Goblin Days (Pt. 4) - Order, Oddity

The Grand Design was learning about a world full of gods. Well, not that full. But there had been enough. A pantheon born out of the first solar system to house life—and the first minds who had turned their eyes up to the sky and believed.

Interstellar wars. Entire planets who found their prayers were answered by beings that encompassed multiple species. A galaxy sprouting to life as the blood of gods dripped across the stars, and even the divine learned they were not alone.

Once upon a time, as the Grand Design might tell it, a child was born to the Goddess of Death; Kasigna’s mother, insofar as the divine had families.

Kasigna stepped into being both young and old. She sentenced her mother to death with her first breath and occupied a tiny world, Theiygiles, as, in the universe beyond, an entire pantheon devolved into chaos and death pondered how it might die.

Kasigna. Fragile as a thought, worshiped by only one people at first. The primitive amphibians of Vunn, first to welcome her into the cosmos. At the same time as her mother’s enemies sought to eradicate a new enemy, the girl met the Queens of Vunn, the hundreds in beauty and wisdom and power who had tamed this world—and the ones who would one day kneel under the black sun—

The Pantheon of Orois (closest approximate translation into English) heard the first warnings of a strange foe that pursued other gods across time and space. The rot between worlds.

There was a story there, and the Grand Design watched it in its entirety through a mirror that had captured a universe that would never be again, which could watch even the actions of gods.

Kasigna. Dead gods. Their names and natures could be empowered by simple knowledge or belief. But the Grand Design did not believe.

It simply wrote the details down. Every single being that had ever died across a galaxy older than it was. The deeds of gods and mortals. The movement of stars.

It was a monumental task. It was one the Grand Design could do. At last—if it had a voice, it would crow—

At last, a challenge. So, it transcribed the deeds of a world into its knowledge, adding their actions and ideas, on the off chance that a single [Witch] would stumble further down the road she had taken. Or that the corpses of the three Hag Queens would lead to something interesting.

As the Grand Design labored, it kept the world running. It assigned a level up to all deserving. Did not accord one to Rags. Both she and it agreed it wasn’t worth Level 40.

Besides. The Grand Design could not see the future, not really, but it could calculate and see everything everywhere. Except inside of The Last Boxes and a few other places.

Nothing could make the system of levels and firmament of this reality feel fear or sadness. It took no one’s side by taking everyone’s side.

The Grand Design would not cry, not for Erin Solstice’s many statues nor Tyrion Veltras’ slain wife. It would never weep for dying Goblins or Lord Olvos Lanight’s empty eyes. Nor could it rage against things being unfair.

But maybe, just maybe, it was glad to have work. The rest of the world would move on smoothly, even with most of the Grand Design occupied with its great task.

——

“Exterminate them down to the last Goblin. You won’t have any fire support from the walls, unfortunately, not with the Grand Strategist insensible. However, I have complete faith in the vaunted 2nd Army’s prowess.”

The order made General Shirka sigh. She stood before the head of Pallass’ High Command and looked across the Council.

Two [Senators], several officers she recognized, and the Drake in the center who’d spoken through the entire briefing.

General Edellein of 1st Army. The Drake’s brows crossed as he saw General Shirka look at someone who wasn’t on the new Security Council.

Strategist Esor was standing, allowed to speak, but not in command. Edellein raised his voice.

“Do you have objections, General Shirka?”

Protocol was to always say ‘no’. General Shirka nodded.

“Yes, sir. I request permission to refuse the order to engage the Flooded Waters tribe.”

The rest of the Security Council sat upright, alarmed. Generals arguing was not uncommon, but officers did not object like this to the Security Council. The civilians had their feathers ruffled; Edellein’s eyes just narrowed.

The former General of 4th Army knew the youngest of Pallass’ Generals, Shirka of 2nd. Edellein had forty years of command under his belt; Shirka had half that time. Despite that, she had made [General]—she had blasted out of Manus’ academies and then won awards for her successes in battle, including in the 2nd Antinium War and in smaller conflicts since.

When she had made 2nd Army’s [General], she had upstaged Edellein, who’d hoped to have his entire army promoted up. Despite his seniority, he’d learned she would privately shout at any [General] if they came to blows over a decision.

