Keiran

Curious apprentices had asked me many, many times over the years what it felt like to be bonded to a genius loci. Place spirits, as they were sometimes called, encompassed so much more than the human range of senses, and connecting to one on a profound level had a tendency to fundamentally alter how we viewed the world.

I’d never come up with a satisfactory answer. I could talk about the expanded sensory information, how it dwarfed even master-tier divinations in terms of processing it. That was true. I could talk about how it made me feel like a giant with thousands of ants crawling across my body, each one some individual animal or monster inside my demesne. And that was true, too.

But mostly, it was ineffable. I imagined a god, if there truly existed such a thing, probably felt much the same, though on a far grander scale. There was a sense that I ruled the bounds of my demesne with absolute authority, though many a mage had found out in a spectacularly painful manner that that wasn’t true. There were limits to that expanded power, but the jump to stage six was a far greater advance than anything that came before it.

Returning home was like stepping into a warm, secure shroud of authority. It was comforting in many ways. Not coincidentally, more than a few mages had reached stage six and simply never set foot outside their demesne again, unwilling to be parted from their seat of power even temporarily. I’d gone several decades inside the Night Vale after I’d achieved stage six, working both to improve the land I’d claimed and to take advantage of the unrivaled mana control having a demesne offered me.

The petrified valley was no Night Vale. Despite my best attempts, it remained a mediocre stretch of land by my standards. It amplified my mana generation a thousand times over, probably more, but I still felt a sharp pang of loss for my former home as I settled back into my workshop. For my current purposes, this genius loci would suffice, but I was not done working on it, not by a long shot.

For all its faults, one of the best things about the valley was that I could draw literally every last drop of mana out of it without having to worry about damaging anything. The trees were already stone, but because they were living stone, they’d just keep right on producing new mana and filling the whole valley back up again.

I wasn’t going to do that, but if I needed to, I could. Before I did anything else, I had a great deal of mana debt to repay to my associates in our island’s only city, the former capital before the world had been broken, Derro. The Hierophant was still running the place, and he’d loaned me a huge portion of the mana the city had harvested over the last few years. It was time to start returning that.

Now that the ritual was complete and the valley’s mana levels were beginning to rise, I filled several huge storage crystals and set them aside. One would go to my family, my contribution to their refugee crisis. The other four were destined for Derro, but it would be a few more weeks before I had enough to clear what I owed, and I wanted to take care of it all in one trip. In the meantime, I would limit my activities significantly.

I spent the rest of my evening walking the length of my demesne, not that I needed to. It was beautiful in its own way, but it was also a stark reminder of the loss of the Night Vale. Ammun had destroyed my former home when he’d built his tower there, his lust for power overriding any respect he’d once had for the place.

The walk wasn’t just to reminisce. It was to see with my own eyes what I’d accomplished, and to solidify my plans for what would come next. I was not content to have a demesne that was nothing but a mile or two of dead, petrified trees. It wouldn’t happen soon, but someday, I’d fill this entire valley with a hundred feet of good soil and grow a new forest right over top of this one, one that was supported by the mana-radiating stone trees that served as their foundation.

That might someday rival the Night Vale in beauty, if I did it right. I smiled a little at that thought.

Someday.

* * *

The refugees called their new village Beacon of Hope, or just Beacon for convenience’s sake. It took two days of haggling and arrangements, the end result of which I never fully discovered, but which necessitated a flight across the island and over the mountains to find the fifty-mile-long peninsula jutting out of the southwest corner of the island.

I landed on the path they’d worn from their collection of wood-framed animal skin tents to the beach they’d taken to launching their fishing fleet from, sending more than one refugee scurrying away in fear and causing a half dozen more to converge on me, spears poised to skewer me where I stood.

It was only my darker skin tone and foreign attire that stopped them from attacking immediately. Given their previous experience with a group of mages demanding fealty from them and driving them from their home, I found the suspicion to be understandable. That did not stop me from reading the minds of everyone around me to ensure there were no surprises.

“Hello,” I said, hands held up disarmingly, even though the gesture did nothing to diminish my magic. “I represent a town some of your people have traveled to in search of aid. I am here to deliver the agreed upon assistance. Is there someone in charge I can speak with about the particulars?”

Three different warriors thought the name Baviru along with a mental picture of a middle-aged man with crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes and an infectious smile upon his face. The leader himself was already hustling down the path, having heard the commotion and dutifully come running to investigate.

“You’ll forgive these men, I hope,” Baviru said, making no move to shove past them and talk to me face to face. I could respect the desire for caution, and fought to keep an amused smirk off my face. Just standing behind a few men with spears and chain shirts was not going to save him.

