56.2 Have Faith

General Summary

Day 1111

There is a very short, no-nonsense knock at my door. Wayla is standing there, all alone, dressed in common travelling clothes. She’s come alone, with no entourage, and I can’t wait to tell Amytri that.   She travelled light, thinking that she could get a dress made here if she needs one. Most importantly, she has brought her good cake pans. I imagine she and Alder and Miriam will be working together, but the odds that they have brought pans from the Empire are low. She sets up a corner of the kitchen but first, I collect her up to meet Qishali. I think the two of them will get along and Qishali needs a maternal influence who is not me.   The fae tailor who is working on Qishali’s dress is very sensitive to the numerous cultures we are trying to merge, having prepared many options.   The first is an inky black dress that any elvish bride would be thrilled with. The second is a bright, colourful concoction meant for the bride of the fae prince she’s marrying. Qishali is quite particular about the dress though — she doesn’t want a train, nothing to hide her tails. Between Andstella, Wayla, Yneir, and Qishali, I let my illusions take their direction to design the dress.   And she doesn’t want any veils — nothing to hide her ears. But she will accept a tiara! While the others design the dress, I prune a small branch from my little dusk tree and infuse it with my own green lightning and describe a tiara to it. The spiritual energy of the tree comprehends and the two elements work together to grow into a living, electricity-infused headdress that seats around her ears. Far from hiding them, the tiara could not fit anyone who doesn’t have Qishali’s vulpine tufted ears.   Once the tiara is finished, the dress naturally follows. Leaf motifs show up across the entire design and give her an organic, energetic appearance. She’s positively radiant once it all comes together.   And then Wayla kidnaps her to the kitchen to do some cooking and tasting in preparation for the cake.  

Day 1112

Late in the morning, the procession from Drognar arrives. They had clearly timed their arrival to be mid-morning rather than late at night, and Nina and Torrick look quite sheepish at the grandeur of their entourage.   They have brought little Twilight, of course. I finally get a chance to examine her magic properly and find that the Ventarri bloodline and Erak’s bloodline have combined in a terribly unusual way. The Ventarri blood refuses the innate subservience encoded in the Sentinel’s blood. So this little bundle of joy is a concentrated amount of magical energy akin to a human scion but without the devotion and worship. She is a fearsome natural protector.   Nina is happy and relieved to hear my diagnosis. But after a little while, she hands Twilight off to Torrick and asks to speak with me in private. Once alone, she tells me that a little while ago, her magic just….broke. Ever since she found that she was of the Sentinel’s bloodline, she could reach towards the radiant holiness of the Sentinel himself. And then that sense of holiness vanished, as though a veil had been lifted and she could see something dark and wicked beneath it. It was as though her own magic had been hacked apart into a hundred pieces. And now it is not gone, but it is reduced, and she feels like she is standing on the edge of a vast sea, trying to build a sandcastle as the waves rush in.   Examining her magic anew, I can see that her bond to the zephyr broke and could not rebuild because of her oaths. While her Imperial oath wouldn’t sever the bond itself, it won’t allow it to come back so easily. No one sworn to my Empire would be ensnared to subservience so easily.   I tell her that the Sentinel’s magic comes with the price of seeing him as a god. The two cannot be unlinked. And Nina has been around all of us enough for me to say it plainly:  

They’re not gods; they’re people.

  She nods, understanding. She compares how she feels about the Empress to how she feels about the human pantheon. She can see, independently, that the human ‘gods’ are not entities to worship. Now that the veil is torn, all that’s left to worship is strength itself. And that feels hollow for her — she wants to be a protector and a healer and needs a way to access those things without relying upon the Sentinel’s faith. I explain what happened to the Sentinel, and how I was involved. Unlike Elnora, she doesn't seem truly shaken by it, but I want her, Qing Chen, and Elnora to spend some time together anyway. Deprogramming that part of their faith will be easier with camaraderie.   She said Torrick could feel my presence from miles away and he said he felt stronger, happier, like he was coming home. She wants something like that too.   At her urging, I pay a visit to Torrick next so that I can examine whatever has happened to his bond to me. Magically, all Ventarri are connected to the Empress by a thin metaphorical chain of gold — it’s why they all wear the physical golden collars.   But Torrick is connected to me and I have always tried to mitigate my impact on him. The magical collar I sense around him is strong, powerful iron bolted on and connected to me with enormous links. It looks horrifying….but it is also a magical conduit that connects us. If either of us wanted to, we could draw on the other’s strengths. And as I examine it further, it is a connection that he forged, subconsciously. It’s forged from his own dedication and gratitude towards me, unwavering belief that I’ll always lead him well.   Torrick himself can’t see all the depth in the construction of this chain. But I can, and so I am nearly in tears as I go to hug him.   He tells me that he could feel me drawing closer for months and months, and knew as soon as I’d crossed the Unfreezing Sea. He can feel our connection keenly, and even sense the possibility in it, he just doesn’t know how to use it.  

I feel like I’m sitting beside the greatest draught of ale and cannot figure out how to drink. What a shameful thing for a dwarf to admit.

  Excited, I rush to bring up to the ziggurat and show him what this connection means. As always, he has brought a small collection of wands to guide what little magic he innately has. But now, at the top of the ziggurat, it takes us an hour of work before he can conjure a small pebble and hurl it several feet. The magical strength doesn’t come from his own small reserve of magic — it comes from me and is amplified through our bond.   He’s delighted, shocked, happy. He is not a wizard or a mystic, but mage who draws his power directly from me.