Of course, until now, they had all answered to General Duln and, more realistically, the true ruler of Pallass’ armed forces: Grand Strategist Chaldion.

Those days were past. Now, Edellein had the seat, and his first real order was getting pushback.

“Did they teach you to question orders in Manus, General Shirka?”

His comment was followed by a bark of laughter from a few of his people in the room. The rest of the audience—strategists, senior officials, Esor—were deathly silent. Edellein had a problem with Manus; he had never graduated from the City of War’s academies. He often claimed the reputation of Manus-trained officers was overstated.

General Shirka shifted her gaze from Strategist Esor as the Garuda turned his head away.

“No, General Edellein. The Titan taught me that in his academy. Permission to speak freely?”

“Why stop now?”

When she said nothing, he barked.

“Granted. What reason do you have for allowing a Goblin Tribe to exist in the High Passes?”

“Three, sir. Firstly, they are out of Pallass’ aegis.”

“We occupy a wider sphere thanks to the door to Liscor. Liscor, which I point out, is the reason the action is being taken.”

“Even so, sir. Entering the High Passes is a provocation to the north, and Lord Xitegen has occupied Celum. The potential for escalation is high.”

“One of the Humans’ versions of a Wall Lord is not a counter to Pallass.”

Shirka saluted, eyes staring past Edellein’s face.

“Nossir. Of course not. Defensively, he will lock down any army’s passage into the north. In two years’ time, Celum will be fortified on the level of any 2nd Grade Defensive City. I am sure you are aware of the analysis; I mention this for the Security Council’s benefit.”

Both [Senators], Errif and a Drake, turned to Edellein. The Drake General’s voice was deceptively calm.

“Two years is a long time. Your first point is refuted. Next?”

“The cost to 2nd Army will be high. The target, referred to as ‘Goblinhome’, is well-defended and entrenched; they have repelled a Wyvern Lord multiple times.”

“I have complete faith victory will be achieved, General. Better to nip a Goblin Lord in the bud.”

And it’s not my army. The two Drakes locked gazes, and the room, deep within Pallass’ walls, still produced a gust that blew papers around as people grabbed at them. The clash of wills made Senator Errif cough loudly into one paw.

“And the last, General?”

She turned to him, voice and tone level.

“Grand Strategist Chaldion saw no immediate risk in their presence. His recommendation was to leave them be.”

“Chaldion was slipping in his last few years. He had a known fondness for the inn and anything that [Innkeeper] touched. See where it’s gotten us. Our responsibility is to Pallass, to the Walled Cities, and to Drakes as a whole. The…Flooded Waters tribe is a significant threat that I will not allow to remain around Liscor. Do you disagree that it can be eradicated with no meaningful survivors, General Shirka?”

“Nossir.”

“Do you state, before the Security Council, that 2nd Army will take inappropriate losses to destroy the tribe?”

“Nossir. Our losses will not be egregious.”

“Then do you have any further salient arguments to the order?”

Shirka’s three points were all invalid. Edellein’s claw tapped the table, and Shirka saluted again.

“Yes, General Edellein. I propose we allow Manus to take the job on.”

A visible moment of hesitation crossed his face, and the Security Council sat up.

“Manus? Why?”

“Let them bleed over it, sir. 2nd Army’s duty is to Pallass. Political blowback and the cost of taking the fortress can land on the City of War. They still have a force in the region with Wall Lady Rafaema and Spearmaster Lulv.”

The 1st General’s tapping of his finger claws intensified until he stilled the gesture. He half-glanced at Esor suspiciously, but the Garuda’s face was absolutely straight, and he’d never floated that suggestion in his discussions with Edellein. At length, the Wall Lord growled.

“Despite 2nd Army’s reputation, you seem reluctant to act as Pallass’ spear, General Shirka.”

“The Titan taught me to preserve lives, sir. And to let other people paint the target on their chest. May I offer a counter suggestion? The New Lands—”

“The New Lands are a multi-army operation, General. You will have your place—after you eliminate the threat on our tail. You have your order.”

General Shirka glanced past Edellein.

“Is that the Security Council’s final vote?”