“I understand,” I said. “I’ve been given to understand that your home was… occupied by a squadron of mages. The suspicion is natural, but trust me when I say I have nothing to do with that.”

Technically, that was a lie. If I hadn’t discovered Ammun’s crypt and led the leader of a terrorist faction of mages inside the tower right to the door, he wouldn’t have woken up and in all likelihood, there would be no conflict in the old empire of Ralvost.

“No, I don’t suppose you did,” Baviru said. “Pardon my confusion, but I thought I overheard you say you’re delivering supplies to us. You seem to be traveling somewhat light.”

I pulled a thick leather sack out of my phantom space, causing everyone to jump at its sudden appearance, and offered it to the nearest of Baviru’s warriors to investigate. Cautiously, he snatched it out of my hand and pulled it open. “Food!” he said.

It was just beans, but I was well aware that when a person got hungry enough, anything could taste like a king’s feast. No doubt, these people had been strictly rationing their food for months. “I’ve got nine more bags of those for you,” I said. “I also need you to direct me to a spot where you’d like your teleportation platform installed.”

“Teleportation… platform?” Baviru asked. He tilted his head curiously and traded looks with the warriors, who all seemed just as confused as he did.

“To connect you to the rest of the island,” I explained. “You’re going to have a bit of a hard time getting trade goods and supplies here with the mountains in the way.”

“I am only vaguely familiar with such magic. That is how the divine emissaries travel from their holy land to the villages, yes?” Baviru spat out the title like a curse, leaving no doubt how he felt about the mages from the Sanctum of Light and their treatment of those they disparagingly referred to as ‘dirt people.’ By that, they meant anyone with a dormant core who didn’t live in their tower.

“Correct, although this platform won’t connect to anything from your homeland. We have a network of them throughout the island linking various villages together for easier trading and travel.”

Baviru thought about that for a few moments while I waited, then shook his head. “Forgive me, I do not mean to be rude, but we do not want such a thing here. We deliberately chose this place for its isolation to give us time to rebuild. We are not ready to integrate with the rest of the world just yet.”

“I see. Well, that is unfortunate since the warriors you sent out to look for food and supplies already bargained for this platform and the workers are waiting for it to be dropped so they can come through to help you build proper shelter.”

The warriors all perked up at that news. It was easy to see why, too. There was a cool sea breeze blowing my hair around, far colder than I was used to anymore. It was pleasant for now, but I suspected I’d soon grow tired of it. I definitely wouldn’t want to try sleeping in it without magic to keep me warm. Based on the ruddy complexions of the refugees surrounding me, I suspected they were sick of it, too.

“What… What have we paid for such assistance?” Baviru asked.

That was smart of him to ask. It showed he was wise to the ways of the world not to expect something for nothing. In this case, though, the price was one I suspected they wouldn’t mind paying. It was one I’d requested for my services, and I’d be doing the bulk of the work.

“I wasn’t part of the negotiations. I only know my own price, which is information about what’s going on back in your homeland. I have quite a few questions to ask, but those can come later after we get your people settled. Now, come, let’s stake out a good spot and we can discuss your village’s housing needs. I’m guessing you’ll need probably a hundred or so homes? Maybe less if your warriors sleep in a barracks? You’d probably like some proper docks as well? Maybe a well-paved network of streets to keep you from walking around getting mud on your boots?”

“I… er… Yes, I suppose that…” Baviru trailed off.

“Not much for city planning, huh?” I asked him. That was fair enough. His hometown had probably been built generations before he’d even been born. It had never been a particular interest of mine, but I’d learned enough just in this life from setting up two different villages for my family.

I made my way through the warriors, who parted to let me through, and dragged Baviru along as we headed back to camp. He followed in a daze, half-heartedly mumbling confused answers as I bombarded him with questions about the logistics of his fledgling town. It was clear he was a bit overwhelmed by the whole thing, but I managed to get the salient decisions out of him. By the time I’d pulled a teleportation platform out of my phantom space and filled it with mana, I already had a rough mental map of how their new village would be laid out.

“By the way,” I said. “I understand that your people are primarily fisherfolk. But how do you feel about farming? The land here is surprisingly good for it.”

“Farming?” Baviru repeated, his eyes glazed over. “I… Yes, I suppose we could.”

“Perfect,” I said, keeping up the friendly façade. This wasn’t the first time I’d had to help someone almost against their will, and I knew how to overwhelm them into accepting what was offered without giving them time to think about it. “How about we rope off some plots over there for fields?”