AN: As always please leave your thoughts and reviews; good, bad, and strange.
It was quiet as he sat at the table. The cavernous rising ceiling of Nazarick's grand library stretched out behind him. It was not the grandeur and the splendor of the room that held his attention. No matter how deserving the beauty and wonder that surrounded him, his sole focus was on the simple and unassuming book in his hands. He slowly turned the page with reverent carefulness so as not to damage the simple paper the pages were made of. His eyes drank in every word and letter reading far slower than he needed to so that he could fully understand and consider every meaning and hidden message the book contained.
From the side out of the corner of his vision approached a robed and hooded figure, an arch-lich, one of the library's many caretakers serving beneath the undead Overlords that were the library's chief staff. His head did not turn, even though he was aware of the undead staff's approach. His hand slowly turned another page.
"Lord Demiurge. The time has passed."
A pang thudded in his chest as his 'personal time' came to a close, he was torn in that moment between choosing to continue reading the book, standing in dereliction of his duties and obligations, and those same forces, the loyalty that embodied his every thought fighting back. He knew that even this book which held more value than more than the entire rest of the library put together was not greater than the service to which he lived and aspired to.
"Yes. Thank you."
The undead librarian bowed its head turning and walking away leaving him alone. It was time to return to his duties. An obligation that filled him with joy. But he was filled with regret as he carried the deceptively plain black leather book back to the shelf it had come from and slid it back into the open slot, he had taken it from hours before. His eyes, glittering and shining with intent lingered on two more identical books next to it in a line. Then turning he walked away heading towards the exit of the library.
As he reached the library's exit and stepped out into the hallways of Nazarick's palatial ninth floor he looked at one of the homunculi that hurried without rushing down the length of the hallway on some task or errand, ever busy except for the rare moments where they, like he, were forced to set aside a few hours out of the day for 'personal time'. His eyes scanned the rest of the hallway studying, gauging, assessing. He found nothing out of the ordinary and it caused his lips to quirk for a moment in a smile.
His name was Demiurge and he was an Arch-Devil created by the most magically powerful of the Supreme Beings for one purpose, to serve as the Floor Guardian of the Seventh Floor and to make the lives of any heretics that dared to befoul the Great Tomb of Nazarick with their presence, suffer before granting to them the agony of a slow and merciless death.
His eyes, were covered by a magical item, gem stones that let him see through all forms of invisibility and illusion so that he could see through all forms of deception. His voice was made to command not only the defenders of Nazarick, all the NPC's that like him had been created both high and low to serve and defend this most wondrous and ultimate of places, this domain and palace of gods. He could also command the weak of those who stood against the Supreme Beings, twisting and turning them against one another, causing division and chaos that always was aimed outwards and never inward where it could harm the Supreme Beings and their works.
Even though his duty as the Commander of Nazarick's defenses was temporarily suspended while he served as the personal aide and servant to Lady Skittering-Weaver, that did not mean he did not still conduct his duty even though he was no longer required to. Some distant day in the future would come and Lady Weaver would no longer need him at her side and would send him back to his post within Nazarick's walls. It only followed then that he did not let his standards or vigilance slip in all his duties, even those he was not presently responsible for.
His destination was not the portals and stairs leading to the other floors, but instead a very specific door here on the Ninth Floor. While not as expansive as the floors above it, the Ninth floor was still of considerable size. In addition to the library there were communal dorm rooms for all the servants that tended the Ninth Floor, as well as separate quarters for the guardians of the Ninth Floor, the Pleiades Battle Maids and their overseer the Butler Sebas Tian, an NPC who was just now walking towards him coming from the opposite direction down the hallway.