They had forgotten they were a democracy even here, it seemed. The Drakes and Gnolls looked at each other and hastily ratified Edellein’s decision as he fumed at her.

Shirka had two options here. Salute or resign her commission.

She saluted and locked eyes with Esor once. Then she turned and strode out of the room.

The Grand Design could predict the future in limited ways. In its simulated projections of the immediate future, nine hundred and forty-nine times, General Shirka saluted. And even when she didn’t—

The Grand Design could have told you what came next so many times, regardless. It taught itself the many languages of the people of Vunn, wrote down a history of a hundred worlds, and focused on other things. Not the movement of troops, the quiet planning of one of Pallass’ finest attackers. Nor the odds.

Silently, the system assigned levels and made a mistake.

It didn’t know why.

——

At some point, the wounded, feral girl, the last survivor of her tribe, the mute brat, the bringer of dire omens, the white Gnoll, the lone redemption of the Wind Runner, the daughter of a [Princess], and one of the inhabitants of The Wandering Inn, Mrsha du Marquin…

Became a child.

Not in the sense of losing maturity. Not really. It was just that, at some point, she went to school each day, played annoying pranks, got into trouble, and ceased to be Mrsha the Great and Terrible or the Doombringer.

Despite her best efforts, it must be said. Somehow, even with a magic wand owned by dead Dryads and the tragedy of the Solstice…it wasn’t her exclusive responsibility.

Lyonette refused to turn it over. She was making ‘preparations’ with Necromancer Elosaith, Elia Arcsinger, Vaulont the Ash, and no matter what Mrsha did, she wasn’t let in on the secrets. Nor was her snooping that effective. She and Sammial and Kenva and Ekirra and Visma and Rittane conspired, but they didn’t do much.

Hethon and Nanette were the ones who got worked up about it. At some point, Mrsha realized she had to gather a rare ingredient for alchemy class, and Octavia told her where to find some blue crabgrass that Mrsha got after she failed to steal some Sage’s Grass from Wailant’s farm.

And that was it.

No one exploded. No monster horde came boiling out of the dungeon to kill her and Kenva while they were cutting grass. Mrsha failed to run into a mysterious Named-rank adventurer or a suspicious person in a hood. Okay, if she did run into them, like at a certain poker night, it was in the context of Lyonette or someone else having done something. Not her.

She went to class, with Octavia as a teacher, and made an alchemical concoction that made anything you poured it on taste like sugar and turn blue.

Mrsha the Child still felt things. Like bad about Numbtongue arguing with Octavia about going out so much. Or worried about Erin. She checked on everyone, every day, and worked hard to help Ylawes, but she didn’t feel like people would die if she made a mistake.

She took naps now. It was about four in the evening, and Mrsha was dead tired from ‘physical education’ class. She blamed Magus Grimalkin. All the children had gotten apprehensive when he’d strode into the room, but instead of screaming ‘testicles’ and making them bench a hundred pounds, he’d handed out a bunch of squishy, dyed balls and told them it was time to play a game.

Dodgeball.

An hour and a half later, a very surprised Lyonette had found Mrsha was almost too tired to walk after finishing her warm-down stretches. Mrsha had toddled into the inn, flopped onto her back, and then been told she was sweaty and needed a wash.

One hot bath in the brass tub later and Mrsha was so sleepy that when she got a warm cup of milk from Calescent, she told her mother she needed a nap. Nanette, who had been badgering Lyonette all day, had hissed at Mrsha she needed support, but Mrsha had assured Nanette she’d help in the morning, gone upstairs, and passed out in her bed on her side of their shared rooms.

This was the life of Mrsha the Ordinary. Whose life was not that boring or normal, but who had chores. She helped clean up parts of the inn, watered plants in the garden, fed Apista and sometimes combed her fuzz, got an allowance, went to school, watched movies in the [World’s Eye Theatre], worried about Erin, got sad when bad things happened.

Cleaned the graves each morning, played dolls with Visma, checked on Gireulashia every evening, wondered what Visma saw in Ekirra, thought Watch Commander Venim was weak, played soccer unless the Little Crabs joined in because they were too good, did her homework, which wasn’t always that boring, begged Archmage Valeterisa to teach her spells, stayed up late talking big secrets with Nanette with their heads under the covers…

And now and then, levelled up.

