The next morning, bright and early, a knock came at Drake’s door. He was already up, and thanks to Hector, he was once again dressed to impress. He had given his manservant a budget to buy him noble clothes in Korhaurbauten, and naturally, the man had excelled. Drake knew nothing about fashion in his own world, let alone this one, but he didn’t have to know.
His clothing today wasn’t as formal as it had been at the banquet, but he still looked good. He wore a blue vest over his black silverweave, paired with a heavy and billowing cloak with a tree clasp at the neck. He had brand new black boots that rose to mid-shin and gleamed in the morning light. They even had short platforms, making him stand even taller.
“I’m up!” Drake called in response to the knock.
The door opened. Hector entered, looking as dignified as ever in his new servant uniform. It was a little like an old timey tuxedo. “You’ve a caller, lord.”
“Capital guards?”
“Indeed, lord.”
“They’re expected. Thanks for laying out the clothes for today.”
“Of course, lord. Shall I be accompanying you today?”
“Not today.” Drake brushed back his hair. “Apparently, the gods only see manor lords.”
Thanks to the heroics of the manor lords (and his and Emily’s heroics, specifically) the capital had once more reclaimed its bay. Commerce would resume once the capital could pull together enough fighting ships to guard it from kromian reavers. The important bit was that after all his time stuck in this city, his obligation to remain in the capital had ended.
As of today, he could finally go home. But before he started the week long journey back to Gloomwood Manor, he’d decided he’d be foolish not to take an opportunity to actually see this world’s gods before he left. Who would pass up a chance to see actual gods?
Drake walked outside to find the rest of his people already up and about. Bustling in the kitchen suggested his cooks and others were preparing breakfast, and the smell of fresh bread and eggs made his stomach grumble. He half-pondered swearing off his appointment and staying to get some grub, but that would be unwise. Standing up Felix Proudglade the first time they were supposed to meet wouldn’t do much for inter-manor relations.
As he headed for the door, Lydia hurried from the kitchens carrying a small... was that a burrito? His cooks had gone to all the trouble to make a real soft tortilla? His steward hurried over and offered his breakfast, which was nestled in a clean cloth handkerchief.
“Lady Marissa said you might wish to eat on the move, lord.” Lydia wore her standard battle maid outfit. “She suggested that we prepare this... ‘breakfast burrito’?”
Drake chuckled as he took the warm handkerchief. The flour tortilla nestled within looked lumpier than ones from home. He suspected his cooks must have labored to make one tortilla from scratch. His mother had been busy instructing this morning... or last night.
“Thanks, Lydia. And thank the cooks too. This looks great.”
Drake brought the burrito to his mouth and took a big bite. The tortilla was thicker than it should be, but inside, he was certain, were eggs and bits of meat. Ham? It wasn’t bacon, but close enough. Damn, he had missed good breakfast food.
He appreciated his mother’s consideration. Maybe, once they got back to Gloomwood Manor for good, he could teach his people to make French fries. The ingredients were potatoes and salt, right? They had those at the manor, and maybe someone had a... deep frying rarity. Also, he needed to teach his people how to make a decent pepperoni pizza.
“How’s Emily doing this morning?” he asked.
He’d found out only after yesterday’s battle that the kraken had actually picked Emily up in a tentacle before she chopped it—likely by her own design—and that when she’d killed it with soul rend, it had tossed her hard enough to break both her legs when she landed. Naturally, for Emily, this was a funny story.
“She still sleeps comfortably, lord,” Lydia assured him. “Raylan has already finished treating her for the day. Even with his regenerative aid, it will take some time for legs to fully heal, but she is otherwise perfectly safe.”
“And her mental state? How’s she doing?”
Lydia sighed. “She remains incredibly pleased with herself.”
Drake grinned. “Don’t want to wake her then. The boasting would never end.”
This morning was getting better. He took a big bite of his burrito. It tasted like home... his old home. He chewed thoughtfully as the silence held.
“Shall I get the door, lord?” Lydia asked finally.