Demiurge's lips tightened, not into a grimace or a frown, simply an expression that conveyed the multitude of his emotions as he looked upon his fellow NPC. While all NPCs regardless of their stations and responsibilities, were equal in their service to the Supreme Beings, there were still differences in status and station between them. Demiurge was a Floor Guardian, and the supreme defensive tactician of Nazarick. His responsibilities included the defense of the Seventh Floor, but the entire Tomb, a lofty position indeed. He was further graced by being only one of only ten NPC's that were level 100. A tremendous honor indeed. In many ways he had few equals of any kind within the ranks of the NPCs that served the Tomb.
Sebas, the stalwart NPC whom he was about to pass in the hallway, was one of the few who might in some ways be considered his equal. Sebas was also graced with the power of a full 100 levels. And while he was not a true and official floor guardian, his position was nearly the same. In some ways it was even superior as the care and treatment of the service to the Supreme Beings fell more directly on Sebas than it did Demiurge. In this way the NPC that had the appearance of an old human man, was given even more potential to prove his worth and devotion than Demiurge would normally have been. He was also one of the final lines of defense for the Supreme Beings if the Guild Base was under attack. A detail that was not lost on Demiurge.
A lesser NPC like that blood drunk berserker-deviant Shalltear might have misunderstood their positions and relations of the two NPCs. They passed one another in the hall, each giving a single nod to the other. They knew they would never be friends with one another. But they did not need that. They did understand one another. They knew that together they would serve Nazarick and the Supreme Beings.
knew that each of them would fight to the bitter end for the gods they called their masters. He was even aware that both of them understood that things such as friendship were far lesser concepts, or perhaps greater, fit for the lesser beings beyond the tomb, or the Supreme Beings that stood so far above them. Each would count on the other to fulfill their task, for they were simply minor parts in the greater whole that was Nazarick. All of Nazarick existed for but a single purpose.
To serve the Supreme Beings.
And then they passed each other by and neither could see the other anymore. Demiurge continued on his way, as did Sebas Tian behind him. Lacking his fellow NPC to look at Demiurge's gaze shifted to the doors as he passed them. He was now fully in the area of the ninth floor that was devoted to the private suites of the Supreme Being. Each door was embossed with the sigil of the Supreme Being it belonged to. He saw the icon of Lord Takemikazuchi adorning one of the doors.
After walking some ways further down the hallway, he passed another doorway, this one adorned with the symbol of Lady Yamaiko. Not long after that he came to an intersection of four corridors meeting. In each direction he knew lay more doors to the private domains of the Supreme Beings. Down the corridor to the right lay the one that belonged to his creator. Ahead was the doorway of Lord Momonga. However, it was to the left he turned.
More doorways bore more symbols of gold with emblems. Lord Bellriver on the right side of the hallway, then Lord Whitebrim on the left. The door after that, once more on the right side of the hallway had two figures standing outside, one to either side of the doorway. They wore high level Power Armor suits painted in black and gold, and Demiurge looked upon some of the Tomb's only defenders that he had no direct command over.
He stopped in between the two guards in the middle of the hallway, turning to face the doorway that bore the golden symbol of Lady Weaver, a bee at the center of a spiderweb adorned the polished wood.
"I am here to see Empress Skittering-Weaver."
The bees were silent before the one on the left nodded her helmet ever so slightly.
"She is in her study. Do not tarry male."
His head nodded in understanding even as he ignored the guardbee's tone at his gender. She was a bee, and all bee heteromorphs, even Lady Weaver was prone to this kind of behavior in her own small ways. It was simply a part of who they were, a part of their race. He had caught more than once the small ways Lady Weaver would address him, the tone she would use when her mind was occupied with other things. She would catch herself, and sometimes even apologize, but he did not mind.
Even if she looked down on males however slightly, she still worked with them. She stood alongside aiding and assisting Lord Momonga, just as she had allowed Lord Touch Me and his own creator Lord Ulbert along with all the other male Supreme Beings to aid her. It was simply her way, just as it was the way of all Supreme Beings to behave in the little deviances that set the above and separate from other lesser heteromorphs such as himself.
