating enough that most junior craftsmen didn’t dare walk on Allana’s office floor.
The two looked at each other, but then Allana noticed her assistant quietly hiding in the corner. Her assistant, Numi, was rather fresh, a still rather young treefolk. Talented fellow, as he was already Level 48 despite only being in his 30s.
“Numi, is there anything?” Allana asked, and that caused Alka to turn. The treefolk wanted to wilt at the attention of a domainholder.
He stammered a little. “I just wanted to remind you that there’s a meeting with the Steelforging Forgemaster in a moment.”
“Ah.” Allana rubbed her head, the visit of domainholder Alka took up her entire morning. Her site and the Steelforging site were located next to each other. The steelforgers focused on converting raw ore into the various major shapes. Her side would then add to that.
Her site was partly assemblers, though they do a great deal of work of ensuring all the different parts didn’t conflict. Working with enchanted materials often required ensuring that their magical energies didn’t conflict, but because each enchanter had slight variations in their work and magical energies, they, as the primary assemblers, also maintained a group of enchanters that set up calibration formations. These ensured output and behavior of the various parts were managed and calibrated to play well with each other.
“Domainholder Alka, I’m afraid I have to go for another meeting.”
Alka shrugged. “I’ll see myself out.”
“No. That’s not allowed. Assistant Numi, can you show Lord Alka out, and please ensure he does not step into the production floor?”
Numi gulped. “Uh, I will try.”
“Good. Lord Alka, please be nice.”
Alka laughed. “Fine, I won’t poke around your facility.”
***
Allana had a long day. The meeting with the Steelforgers happened every two weeks, though they’d mostly gotten a good hang of it. They had to sort out what each other were going to make, and there was a lot of haggling over which projects were priority.
The Order, as Central put it, was a thousand legged jellyfish that tugged in a thousand different directions, and it was Central’s overarching duty to ensure that as a whole, this jellyfish swam in the right direction.
She’d make compromises, and sometimes, the Steelforgers gave in to her. They’d trade wine, tea, and coffee as favors.
North Tigashfall was a major production location for at least the past six to seven decades, and there was a strong workmen culture in the area. Some of the largest beetle depots were also located on Tigashfall, since so much of the industrial output of Tigashfall had to be shipped outward and so much of the resources from all over the continent and beyond needed to move here.
Unlike Freshka, which served as the hub of the nobility, the heart of the spiritual leadership, and also the de-facto primary magic school, Allana found Tigashfall to be a lot more to her tastes.
People here worked. They worked a lot.
And after work, they’d unwind in one of the many eateries and taverns all over Tigashfall. Just like many others, Allana needed food, and she went for one of her usual hangouts.
It served a hearty meat pie with a big mug of juice. Perfect for a day where she used her head a little too much.
“I figured I’d see you here.” Alka said and sat down without being invited on the seat opposite hers.
“I didn’t say you could sit there.”
“I know.” Alka ignored it. “How’ve you been?”
“Can’t you tell? I have you coming to my office demanding his orders be expedited. What do you mean how I’ve been?”
“Aside from me being a painful twat, yes, I do genuinely want to know how you’ve been.”
“Good. I like this job.” Allana said earnestly. The waiter placed a meat pie in front of her, and walked away.
“That’s good.” Alka smiled, and got up. “Alright, I’m not going to interrupt you and your dinner any more.”
“Oh, now you can sit.” Allana said, and ate a bite.
“Oh?” Alka looked back at her, and then sat back down. “Any plans to go back to service?”
“Nope. I like it here. I get to build some real cool stuff. I saw some of your guys, the ones from Darkgard.”
“Ah. Yes. I like them too. They have this penchant for big things. Every time I give them a project or a goal, they’ll try to make the biggest, most outlandish thing possible, and then place it on top of their war machines or one of the colossal walkers. They remind me of you and your team, actually.”
Allana almost choked on her meat pie. “Hells. Is that your impression of me? I’m not always building big things!”
“Speaking of those big things, have you seen the Sun-Rings?” Alka asked.
“I am surprised you didn’t pry into my travel logs. Yes, I have. Very, very impressive stuff. I’ve been thinking about them a lot. The Steelforgers are working on a similar alloy blend. A group of my craftsmen were testing out some prototype tools and structures with that kind of base.”