The capital guards were waiting outside. While it might make sense to delay until he’d finished breakfast, this burrito was perfect for eating on the go. Drake nodded.
Lydia opened the door to reveal two capital guards, as well as a capital inquisitor he knew from the time he almost got his head chopped off. Inquisitor Grayson. Was Drake in trouble? It would fit with the pattern of his life if he was now randomly in trouble.
“Lord Gloomwood.” Grayson inclined his head. “I’m here to escort you to the sacred chamber. Are you ready to depart?”
Drake swallowed his latest bite before speaking. “Sure.”
Grayson stepped back as Drake stepped out. He then blinked in surprise as Lydia walked out right behind him. “Did you get permission to come see the gods?”
“As a friend of the noble court, I can accompany you as deep as the outer ring.” As she tilted her head, her hair fell across her face. “Or would do not wish my company this morning?”
“Your company’s always welcome. I just don’t want you to be bored. I could be awhile.”
She smiled at him. “I don’t mind waiting. Even if I am not able to venture inside the sacred chamber to stand before the Eidolons, I would still like to be close to them.”
“Then I’m happy to have you along, steward.” Drake nodded to Grayson. “Lead on.”
Grayson pivoted smartly and marched off. When the capital guards didn’t move, Drake inferred he was supposed to follow. He walked after Grayson with Lydia at this side and enjoyed a few more bites of his delicious breakfast burrito as the guards fell in behind them.
After walking in silence for a stairwell or two, Drake glanced at Lydia. “No pressing manor business this morning?” He had considered not talking in the presence of Grayson and his guards, but they weren’t going to discuss anything sensitive or secret.
She calmly met his gaze. “I’ve left River in charge this morning.”
Drake grinned at all that implied. “She must have impressed you if you’re willing to leave her in charge of the manor staff.”
“For the morning only, and she and Tamara will be working together today. However, I would not have left River in charge if I doubted her abilities, and if this is to be a true test of her ability to run the manor, it will be better if I am away. She must know she can’t fall back on me if she encounters trouble.”
“Tough love,” Drake agreed. “I like it.” He also liked that Lydia would finally be able to take some breaks from her duties as steward. He had no regrets about recruiting River.
He shoved the last bite of his burrito in his mouth, then considered what to do with now empty handkerchief for the second it took Lydia to pluck it from his fingers. She tucked it back into the pocket of her apron. Wait. Had that been her personal handkerchief?
Dammit. He was losing this battle fast. The best thing he might be able to do when they got back to the manor was promote her to... what? She was already at the top of things.
They continued through hallway after hallway and stairwell after stairwell, descending steadily into the depths of the temple. This route was similar to the one Drake took when he went to visit the Judge’s office in the depths, but he suspected they would be going even deeper into the temple today. The sacred chamber was at the center of the entire complex, buried beneath ten stories of stone, checkpoints, and fortifications.
Was he really going to see this world’s gods today? Even after all the magical insanity he had witnessed since he arrived, the idea of walking into a room to stare at literal gods felt like someone’s idea of a preposterous practical joke. If they were true gods, capable of making this world and everyone in it, why were they even in the temple? Why not in some other realm?
The most sensible explanation, Drake decided as they walked through halls lit only by torchlight, was whatever physical presence the Eidolons had in this world—what slept beneath the temple—was simply one small part of them, a physical manifestation of a divine being that existed in a realm far beyond this one. If they were gods at all, and not something else.
Ultimately, whether they were true gods, parts of gods, or giant animals the locals had mistaken for gods didn’t matter. They were simply the backdrop to one of the most sensitive diplomatic negotiations he had tackled since he became Lord Gloomwood.
Today, if all went well, Sky would mediate a summit between himself and Felix Proudglade, Lord Proudglade’s successor. If he didn’t make a complete idiot of himself, they could, perhaps, start mending relations between their respective manors. Sky had made it clear Felix was more progressive in his beliefs than his father, and in the battle to retake the mouth of the Alicean Bay, Drake had saved Felix’s father.