He stepped forward reaching for the door and opening it admitting himself to the spacious parlor and living room of Lady Weaver's personal quarters. He looked around briefly for a moment. Over there, a piece of artwork that had not been present the last time he had entered, one that looked like it had been created by a bee artist adorned a wall, a painting of Lady Weaver in her full regal garb as the empress and ruler of her entire race. On a coffee table in the center of the room in the middle of chairs and couches was a scale model of the mountain fortress city her daughter Maverick-Duelist Ariel was building in the Empire of Baharuth.
He eyed the mockup of stone fortifications that was a joint construction project between the engineers of the human nation and the bee engineers of Queen Ariel's hive. It was far more human in design than the other city designs he had seen the other Queens developing. He did not linger to inspect it closer however, walking towards the wall where a closed door was the entrance to Lady Weaver's study and office.
Opening the doorway, he immediately entered into the middle of a conversation that had already been going on before he arrived between Lady Weaver and the human man in power armor standing before her desk.
"...pardon your Majesty, but you're being a daft fucking idiot. Your daughters are all over the map on their military preparations and build up. Queen Ariel could certainly hold off any army that doesn't have Earthcrackers in their ranks, but the other two. Bah! Worse than useless! Queen Aurora is neglecting most of her defensive structures beyond just a basic stone and wood wall surrounding the city while she prioritizes other construction projects and Queen Cinderella doesn't even have the most basic of operational security in place in her city with how she's letting those Theocracy military units poke around.
The human cyborg male was an exception to the normal policy of not allowing humans within the boundaries of Nazarick precisely because he served and was loyal to Lady Weaver.
General Ulysess S. Wyatt was an NPC loyal to Lady Weaver and only Lady Weaver. Her personal Power Suit Brigade Commander, he served her where he had served none others before precisely because she was a World Commander. She had commissioned him into her service several days ago to oversee the state of not only her personal Royal Guard but also the military forces and guards of all the Queen daughters Lady Weaver had.
The man was irreverent, loud, annoying, crude, and far too casual with Lady Weaver to a degree that bordered on heretical in its impropriety. He was also unquestioningly loyal, utterly merciless, and extremely competent at what he did. His sole focus was the condition and function of Lady Weaver's army. In particular, her Power Suit equipped warriors. It was a responsibility he completely committed to as he carried out his duty with every tobacco reeking breath.
In short, Demiurge liked him a great deal no matter how much he found the man completely infuriating at times.
Demiurge knew that General Wyatt was different since he was not a Nazarick NPC. He had resolved ever since his first meeting to overlook the cyborg's many flaws and work together as they carried out Lady Weaver's orders and directives.
The cyborg put the cigar back in his mouth and let out a puff of smoke as Weaver waved a hand at the smoke drifting near her in irritation before fixing him with a look that Demiurge was learning was mild annoyance.
"Ariel is the military commander of my daughter-queens. Of all of them, it is logical she would look to her defenses first before any of the others. Aurora has a number of construction projects she has to carry out that neither of the other two has objectives of equal enormity to deal with, not least of which is my arsenal complex which has top priority. As for Cinderella the Theocracy are fearful and untrustful. She has far more to gain by letting them look as close as they like and see we are not a threat than guarding any secrets she doesn't even have to hide anyways. My daughters know their roles and the objectives they need to complete. Focus your attention on their Power Suit divisions and leave their duties to their capable hands. If there is truly any issues or crisis Demiurge can deal with them or inform me."
"That your Majesty is a load of dragon-shit. You may have the biggest stick right now but the enemy still has numbers and that's not even counting the Dragon Lords that are no doubt watching you. You need to build up your army faster and not just the Power Suit Brigades and Royal Guards I'm training up. The rest of them are lagging behind badly and if you faced a true military opposition, you'd have problems hard and fast in everything from your supply lines and lines of communications to your auxiliary forces.
Lady Weaver's lower left fist hit her desk lightly causing several items on the wooden desk to shake. The cyborg's mouth snapped shut as Weaver's temper was clearly starting to fray just a little.