“Really? I didn’t hear of it.”
“There’s thousands of ongoing projects and prototypes from all the large magic schools and factories, and the list changes every month. It’s normal you didn’t hear most of it. Hell, I don’t even know what anyone outside this city is doing with magic research! I have my hands full just catching up with the Steelforgers, the Runic Enchanters here, and the Golem Workshops.”
“So what else are you doing in this location? Surely not just containment cells for the demons.”
“Let’s see, we have the alloy-upgrades for the two beetle carriers and their beetle dropships. We have the golem-jumpsuit upgrades. There’s also the Superspear project.”
“Superspear?” Alka’s eyebrows raised at the name. The waiter served food. It was likely not proper to talk about projects in public settings, but the entirety of North Tigashfall was almost majority Order employees and contractors.
“Yeah. An attempt to build a superpowerful weapon for Hytreerion. A mounted cannon, but as powerful as we can get without using [star mana].”
“Didn’t we do that already?” Alka answered, and Allana could remember at least four different earlier versions of the Superspear project. They went by their own names, of course. It was just easier to call them different things and much easier to get Central approval.
“Well, yes. But it’s always an ongoing upgrade to keep up with whatever we see.” Allana clarified. “This round we’re testing out a prototype fusing Darkgardian Sunsteel weaponry with additional focusing crystals. It should give us much higher power output and density.”
Much of what they said would also be hard to actually do. Anyone could say they could craft a sword, but doing it was a whole another matter. “I met Mundor. Fascinating fellow. Clearly loves big war machines. Spoke about you quite a bit.”
“The Block Master?” Official source ıs 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩~𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢~𝔫𝔢𝔱
“Yes.”
“Ah. I have a habit of calling him Block master, back when I infiltrated the Delvegardian Yards. What’d he share?”
“Juicy details about how you cheated everyone and how you pretended to be a junior craftsman in the Yards?”
Alka coughed. “My bad. I had to do it.”
“Eh, I’m not laughing at you. I actually enjoyed the stories shared by your Block Master. It sounds fun, honestly. I’d love to try that whole spy thing.”
Alka squinted and stared at the [Magical Weaponcrafter]. “You cannot be serious.”
“I’m not. It is fun to imagine though.”
The domain holder relaxed. “I honestly cannot imagine you spying. You lack any of the subtlety required.”
“Are you insulting me?” Allana finished her meat pie and now attacked her mug of juice.
“Only if you take it negatively.” Alka said. “To be fair, I had training for my infiltration on Delvegard. And a lot of support from the spymaster. They were guiding me and giving me tips every step of the way.”
“Well, that’s the kind of support structure you have as a domain holder.” Allana said. She was not surprised that domain holders had actual babysitters to get them through unusual tasks. “Are you here to gloat and brag about them?”
“Not at all. Just wondering whether you’ve got any secret project going on.” Alka pressed.
“Have you heard of the ‘Wonder’ Megaproject? It’s something that Archmage Colette suggested.”
“Wonder?”
“Yes. Apparently the heroes claimed that their world had this connotation of the Wonders. Seven Wonders and stuff like that. Things that cemented their builders, designers and creators as the greats of their age.”
“I heard of that, but not of the megaproject.”
“Well, amongst us level 140 plus crafters and builders, there’s talk of doing some of these megaprojects. Even if they didn’t contribute to the war effort, we thought a Wonder that symbolized our industrial strength, or our magical development, or our technical achievement would be a great way to focus our intention.”
“Why not build something like the Sun-Rings?”
“That’s a god level project and far more than we can chew. But a Wonder, an object of great beauty and awe, sounds far, far more achievable for us.”
“Have you started on anything?”
“Not yet. It’s on the drawing board. Literally.”
“Tell me if you need some support.” Alka added. “Or funding.”
“Oh yes. If there’s funding, that would help. Because it’s not a direct war contribution, funding from Central is fairly limited, and my coffers, while sizable, are not at the level where I can fund a Wonder by myself.”
Alka thought for a moment and seemed to mull the question for a bit. “Is this serious?”
Allana nodded. “Yes. I lack subtlety, remember.”
The domainholder laughed. “Fair fair. I will see what I can pull in.”