According to Sky, Felix, unlike Lord Proudglade, would not hold the crimes of all the previous Lords Gloomwood against him. He was willing to judge Drake by what he had done personally instead of the actions of his predecessors. If only Drake wasn’t also responsible for getting Westin beheaded, he might have this negotiation in the bag already.
After a long walk, they reached a single closed door that was metal, not oak. The guards who stood before it wore dark ferrocite armor like the rest of the capital guards he’d seen, however, this armor was visibly more ornate. This armor must be ceremonial or just really old.
Grayson turned to face them both. “Steward Lydia, I must ask you to wait out here.”
“I understand,” Lydia said gracefully. She offered Drake a warm smile. “Enjoy your appointment with the gods, lord. You’ll have to tell me what you make of them.”
“I’ll do my best not to wake them up.” Drake turned to walk to the door, then frowned as he saw Inquisitor Grayson gaping at him. “What? It’s a joke. I’m joking.”
Grayson grimaced. “One does not joke about ending the world, Lord Gloomwood. Please do not make such jests in front of the door guardian.”
Drake glanced at the four capital guards. “That’s these guys?”
“No,” Grayson said. “The door guardian waits inside.” He looked reasonably vexed. “She does not take well to blasphemy. I would not wish to displease her.”
Drake walked past Grayson and approached the metal door. One of the armored soldiers leaned over and rapped on the metal with the butt of his spear. It made an echoing clang as he shouted a name through the metal frame.
“Haley, visitor!” the guard shouted.
Drake glanced back at Lydia. “And that won’t wake them up?”
Lydia visibly shooed him with an expression somewhere between disapproving and amused. He waited as the door opened. A little girl dressed like the clerical workers he’d seen working outside the Judge’s office stepped out, holding the door. This must be Haley.
The young girl bowed her head. “Lord Gloomwood. You are expected.”
Haley had short brown hair and looked only a few years older than Anna, which made her an odd choice to literally stand beside a chamber holding the world’s gods. Drake hoped she wasn’t secretly some two-thousand-year-old dragon or witch in the body of prepubescent little girl. Even after all he’d seen, he wasn’t up for that sort of bullshit.
As Drake stepped forward, two guards simultaneously crossed their spears in front of him with a clang. Drake glared at them. “She just said I’m invited!”
“Before you enter the sacred chamber, you must speak your name,” Haley said.
“Oh.” Drake frowned. “Someone could have warned me.”
He glanced back at Lydia to find her pressing her palm to her suddenly flushed face. Evidently, she hadn’t known about this bit of ceremony. As for Grayson, he was pointedly examining the hallway down which they’d come. Had he done this on purpose?
Drake glanced back to the guards. “I am Lord Gloomwood.”
“Please, lord, your birth name,” Haley asked patiently. “First and last.”
Drake mentally debated before deciding they weren’t going to let him in here otherwise. “I am Clint Eastwood.” They really should have explained this ahead of time, but there were no books speaking about this particular ritual.
“And Clint, you have come to commune with the Eidolons? Not to bring them harm?”
If a mortal like him could harm the gods, they weren’t really that impressive as gods. Still, Drake doubted snark would get him anywhere today, and Grayson had given him a stern warning about blasphemy. Plus, he didn’t want to upset a little girl.
“I am here to commune with the gods,” Drake said. “I will not harm them.”
The two capital guard spears separated as smoothly as they’d come together, clearing the way. Haley stepped back into the chamber beyond, still holding the heavy door open with strength that seemed remarkably for a girl her size. Drake hurried inside before the guards could challenge him again... or stab him.
Once he was inside, Haley pulled the door closed. It slammed with another loud clang. She then threw several locks that snapped home with the finality of the locks on a bank vault. Drake doubted anyone could get inside if no one opened that door.
Once Haley finished locking the door, she took up position beside it. She said nothing else. Drake glanced behind him, at a tunnel leading down, then at her. “So... can I go now?”
“Of course, lord,” Haley said patiently. “But first, could I ask a question?”
“So long as it’s not an offensive question. What’s on your mind?”
“Who is Drake?” the little girl asked plaintively.