"Then it's a good thing I don't have any armies gathering to face me then do I, General?"
There was a pause as she buzz-growled out to him, her tone of anger quietly growing.
"Do I General?"
The cyborg military veteran plucked the cigar from his mouth and with a resigned tone responded.
"No, you're majesty. All scouts and spies continue to report no notable military movements of any kind."
Victorious in the verbal sparring Lady Weaver nodded once and leaned back in her office chair a hand raising to rub at the fuzz of her brow.
"Of course, there are none! Every military in this world is no doubt panicking still because they have no idea how much control I have over the power suits they have from my Final Conquest. As such you will continue to train my armies to the fullest of your ability and you will cease in bothering my daughters regarding matters outside of that directive. You are dismissed, General."
The cyborg turned to look at Demiurge where he was still standing silently beside the helmetless Power Suited military veteran. The Power Suit was far bulkier than the ones Lady Weaver typically favored such as her personal suit Godslayer although it did possess a bulk and size on par with the members of her Royal Guard that served as her vanguard and shock troops in battle. Encased in the dark gray metal surface of the magitech war suit, the General's one cybernetic eye shone with red bright sinister light even as the opposite blue organic eye remained fixed on Demiurge.
"Hope you can talk some sense into her Majesty. I don't think she's listening to me today. Maybe it's that time of the month and she's just feeling cranky."
He raised the cigar back to his mouth as he turned the rest of the way and lumbered quickly out of the office. Demiurge turned to look back to Lady Weaver where she remained slumped in her chair massaging her brow with her fingers.
"Some days I really wish I had remembered how much of an asshole he had been back when I'd gone through the Power Suit training course..."
Demiurge chose diplomacy even as he suppressed the urge to force the General to grovel and beg for forgiveness. Lady Weaver had after all known him from back in Yggdrasil and still chosen him to serve her. It fell to him to support her in this clearly trying moment.
"General Wyatt is simply possessed of a singular focus Lady Weaver. He has no time or energy for civility when he devotes everything he is to your service and commands. You summoned him to command and train your military forces. It is only natural and fitting that he would devote his every being to that duty as he should."
Lady Weaver looked upwards at him where he stood the hand massaging her head dropping to rest on the arm of her chair as she just glared at him in annoyance.
"Of course he does. That's why I summoned him specifically. I just forgot how much of a prick he was programed as."
Her head turned to look to the side of the room. Demiurge's own head turned to followed her gaze to look at an entire wall covered in maps, many still showing the worlds of Yggdrasil, each marked with pins denoting key resource locations Lady Weaver had been in the habit of holding control of, in the center was the new ever-expanding maps of this new world they found themselves in.
"Doesn't matter. I still need him, asshole or not."
The words were spoken with conviction as Lady Weaver worked past her mood at dealing with her ever-annoying General.
"Right. Report in Demiurge."
His stance shifted, coming to attention, something he knew the military commander in her would appreciate as he raised a hand to his chest in a dutiful bow motion.
"Yes, your Majesty. The city on the surface is currently three days ahead of schedule. Your decision to allocate members of your Royal Guard to the construction efforts have allowed construction to accelerate ahead of schedule. Once you pull them from the work rotations the construction rate will stabilize but we will remain ahead of schedule. As you said to the general your arsenal complex remains a priority and Queen Aurora is continuing to prioritize it over other city sections and priorities."
Lady Weaver gave a nod as he told her what she already knew of course, but he repeated for the sake of thoroughness.
"I have noted that we are unlikely to see similar agricultural progress around the other cities that we will here. Mare's druidic magic has progressed the crop growth rate by years and decades and I estimate that the Cultivator Bees will be unable to maintain an equal rate of blessing the land in area or intensity as what he has managed here."
Weaver nodded once more even as one of her hands slowly began to drum her fingers on the surface of the table, a habit he noted she had the habit of doing when she was preoccupied with thought and only partially paying attention to what was going on around her.