[Scribblequill Student Level 12!]

[Skill – Inkless Fur obtained!]

She’d consolidated her [Student] class with [Scribbler] a week ago. Mrsha shifted in her sleep, dreaming about a pie she kept eating as Bird droned on about various breeds of puppies in a bored voice.

She was half-conscious of the level ups and, upon waking, would process her new level and Skill. The inflectionless, familiar voice of the System stopped speaking. There was a pause, fractional, but noteworthy because Mrsha had never heard a pause before, and she stirred slightly in her dream.

Then it said:

[Conditions Met: Druid → Druid of the Lucky World, Child of Omens; Ember of the Eternal Solstice Class!]

[Class Consolidation: Last Survivor removed.]

[Class Consolidation: Emberbearer removed.]

[Class Consolidation: Scribblequill Student removed.]

[Druid of the Lucky World, Child of Omens; Ember of the Eternal Solstice Level 70!]

[Skill – I Grew Luck Itself obtained!]

[Skill – Wild Call: Howl of the Continent obtained!]

[Spell – Summon Greater Earth Elemental obtained!]

[Skill – Supreme Authority of the Wild Circles obtained!]

[Title – First Druid of the World obtained!]

[Title Reward – Robes of the World’s Treekeeper (Resized) assigned!]

[Assigning <Druid> Titles…]

Mrsha opened her eyes as the Skills and spells kept going. Something fell out of the air and onto her face.

She suddenly could feel every blade of grass outside the inn and the birds in the air, tell which cows in Farmer Wirclaw’s field were pregnant and there was going to be a breach birth in ninety-six minutes, how many Rock Crabs were in the entire Floodplains—how many horses were in House Walchaís’ fields—

[Skill – Manor Eimland of House Veltras obtained!]

[Skill – Body: Ocean of Mana (Nature) obtained]

[Skill – Origin Racdelbear Fur obtained]

[Spell – True Earthquake learned!]

[Spell – Hand of the Colossus of Diamonds, Auxmet’s Fist obtained!]

[Skill – Lucky Rains, Fall! obtained!]

[Skill – The Palac—]

Mrsha had been staring at the most amazing robes that looked old as time itself and smelled like—

They popped out of existence. Her senses of the animals and plants around her, the feeling as though she could think a word and have the ground repeat it—vanished.

Mrsha lay on her back, eyes wide, as she stared up at the ceiling. She waited and waited, and after what felt like an eternity compressed into a second, the voice spoke.

[Scribblequill Student Level 12.]

[Skill – Memorize Elementary Homework obtained!]

Huh. Wuh? Mrsha blinked up at the sky. She had definitely not dreamed what had just happened. But she had a new level. And even the Skill was…

I’m never going to have to remember homework again. Mrsha leapt out of bed and punched the air. Yes!

Then she landed, felt at herself, and sniffed the air hopefully, but even the scent of those robes was gone. Mrsha plucked at her white fur and then, gingerly, pulled a hair out.

Ow. Okay, not the fur of an ‘Origin Racdelbear’ or whatever the heck it had been. What the heck…what the heck was that?

You had to admit, if you had to lose a Level 70…whatever her class had been, [Memorize Homework] was a good consolation prize.

Was it a consolation prize? She definitely recalled [Inkless Fur], which she would not have been that happy about. It had changed.

What the heck had just happened?

——

The Grand Design stopped analyzing the other reality Kasigna had come from and ran a full sweep. It looked for meddling by the dead gods.

It checked Erin five times.

It re-analyzed every single Skill it had been giving Mrsha, the class, and the very fabric of its decision-making process and compared that with its logical routines from several iterations ago, then backtracked to before the destruction of the deadlands and used all the data it could to ratify its conclusion.

…Nothing.

There was no error in its processes. There was nothing around Mrsha that explained what the hell that had been. The Grand Design ran as many searches as it could, including Isthekenous’ custom spells.