The next morning, bright and early, a knock came at Drake’s door. He was already up, and thanks to Hector, he was once again dressed to impress. He had given his manservant a budget to buy him noble clothes in Korhaurbauten, and naturally, the man had excelled. Drake knew nothing about fashion in his own world, let alone this one, but he didn’t have to know.
His clothing today wasn’t as formal as it had been at the banquet, but he still looked good. He wore a blue vest over his black silverweave, paired with a heavy and billowing cloak with a tree clasp at the neck. He had brand new black boots that rose to mid-shin and gleamed in the morning light. They even had short platforms, making him stand even taller.
“I’m up!” Drake called in response to the knock.
The door opened. Hector entered, looking as dignified as ever in his new servant uniform. It was a little like an old timey tuxedo. “You’ve a caller, lord.”
“Capital guards?”
“Indeed, lord.”
“They’re expected. Thanks for laying out the clothes for today.”
“Of course, lord. Shall I be accompanying you today?”
“Not today.” Drake brushed back his hair. “Apparently, the gods only see manor lords.”
Thanks to the heroics of the manor lords (and his and Emily’s heroics, specifically) the capital had once more reclaimed its bay. Commerce would resume once the capital could pull together enough fighting ships to guard it from kromian reavers. The important bit was that after all his time stuck in this city, his obligation to remain in the capital had ended.
As of today, he could finally go home. But before he started the week long journey back to Gloomwood Manor, he’d decided he’d be foolish not to take an opportunity to actually see this world’s gods before he left. Who would pass up a chance to see actual gods?
Drake walked outside to find the rest of his people already up and about. Bustling in the kitchen suggested his cooks and others were preparing breakfast, and the smell of fresh bread and eggs made his stomach grumble. He half-pondered swearing off his appointment and staying to get some grub, but that would be unwise. Standing up Felix Proudglade the first time they were supposed to meet wouldn’t do much for inter-manor relations.
As he headed for the door, Lydia hurried from the kitchens carrying a small... was that a burrito? His cooks had gone to all the trouble to make a real soft tortilla? His steward hurried over and offered his breakfast, which was nestled in a clean cloth handkerchief.
“Lady Marissa said you might wish to eat on the move, lord.” Lydia wore her standard battle maid outfit. “She suggested that we prepare this... ‘breakfast burrito’?”
Drake chuckled as he took the warm handkerchief. The flour tortilla nestled within looked lumpier than ones from home. He suspected his cooks must have labored to make one tortilla from scratch. His mother had been busy instructing this morning... or last night.
“Thanks, Lydia. And thank the cooks too. This looks great.”
Drake brought the burrito to his mouth and took a big bite. The tortilla was thicker than it should be, but inside, he was certain, were eggs and bits of meat. Ham? It wasn’t bacon, but close enough. Damn, he had missed good breakfast food.
He appreciated his mother’s consideration. Maybe, once they got back to Gloomwood Manor for good, he could teach his people to make French fries. The ingredients were potatoes and salt, right? They had those at the manor, and maybe someone had a... deep frying rarity. Also, he needed to teach his people how to make a decent pepperoni pizza.
“How’s Emily doing this morning?” he asked.
He’d found out only after yesterday’s battle that the kraken had actually picked Emily up in a tentacle before she chopped it—likely by her own design—and that when she’d killed it with soul rend, it had tossed her hard enough to break both her legs when she landed. Naturally, for Emily, this was a funny story.
“She still sleeps comfortably, lord,” Lydia assured him. “Raylan has already finished treating her for the day. Even with his regenerative aid, it will take some time for legs to fully heal, but she is otherwise perfectly safe.”
“And her mental state? How’s she doing?”
Lydia sighed. “She remains incredibly pleased with herself.”
Drake grinned. “Don’t want to wake her then. The boasting would never end.”
This morning was getting better. He took a big bite of his burrito. It tasted like home... his old home. He chewed thoughtfully as the silence held.
“Shall I get the door, lord?” Lydia asked finally.