"I'll see if I can change up the next hatchery to give a larger ratio of Cultivators to make up for the difference. If they can't set up agriculture returns to equal their population growth the Hives will fall behind on development. Tell Aurora that if she has periods of inactive duty for her Atlas transport for other duties she should start coordinating with her sisters and they can use their airships to transport grain and food supplies between the cities as needed to stockpile to make sure that any delays to Hive development of the cities remain minimal."
Demiurge nodded, pleased that he had correctly guessed what Lady Weaver's command would be. It was good to know that his thoughts were operating in a manner similar to hers.
"If I may suggest Lady Weaver, even if they are not transporting food supplies, they can be used for other supplies as well. Queen Ariel is reporting excellent progress from the diggers for her mining operations and if we can allow ore stockpiles to build it will take the burden and cost away from what is necessary to purchase from the humans."
Lady Weaver quietly buzzed in a hum of thought for a moment before slowly nodding.
"Do it. But make sure that we never fully cut the humans out. We want to build diplomatic and economic ties. Being self-sufficient is good but let us not ruffle any feathers."
An errant thought of what an avian heteromorph and human hybrid child would look like, but he filed it away for later letting the fullness of his thoughts remain focused on Lady Weaver's needs.
"Unless you have new orders for me, I have a meeting with Emporer Jircniv in two hours' time to discuss interactions between the humans and bestial races in his lands. In the evening, I am set to carry out your review inspection of Queen Cinderella's progress. Do you have any other duties for me?"
Lady Weaver's attention had turned to a journal logbook she used in recording her magitech development and she was leafing through it idly with a hand.
"No… nothing at this time."
Demiurge nodded and bowed once in respect before turning to leave and carry out her will. He had just reached the door of her office when a thought, a question that had come to him during the 'personal time' that she and Lord Momonga mandated he take, surfaced in his mind. As this was as good a time as any, he turned back on his heel looking at her.
"Lady Weaver?"
She looked up from her desk where she had been writing down new notes and observations of her creations, glancing at him for a moment.
"Yes, Demiurge?"
"This Panacea you wrote of in your story… was she the one you spoke of? The one who changed you?"
Lady Weaver was silent for a long agonizing moment, perfectly still, before the smallest of nods confirmed Demiurge's suspicions. He had heard the accounting of her words to Narberal weeks before at a breakfast with Lord Momonga. But there was a difference between a warning to never underestimate an enemy, and the knowledge that somewhere, on some other far off inaccessible world, was a woman, a being who Demiurge so very badly wanted to show the length and breadth of his… artistic aspirations…
He said no more simply giving a silent nod. He departed. It must still be a sore wound for Lady Weaver. True she had only been beginning the path of her journey back then, only a Proto-Player, one of these Parahumans. Still, she had been a human, to be changed, to be made into what she according to her own written words had felt was a monster, to become a glorious heteromorph when before she had only known the simple life of a human. Even for a being as incomprehensible, it must have been traumatic…
His thoughts were heavy upon him as he quickly made his way from the quarters of this most enlightened of Supreme Beings, to the city high above on the surface that was being made under the light of the sun where even the lowest and most unworthy of races and beings could behold the majesty of her vision.
He emerged from the entrance of the Tomb to look around. Shade cast down on the white polished stone of the Tomb's exterior and all around him, all emanating from the shape and shade of the massive tree that rose so many hundreds of feet high into the sky. According to Lady Weaver the seed that had planted this tree was a seed of mighty Yggdrasil itself, the tree that had bound together the many worlds that the Supreme Beings had traveled and explored before. While it was not so great and massive in size as to connect together entire worlds, it was still so massive that there was no part of the burgeoning city spreading out on the surface that the shade of its branches and leaves would not reach. Despite being days old it was massive in size as large as any mountain. Its roots extended outwards spreading and stretching. Nestled into the space between each would be the districts of the city that the lesser races would be allowed to visit and dwell in.