“Great!”
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Tree of Aeons
353. Propaganda of the Periphery
In the pits of darkness, across the many worlds, the tale was often similar, even if they came in slightly different hues.
Death. Loss. Hunger. Cold. Loneliness. Despair.
Meun felt it all the same. He tried to stand and fight, but his body had nothing left to give.
There were a million ways for people to suffer.
How unfair! How cruel. He had given so much, and yet there was nothing!
Hungry and desperate, even if they’d been on the roads for days and months, the demons did not care.
The mortals that suffered across the peripheral worlds fled where they could, hid where they could not. The Order has seen the fleeing masses so many times that they no longer react to them.
Meun did not know how to react when he saw giant legs emerge from the skies.
A titan warped through the gates, A giant fortress with massive legs crushed the demons as it stepped out of the rift.
Those that ran, ran harder. Fear. They were soaked in it. They had felt fear all their lives that the Order knew that it would take at least a generation or two to undo the effects of such long-term exposure to an unstable life.
Many of them were not saints. Many were greedy, many were ambitious, many more would sacrifice their friends if it meant saving their own lives. But under the terror of demons, there was nothing for them.
Death was the only thing the demons desired from the living.
Meun cursed and thought this was the end.
The fortress cannons began firing, and the army of demons burned. A sight that many would sear into their eyes, the first moments when their crushed hearts allowed itself to believe. Their dried eyes, unable to offer up even tears of joy, because it only seemed like an illusion.
A mistake. Surely just another bunch of demons fighting amongst themselves.
The peripheral worlds were painted by such scenes many times, as many of them were just as desperate. Even those that were in far better states had territories where all seemed lost.
The demons burned, and the screeches of destroyed demons were horrific.
But to the survivors, it was music. They sang their names, the heroes of the broken worlds. Angels of fury and power. The giants of light and divine weaponry. They’d come from afar and fought to free them all from the terror of demons.
The war of demons was a tragedy repeated one time too many.
Then, the furious valkyries arrived, and their fury seemed boundless. They came in fleets, accompanied by titans.
Those looking up from the hideouts and battered forts could not help but think; what could these people be if not angels?
Their name became legend, their feats turned into song.
Here was the day. The day when the fury of the heavens came for evil. They did not call themselves angels. They called themselves the thorns. The impaling spear that skewered the monstrous.
Meun stood, his legs standing but there was no strength left in him. He held his spear, trying his best to stand. His friends, his fellow warriors all tried to do so.
Then she appeared.
Even the most valiant of defenders felt a weight on their shoulders as the angels’ leader, a woman draped in armor, approached them.
In their eyes, her divinity was clear. She glowed like the radiant sunbeams through a peaceful forest, an imagery imprinted even in those who had never seen forests. Her eyes did not glow, but they felt themselves scrutinized by divinity.
“Warrior.” She spoke, and each of them was transported into that forest. Even though they were just one of many in that moment. It was as if she spoke to each of them individually.
These imaginary sunbeams landed on them, and their hearts trembled. Their knees, if they still had them, were on the ground. They kneeled to her, and even without the words, they knew they had already sworn to follow.
“It is not over yet. We have more to fight.” She said.
Fight what? Fight who?
It did not matter.
The Warrior Meun felt her words print itself in what was left of his heart.
If she told them to fight, they would. The survivors felt her touch as her hand touched their head.
“Come. You may choose to join us, or you can stay and rest.”
She claimed it was a choice, but to them, it never was.
If there was a point when a warrior turned into a zealot – if there was a moment when their life finally turned, this was it. They do not know, but their hearts now believed.
Some of them had learned of the old gods. Once upon a time, some of them might have even prayed to them and hoped for their blessings. In better times, they might have made a journey to a temple or an altar of the old gods to make an offering.
Some of them did not believe in gods, they had long believed that they lived in godless worlds, and that no one was coming to save them. After all, they’d lived years surviving in a world ravaged by demons, and there was no one coming to save them.
In all their hearts, the lady’s words were rampaging hunters of the mind, and now their mind tolerated none of that old nonsense.
In their hearts and in their minds, in their soon to be constructed towns and future cities, they erected a statue in her honor, for she was the Matron of the Unchosen.