The capital guards were waiting outside. While it might make sense to delay until he’d finished breakfast, this burrito was perfect for eating on the go. Drake nodded.
Lydia opened the door to reveal two capital guards, as well as a capital inquisitor he knew from the time he almost got his head chopped off. Inquisitor Grayson. Was Drake in trouble? It would fit with the pattern of his life if he was now randomly in trouble.
“Lord Gloomwood.” Grayson inclined his head. “I’m here to escort you to the sacred chamber. Are you ready to depart?”
Drake swallowed his latest bite before speaking. “Sure.”
Grayson stepped back as Drake stepped out. He then blinked in surprise as Lydia walked out right behind him. “Did you get permission to come see the gods?”
“As a friend of the noble court, I can accompany you as deep as the outer ring.” As she tilted her head, her hair fell across her face. “Or would do not wish my company this morning?”
“Your company’s always welcome. I just don’t want you to be bored. I could be awhile.”
She smiled at him. “I don’t mind waiting. Even if I am not able to venture inside the sacred chamber to stand before the Eidolons, I would still like to be close to them.”
“Then I’m happy to have you along, steward.” Drake nodded to Grayson. “Lead on.”
Grayson pivoted smartly and marched off. When the capital guards didn’t move, Drake inferred he was supposed to follow. He walked after Grayson with Lydia at this side and enjoyed a few more bites of his delicious breakfast burrito as the guards fell in behind them.
After walking in silence for a stairwell or two, Drake glanced at Lydia. “No pressing manor business this morning?” He had considered not talking in the presence of Grayson and his guards, but they weren’t going to discuss anything sensitive or secret.
She calmly met his gaze. “I’ve left River in charge this morning.”
Drake grinned at all that implied. “She must have impressed you if you’re willing to leave her in charge of the manor staff.”
“For the morning only, and she and Tamara will be working together today. However, I would not have left River in charge if I doubted her abilities, and if this is to be a true test of her ability to run the manor, it will be better if I am away. She must know she can’t fall back on me if she encounters trouble.”
“Tough love,” Drake agreed. “I like it.” He also liked that Lydia would finally be able to take some breaks from her duties as steward. He had no regrets about recruiting River.
He shoved the last bite of his burrito in his mouth, then considered what to do with now empty handkerchief for the second it took Lydia to pluck it from his fingers. She tucked it back into the pocket of her apron. Wait. Had that been her personal handkerchief?
Dammit. He was losing this battle fast. The best thing he might be able to do when they got back to the manor was promote her to... what? She was already at the top of things.
They continued through hallway after hallway and stairwell after stairwell, descending steadily into the depths of the temple. This route was similar to the one Drake took when he went to visit the Judge’s office in the depths, but he suspected they would be going even deeper into the temple today. The sacred chamber was at the center of the entire complex, buried beneath ten stories of stone, checkpoints, and fortifications.
Was he really going to see this world’s gods today? Even after all the magical insanity he had witnessed since he arrived, the idea of walking into a room to stare at literal gods felt like someone’s idea of a preposterous practical joke. If they were true gods, capable of making this world and everyone in it, why were they even in the temple? Why not in some other realm?
The most sensible explanation, Drake decided as they walked through halls lit only by torchlight, was whatever physical presence the Eidolons had in this world—what slept beneath the temple—was simply one small part of them, a physical manifestation of a divine being that existed in a realm far beyond this one. If they were gods at all, and not something else.
Ultimately, whether they were true gods, parts of gods, or giant animals the locals had mistaken for gods didn’t matter. They were simply the backdrop to one of the most sensitive diplomatic negotiations he had tackled since he became Lord Gloomwood.
Today, if all went well, Sky would mediate a summit between himself and Felix Proudglade, Lord Proudglade’s successor. If he didn’t make a complete idiot of himself, they could, perhaps, start mending relations between their respective manors. Sky had made it clear Felix was more progressive in his beliefs than his father, and in the battle to retake the mouth of the Alicean Bay, Drake had saved Felix’s father.