One of these nestled and protected groves between the massive roots was where the entrance of Nazarick was hidden. An entire forest filled the space between the encircling roots all around the surface of the Tomb, hiding it from prying eyes the space between filled to bursting with trees that rose higher than the buildings of Nazarick's exterior buildings.
Up the side of the tree's massive trunk were hundreds of holes and openings as the bees that were the children and children's children descended from Lady Weaver, were creating the true city of bee-kind. They dug into the tree, carefully ensuring the tree itself remained alive and well even as they carved out halls and chambers in the wood. Nurseries, shops, residences, and more, even an entire palace worthy of Lady Weaver was under construction within the tree.
Making his way through the forest of trees that was nestled against the Yggdrasil tree he departed the grounds of Nazarick's surface heading towards one of the ground-level entrances into the tree's base. Bee warriors, armed and armored in mithril stood at attention, watching him approach. He could see in their eyes the same casual aloofness at his gender and presence. But they did not deny his approach or his entrance for he served their Ruler and as long as he was a loyal and obedient servant he would have as much place at her side as any of them.
He quickly made his way through the labyrinth of tunnels to the other side of the tree to where the military district of the city was nestled between more massive roots. As he stepped outside of the tree's interior, he could see the district stretching before him. To the right were the massive foundations and rapidly rising walls of the Arsenal. It was the industrial complex of buildings that would be the nucleus of Lady Weaver's craft upon the surface of this world. It was the largest building that would be built in the entirety of the city rivaling the grandest of palaces in the sheer area it covered, and yet it barely rose even with the massive roots it was built up against.
Next to the Arsenal were the training fields and barracks of the remainder of the Military District of the city. While the Tree could hold thousands of bees all to itself once the city was fully built up, the Military District would house and hold tens of thousands of warriors on its own with barracks for bee warriors of all kinds already laid out in the city planning designs.
Other districts nestled between other roots would be devoted to other things. Commerce, industry, residential, the arts, all and more besides would have a place in this city. A city that Lady Weaver had called Minas Anor. It would be the greatest of the cities of bee-kind upon this world. A beacon to all who looked upon it. All would see how the sun showed down and gave its warm light of life to the nucleus of the soon-to-be metropolis. A paragon to behold of industry, art, and power.
His destination in the Military District was the landing fields that had already been set aside for the aircraft Lady Weaver created. She had only made a handful of Atlas transports so far, and other aircraft only remained drawings on paper and parchment for now, but even with so few transports in existence yet, Queen Aurora at her mother's direction had already laid out landing zones for twenty aircraft to fill at any given time. He knew there were plans for landing platforms to be built on the exterior of the tree high up as well that had not yet been constructed too.
Only one of these landing areas had anything occupying it. A single solitary Atlas that he knew was waiting for him. From the pocket of his suit Demiurge's hand removed a deceptively ordinary-looking silver ring that he slipped onto his hand. Though he did not see it he knew his appearance had been changed. His tail was no longer visible just as his appearance now looked fully human to the eyes of the fools and unthinking who looked upon him.
He was in the domain of the greater world now, and as Lady Weaver had cautioned him, there was no telling who might be watching even now. Appearing fully human he boarded the transport's cargo bay and took a seat in one of the passenger chairs built into the wall. A moment later the cargo entrance began to close with the whine of hydraulics while at the same time the engines of the aircraft began to whine with more and more power. He felt a lurch as the aircraft lifted off the ground.
It was hardly as smooth as if he had flown himself in his hybrid form, but then that was not the purpose of these aircraft. Flight was something most mages and many heteromorphs were capable of, but how many races and beings did not have magic or were not innately capable of flight? How many mages could carry massive loads of war weapons or soldiers? The purpose of these crafts was not as transports of luxury such as a carriage, designed for comfort and ease of travel. They were designed with purpose, war and dominion were the existence of these things. They carried weapons of great and terrible power, but even more deadly than the weapons they bore, was their ability to transport great loads rapidly across the world in a matter of hours over incredible distances of hundreds of miles.