Nothing it could find. Seriously, it checked everything. Dead gods, the location of the box with Emerrhain—completely intact—Laedonius or whatever you could call it was still climbing; Cauwine swore on her sword it wasn’t her as she straightened from talking with her quarry, and she wasn’t that clever; Norechl and Tamaroth were gone, the hole was still only letting in space dust at most…

——

The ghost of a dead woman, three, one? Suffering and beaten either way, looked up as the Grand Design inspected her. She raised a trembling hand.

——

Nope. Nothing different. The Grand Design swept everything again, ignoring the begging. No clue, no trace of what it was.

After a while, it went back to work. It had undone everything before anything had happened. Revised Mrsha’s Skill just in case…

What the heck had that been? The Grand Design kept a metaphorical eye open as it dived into Kasigna’s past once more, but after finding and sensing nothing, it relaxed slightly. Perhaps ironically, it blamed Mrsha for the aberration, but she didn’t get any new Skills or levels, so it got back to work.

——

Mooooom? Do I look different?

Mrsha came downstairs with one of those cards that made any [Mother] worry. Lyonette broke away from her cold war with Nanette to look Mrsha up and down anxiously.

No blood, Mrsha hadn’t dyed her hair, and she just looked tousle-headed and sleepy.

“No, Mrsha, sweety. What? Did you do something?”

No. I had a weird dream. I thought I levelled up hugely. Just one. Guess who’s got a new Skill?

Relieved, Lyonette relaxed as Mrsha explained her new Skill, which triggered another alarm in Lyonette’s head about Mrsha’s academic diligence. But that was a different problem.

Mrsha eventually calmed down, not that she’d been that frantic, just deeply puzzled. She looked to where Nanette was sitting pointedly with her back to Lyonette, chatting away with Calescent and Ser Dalimont brightly. She sensed the strife and, for once, decided not to join in.

I’m gonna go for a walk. In Liscor. Can you send Dalimont with me?

“Sure, sweetie. He’s not doing anything important.”

Lyonette went back to feuding with Nanette, though the wand issue would be settled very shortly without the little witch’s ‘help’, thank you very much…Mrsha didn’t pay attention as Dalimont strode over.

“Where to, Mrsha? The park?”

She shrugged as if not sure, but Lyonette was just glad she wasn’t joining in with Nanette on the passive-aggressive act. Nanette thought she knew how to be frosty? Calanfer had taught Cenidau how to do a cold shoulder.

The Gnoll only turned back once at the door, as if she remembered something.

Mother?

“Yes, Mrsha? What is it?”

Can you tell Farmer Wirclaw his Fischer Cow with the two black spots on her nose, Bennsy, is about to have a breach birth? Her calf’s the wrong way around.

Lyonette blinked at Mrsha, and Nanette half-turned with a frown. It was Ishkr who glanced at the notecard.

“Are you sure?”

Nope. Maybe?

The [Head Server] gave Mrsha a considering look, then shrugged.

“Let me run this over to him. I’ll be three minutes.”

Lyonette just stood there. Farmer Wirclaw? He supplied most of the The Wandering Inn’s milk, and Lyonette was friendly with his small village; he’d been the [Farmer] who Erin had talked to when the Eater Goats attacked and the Redfang Five first came to the inn ages ago.

…But as far as she knew, Mrsha didn’t visit the farm. She was a [Druid], but that sounded incredibly specific. Was it a new Skill?

It didn’t seem like it. But Ishkr hopped out a window and began skating across the grass. Then he grimaced and shouted.

“It’s starting to rain! The rainy season’s begun—better get Rheirgest in their new village now!”

“Oh dead gods—someone call for Archmage Valeterisa! We need her bubble spell up now, and Elosaith, are you ready for—”

The entire inn broke into a flurry of chaos, and Mrsha groaned. The rains had come to Liscor, and a roar of rain began to patter on the roof. Everyone instantly dropped everything they were doing, and Nanette ran out to see the fabled rains and the Floodplains.

She’d soon get tired of it, but for now, the inn was abuzz, and Mrsha ran upstairs when Bird shouted the inn had a few leaks on the roof from damage from the Solstice. She ended up placing buckets of water to catch drops while people hammered patches into the roof, ran around, slipped on the ground, and generally prepared for the waters to rise.

——

Lyonette and Mrsha thought nothing of that odd encounter that evening. The [Princess] was so distracted with her ongoing feud with Nanette and the rains that she was understandably occupied.