According to Sky, Felix, unlike Lord Proudglade, would not hold the crimes of all the previous Lords Gloomwood against him. He was willing to judge Drake by what he had done personally instead of the actions of his predecessors. If only Drake wasn’t also responsible for getting Westin beheaded, he might have this negotiation in the bag already.
After a long walk, they reached a single closed door that was metal, not oak. The guards who stood before it wore dark ferrocite armor like the rest of the capital guards he’d seen, however, this armor was visibly more ornate. This armor must be ceremonial or just really old.
Grayson turned to face them both. “Steward Lydia, I must ask you to wait out here.”
“I understand,” Lydia said gracefully. She offered Drake a warm smile. “Enjoy your appointment with the gods, lord. You’ll have to tell me what you make of them.”
“I’ll do my best not to wake them up.” Drake turned to walk to the door, then frowned as he saw Inquisitor Grayson gaping at him. “What? It’s a joke. I’m joking.”
Grayson grimaced. “One does not joke about ending the world, Lord Gloomwood. Please do not make such jests in front of the door guardian.”
Drake glanced at the four capital guards. “That’s these guys?”
“No,” Grayson said. “The door guardian waits inside.” He looked reasonably vexed. “She does not take well to blasphemy. I would not wish to displease her.”
Drake walked past Grayson and approached the metal door. One of the armored soldiers leaned over and rapped on the metal with the butt of his spear. It made an echoing clang as he shouted a name through the metal frame.
“Haley, visitor!” the guard shouted.
Drake glanced back at Lydia. “And that won’t wake them up?”
Lydia visibly shooed him with an expression somewhere between disapproving and amused. He waited as the door opened. A little girl dressed like the clerical workers he’d seen working outside the Judge’s office stepped out, holding the door. This must be Haley.
The young girl bowed her head. “Lord Gloomwood. You are expected.”
Haley had short brown hair and looked only a few years older than Anna, which made her an odd choice to literally stand beside a chamber holding the world’s gods. Drake hoped she wasn’t secretly some two-thousand-year-old dragon or witch in the body of prepubescent little girl. Even after all he’d seen, he wasn’t up for that sort of bullshit.
As Drake stepped forward, two guards simultaneously crossed their spears in front of him with a clang. Drake glared at them. “She just said I’m invited!”
“Before you enter the sacred chamber, you must speak your name,” Haley said.
“Oh.” Drake frowned. “Someone could have warned me.”
He glanced back at Lydia to find her pressing her palm to her suddenly flushed face. Evidently, she hadn’t known about this bit of ceremony. As for Grayson, he was pointedly examining the hallway down which they’d come. Had he done this on purpose?
Drake glanced back to the guards. “I am Lord Gloomwood.”
“Please, lord, your birth name,” Haley asked patiently. “First and last.”
Drake mentally debated before deciding they weren’t going to let him in here otherwise. “I am Clint Eastwood.” They really should have explained this ahead of time, but there were no books speaking about this particular ritual.
“And Clint, you have come to commune with the Eidolons? Not to bring them harm?”
If a mortal like him could harm the gods, they weren’t really that impressive as gods. Still, Drake doubted snark would get him anywhere today, and Grayson had given him a stern warning about blasphemy. Plus, he didn’t want to upset a little girl.
“I am here to commune with the gods,” Drake said. “I will not harm them.”
The two capital guard spears separated as smoothly as they’d come together, clearing the way. Haley stepped back into the chamber beyond, still holding the heavy door open with strength that seemed remarkably for a girl her size. Drake hurried inside before the guards could challenge him again... or stab him.
Once he was inside, Haley pulled the door closed. It slammed with another loud clang. She then threw several locks that snapped home with the finality of the locks on a bank vault. Drake doubted anyone could get inside if no one opened that door.
Once Haley finished locking the door, she took up position beside it. She said nothing else. Drake glanced behind him, at a tunnel leading down, then at her. “So... can I go now?”
“Of course, lord,” Haley said patiently. “But first, could I ask a question?”
“So long as it’s not an offensive question. What’s on your mind?”
“Who is Drake?” the little girl asked plaintively.