His own journey aboard the transport was several hours, but several hours to him would have been days upon days of travel for even the fastest of transports and beasts of this world. In two hours' time, he would be standing in the summer palace of the Human Emperor and speaking with this man to see how accurate Queen Ariel's reports were of his pliability and future value.
The journey passed smoothly for Demiurge. Part of him wished he had brought one of those precious books with him, but the risk of losing it, however slight was far too high a risk, instead, he dwelled in the thoughts in his mind. Composing creations of art and beauty, planning and calculating the course of Lady Weaver's vision, and assessing and calculating suggestions he might make.
Obviously, she had foreseen all but the most extreme of the suggestions and errors he would point out, but he knew she did not just counsel and command him to think for himself for her sake, but also for the sake of others. NPC and bee-kin alike were not blessed with the same wisdom and experience as her, to them his insight would be far more critical and she was grooming him to act as counsel and aid to them, to his daughters, and his fellow NPCs.
When the transport touched down and the cargo bay opened Demiurge walked out into a vast expanse of an elaborate garden. If he had not beheld the wonders of the Sixth Floor and of Minith Anor he might even have been impressed by the beauty that surrounded him. As it was, he instead looked upon the plants and flowers of this expanse of royal gardens with a critical eye. Here and there he easily noticed errors, mistakes. The gardeners had spent their whole lives learning their skills and abilities, and yet it was still a pale imitation to the Cultivators that served in the nation of bee-kind or the capacity to grow plants that Mare wielded with the slightest of efforts.
His gaze left the plants and looked to the group of people standing off to the side, well clear of the transport and its screaming engines. Most looked timid and afraid. Only a handful bore any other expressions. The Emperor he had come to see was the most composed, hiding his thoughts and emotions well behind a practiced mask that with time and seasoning might eventually hide them from Demiurge. Another was at the edge of the group, an ancient-looking man with hair as white as snow, a cyborg with more metal in him than General Wyatt, though this looked hardly as impressive or purposeful. It was as if the person who had made him into a cyborg had not known what he was doing, still, it was good to know that some were unknowingly aspiring to the arts of Lady Weaver's craft.
He walked forward striding confidently towards the group. Armed knights and even guards wearing Power Suits that had once served in Lady Weaver's Last Crusade stood farther back. This Emperor however stood openly in the front. Demiurge smiled just a little as he beheld a degree of competence and quality in this ruler.
He did not bow; he would not bow to a simple lesser being no matter how competent. But his hand did raise to his chest in a motion of respect for this young ruler before him.
"Greetings Emperor Jircniv. I am Demiurge, a simple servant, and aide in the court of her most radiant Majesty, Titan, Empress Skittering-Weaver."
Jircniv gave the slightest of head nods in response even as courtiers of far less value surrounding him bristled at Demiurge's appearance of indifference to the ruler's rank.
"Please excuse my aides. They are as loyal and defensive of me as you are for your own Empress. Come let us sit and speak. I had hoped to meet with your ruler, but Queen Ariel's words already led me to believe I was unlikely to do so. She did say that you speak with her words and that any dealings I have with you will be binding unless they are of the gravest of natures. I assume that she spoke correctly?"
Jircniv's were bright even as he studied Demiurge intently trying to read and assess the human guise the magic ring hid Demiurge within. The demon servant of the Supreme Beings gave a nod of confirmation and followed the gesturing hand of the emperor to where a table and chairs had been set out.
"I will relay any and all messages you have. Her Majesty has also given me permission to speak with any of her Daughter-Queens not only Ariel but any of the others as well if you have business with any of the cities of bee-kind. While only Ariel builds within your lands, she wishes to foster relationships between all cities and all nations. War is not her desire."
He took a seat after allowing Jircniv to sit first, a gesture of respect for the level of social rank the human commanded in this surface world outside the realm of Nazarick.