The fury of the abandoned.
“Yes.” They all answered, and it is as if their hearts were imprinted.
Meun felt the words echo through his body, his flesh.
His soul hummed to receive it.
When he was once really young, when the cities and towns he lived in were not yet rubble, he once heard that people knew when they found their lives’ goal.
It sounded so ridiculous then.
As if one’s purpose was so easily known.
He was wrong.
[ You have joined the Army of the Unchosen. Special abilities and advantages are now active. ]
A mark appeared on their arms, the mark of admission. The sign of their new life’s goal.
“Come, warrior. Rest can wait.” Her voice declared. “Save your people.”
***
Their matron was a relentless leader, and they pushed themselves harder than ever.
Cities that should have fallen lived to see better days. Towns that should have burned found themselves still standing.
They were gathered from many cities and many towns. Hundreds. Thousands. The numbers did not matter. They knew in their hearts that when their lady commanded, they had to follow.
“Train.” The matron introduced them to one of her peers.
A creature that seemed more armor than man. He towered over them all, even taller than the matron herself. “You have been chosen to join Lausanne’s Army of the Unchosen. My job is to whip you into an army. With what little time we have left.”
Blades. Swords. Spears. They were survivors, and they’d used whatever they had to live. To fight. To defeat demons that came for them. In the presence of the armored trainer, they were young children trying to write simple alphabets.
“Train!” He roared and they followed.
They trained for two days, patched up, and through a portal, they were sent to another battlefield.
***
After every battle, their Matron walked the healing tents, many of those nearing their deaths climbed with all their will to get a sight.
Her peer followed close behind.
“A pity we couldn’t spare more of the Order on these battlefields.”
She sighed, and all of them felt the immense sorrow of their Matron in their souls. She claimed one death was still one too many, but not one of them would ever say it was in vain.
Those who could still talk, wanted to tell her this was their choice. None of them regretted putting their lives for her cause.
But in her presence, their words found no voice. Many would live, but enough died after every battle. Their worlds were large, and this was not the only battlefield. The Matron’s closest warriors, her ‘angels’ would lead the other battles.
“Why do we not have enough healers?” They heard their matron ask.
To Meun and his fellow believers, they would rather bleed and lose their limbs than beg their matron for more.
“We only have fifty, ten of them are already here. With thousands injured, it is a fact of life.”
But the war wasn’t over yet.
The healers marked those who were fit to fight, and sent them back out.
***
Fight!
Their hearts roared, their blood burned. Their hands attacked with all their might. Victory after victory, but it was not enough.
Their matron destroyed the riftgates, her beams of light crushed and purged the foul creature’s pathways.
Their matron’s fury came for the demons next, her living spear tore through the lesser demons effortlessly.
There were some who say, if the matron is so powerful, why did they need to fight?
Fools! They would all answer in unison.
They may not be much, but who else protected the cities and towns while the matron hunted?
It was they who kept the demons contained, so that the matron and her valkyries could cull the demons with a single strike!
Even if their brothers died by their side, even if they lost their hands, even if all they could do is to form a wall of flesh to stop the demons from taking a single step, when their matron called, they would answer.
They could not go back to the days when they were alone. They cannot return to days when all they could do was struggle helplessly against the tide.
Their matron’s allies and forces were numerous, but thousands more were needed. They needed thousands to guard every city, every town. They needed thousands more to hunt down every last rift that spread more of their foul ilk into their worlds.
There were at least hundreds of these rifts on every of their worlds! Read complete versıon only at 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵✦𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖✦𝙣𝙚𝙩
After every major battle, they would gather before her, stronger and higher leveled.
They would listen to her.
It was a briefing. It was a discussion.
But for many of them, it was also a sermon.
When they all spoke, it was as if they were gathered in that tranquil forest, and she stood on top of a golden platform. Her radiance was absolute, and divine.
Her voice was the whispers of the world itself, compelling them to do whatever she declared.
“Once we free this world from the demons, half of the strongest amongst you will join us to fight on the other worlds. There are places that need our reinforcement.” Their matron declared plainly.
But Meun and his fellow army men saw and felt her anger, her frustration at how slow things were moving and her desire to serve. They nodded.