Mrsha, for her part, was busy telling Kenva the rains weren’t that bad; Kenva was afraid of all the water, which endeared her to the Antinium. Then Mrsha was splashing over to the Rheirgest villagers and their mostly done homes to give them the floating rope bridge they’d need to stay connected with The Wandering Inn.

She needed rain gear, so Lyonette had her buy boots with Nanette, and Mrsha humored the witch complaining about not being ‘respected’ despite being a ‘witch’, and Mrsha realized they needed another bridge for the graves.

And they needed to add Miss Colfa and Mister Himilt’s farm to the [Portal Door] or else the two Vampires would have to walk from hill to hill for ages to get to and from Liscor.

Mrsha was not allowed to make that journey; by now, the valleys were turning to mud. Liska herself made the connection. She added a new slot to the door and shrugged when Lyonette and Mrsha stared at her.

“[Door: Add Function]. What? I’ve been there, and Erin can do it. Anyone else?”

Mrsha was drying herself by the fire and reflecting that it was great that they had the [Garden of Sanctuary] and door to Celum. Already, visitors were asking if they could get a discount on heading to Celum, which Lyonette was seriously considering.

Meanwhile, you had Pallassians entering as well as Celumites and Invrisil…ians? All to see the fabled rains. Why, even General Shirka came into the inn, not that Mrsha knew her that well. And even Lord Xitegen, who was stiffly polite to Lyonette.

He actually nodded at Mrsha before standing in the Floodplains and staring at the rains.

“Looks like hell to run in. I can’t imagine living here myself, but I do plan on seeing the famous Floodplains. I’ll give the Drakes that for tenacity.”

He adjusted his coat and eyed General Shirka as she leaned against a pillar just under the eaves pouring water from above. Neither one said anything, and neither one had some kind of critical task that only Mrsha could be entrusted with. She was just…a Gnoll girl wondering if this meant she and her friends should play in Celum from now on. Or Pallass; she heard it had an amazing playground from Kenva.

Mrsha had almost forgotten the oddity from earlier, perhaps just as a certain system intended, when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

“Mrsha? A word?”

You can’t prove I stole the cookies! Calescent doesn’t want to press any charges! I have an affidavit of my innocence signed by Watch Commander Venim!

Mrsha handed him a notecard instantly. Ishkr gave her a knowingly patient look.

“I’m not snitching on you. Though I’d watch out; Lyonette’s bound to catch wind of the thievery unless you pay off Asgra and Goldbody.”

Mrsha the Cookie Thief groaned. More people to pay off? This stealing business was way too much work! You paid the [Chef] to look the other way. You paid the accomplices their loot. Then you had to pay the witnesses, pay off the Watch, pay off your debts…

Ishkr chewed down on a fresh cookie as Mrsha glared at him. She was about to stomp off when he leaned over.

“Farmer Wirclaw sent a big jar of fresh cream over. Calescent’s turning it into whipped cream as we speak. He says, thanks to you, he got someone to help rotate the calf with a Skill. It could have been really bad if you hadn’t pointed that out.”

Mrsha stopped. She turned her head. Ishkr blinked pointedly at her. She blinked back, so confused that Ishkr grew confuzzled himself. Mrsha stood there and scratched her head until Ishkr left.

Wait…she’d been right? She’d thought—

There was no way that had been reality. No way. Mrsha knew she liked to talk a big game, but there was imagination and tall stories and…

It was a mistake. It had to be.

But there were no mistakes. She had—but the cow had—did that mean—?

Mrsha’s mind was suddenly filled with questions. She forgot completely about the cookies, about her ordinary life, about the rain and everything else. Suddenly…she had only one question, even if she had not the slightest clue where to start looking for answers.

What in the name of poo had that been?

No one knew.

Not even the Grand Design of Isthekenous.

Author’s Note:

Observe. A short chapter.

This is 5632% canonical.

I am getting tired at times but figuring out this ‘short chapter’ thing, at least for this one.

I may never surpass my brevity.

I shall write another one today and see you tomorrow. Enjoy!

Nanette commissioned by Rumina, by KaoriYakuna!