Meun may not be very strong. He was only about level 50s, but it did not matter. He never felt more chosen, more divinely ordained for this task than before.
The Unchosen Army grew, and their numbers gained with each new city and town freed. Every week or so Meun noticed a hundred, or two hundred fresh warriors joining their ranks.
***
They all knew their next battle was unique. Special.
Because they felt it.
The demon king’s presence was like a giant pyre of magic. It was unmistakable.
Even though they were a day’s march away, and they would be on guard to prevent the lesser creatures from disrupting their matron’s fight, the creature seemed to pulse.
They could sense the demon king. They could sense their matron’s intense focus and preparation.
“Tomorrow, myself and Ebon will challenge the demon king. It should be a fairly straightforward battle.” Their Matron declared in certainty.
To Meun and his fellow Unchosen, it was as if their Queen declared war.
His fellow unchosen turned religious since they joined this army, and by their own will and efforts, they created a small temple. Some of their Matron’s angels were healers and priests, and they worshipped their one true divine god, the Tree.
But for the Unchosen, they were bound by power and faith to their matron. To them, their faith was not to this distant god. To them, their faith was to the furious valkyries. To them, their worship was to the lady with the living spear.
So, in army camps and in towns, it was the statue of the Spear Lady that was always decorated with flowers, surrounded by oil lamps and candles, and little pots of plants. It was the statue of the Spear Lady that the soldiers prayed to for their own safety and protection.
Before every battle, the soldiers would pray to the makeshift statue of the spear lady.
They prayed for her well being, for her fury to overcome the symbol of darkness, for her power to crush them and chase them back to where they came.
It was what they believed, and the priests and crafters made little trinkets.
A small woman holding a spear larger than itself.
An Amulet of their Spear Lady, the Matron of Peace through War.
It did not matter what others said or even what the Matron herself declared.
Did it matter that the Matron herself asked for worship of her patron god, Aeon?
Faith was felt in the soul. Faith was carved into the bones, and it also seeped into its marrow. It was entwined deeply in blood, and the soldiers and warriors who witnessed divinity in the flesh, knew who to pray to, even if no words were ever said.
***
It was a clash of gods, even if their matron’s angels claimed they were far from it.
The matron claimed it was nothing more than a battle with a demon king.
But to the soldiers and her faithful from afar, what else could it be?
When each of their strikes could level mountains and carve canyons from flat land, the specific details of whether they were gods or not seemed pathetically pedantic.
They were gods reshaping the land. The titles were trite.
The ground shook, the later stories would even claim the demons wailed and begged as if they could talk and negotiate.
They saw the flashes and beams of light that made clouds of shockwaves in the skies above, and tales would turn them into how their spear broke heaven apart and everyone could see the stars without the light.
They would claim that the radiance of those beams were so bright that the sun seemed to dim in their goddess’ presence.
They did not need to see it in person, to feel how the world was twisted into something else by the raw power at display.
The two gods and the angels were in an intense battle, and those who joined the [Army of the Unchosen] could feel their matron’s strikes with their hearts.
Their souls hummed whenever their matron attacked.
It lasted for hours.
Some said it lasted for days. The stories of the later years would warp them in the future into weeks of battle. The tale of how the Spear Goddess slew the source of corruption and banished the demons back to their demonworlds would be retold in many forms to their children and grandchildren.
Some worlds would carve the tale into rocks and stones for eons to see. Some worlds turned them into relics and holy books.
Young children on their bed would ask their fathers and mothers for tales of how the Spear Goddess slew the Demon and brought about Eternal Peace.
Even if there would be many other battles against the demon kings in the years to come, even if peace was an ongoing effort with many more battles, it was the first great battle that entrenched itself into their world’s cultural and storytelling tapestry.
A tale commonly retold in many forms, in many of these long forgotten and soon-to-be abandoned worlds.
Many theologically focused historians would claim this was what the story of what the heroes of the old gods should have been. Perhaps, if the heroes were not hamstrung by the limitations of their [class] and the challenges of their characters, some of these heroes could have been the new stars of the world.
Historians and scribes more focused on the story of empires would also say, this was the story of when the old gods began to give way to the new, a turning point in the epoch of faith. The point when the stagnant constellation of stars began to change and accommodate the birth of new mythos, and a new pantheon.
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