"War is not her desire, but no doubt she desires the return of her craft-suits. My people have heard the whispers and rumors that she is paying a great treasure for each suit returned to her, even as she claims for peace. Even if others offer up ruined junk that is of no value to them, as the creator of the craft-suits it would all have value to her still would it not?"
Demiurge's smile twists. Good, it was good to see that there was a mind of intelligence that was not clouded by the offer of wealth within this human man. He could see not just the offer of a ransom of gold and gems, but the reason why Lady Weaver would pay any and all that approached her with her old Power Suits, ruined or whole. He saw the potential; he made the connection to her intent. There was possibility and potential here with this man just as he had suspected.
"You are astute young Emperor. Many others would only see the gleam of treasure and miss the dragon hiding beneath it."
The young human man was quiet for a moment before he adopted an easy smile, clearly, a practiced fake, but still points for the effort of maintaining his composure.
"What can I say I had a good teacher. Speaking of…"
The Emperor turned looking to the side at the ancient-looking cyborg.
"Old Man, I can hear you whispering under your breath. Come over here already since you are so clearly impatient."
The ancient-looking cyborg moved with a speed his age did not seem capable of as he approached the table practically at a run. His robes flapped open and Demiurge could see a modified flight suit from the Crusade, or at least something designed after one, covered his body, and more metal pieces and cyborg enhancements were concealed by the robes of yellow and black. Clearly, a fanatic devoted to the past and Lady Weaver's crusade, scrabbling in the sand and desert to try and catch her grace. Failing of course, but coming closer than likely any other.
"The vessel! The craft! I must see it! I must see inside! Any price you demand I will pay it!"
The cyborg's eyes, both of them still the blue of a human, not traded out like General Wyatt's right eye, were filled with the zealotry of devotion and madness followed freely with the gleam of inspiration in these intelligent eyes.
Demiurge knew precious little of the ways of magitech. His own magic differed very greatly from Lady Weaver's realm of creations. But he knew enough to see this was no fake, no prop created by the emperor as a plant to spy and learn the secrets of Lady Weaver's creations. This was a fanatic, obsessed with everything about it…
He would make a useful tool…
"My Lady bade me make gestures befitting a friend and ally. Of course, we will be happy to let you see the interior of the Atlas. His eyes flickered back for a moment to Jircniv and he smiled a little more as that brittle smile was in place once more. This man knew that such a simple promise was taking away this close ally of his, and drawing in close this ancient cyborg. The young emperor knew he could never again trust this ancient man, for he would sell the Emperor he served in a heartbeat but for a glimpse of Lady Weaver's work and wonders.
Good. If the man could not see this simple thing, he would have precious little place in Demiurge's plans for the future of the Empire of Baharuth. And there were precious few if any that would take his place of any value.
It was at that moment both Jircniv and Demiurge turned their heads looking in the same direction as they both heard the sound of the thrumming of wings. There, off to the side was Queen Maverick-Duelist Ariel herself approaching over the top of the hedge maze on the grounds of the gardens. Her robes and dress of Red and Silver gleamed with matching armor of Mithril. Pitiful material that it was it was an act of display only on the powerful warrior queen, to remind the foolish and the pitiful that to attack her was dangerous. A visible reminder when there were none in this kingdom except perhaps a Titan-kin or two that might even provide the barest of fights for the most martial of Lady Weaver's daughters.
The young queen touched down on the grass of the garden lawn striding the few short steps towards the table and chairs. Immediately Jircniv stood and at that moment, Demiurge marveled at how well the outfits of the two paired as if Jircniv had deliberately chosen his outfit that day knowing it would not clash with the attire of the apiarian queen. They each embraced the other with a single arm as they met. But not in a hug or embrace. Their feet moved and they circled, eyes locked on one another, dancing for but a moment on the grass as they met, greeting one another.
Demiurge entertained the far more possible ideas and thoughts of what perhaps a union of bee and human might produce as he looked upon the pair.
Neither said a word though as they broke apart from their greeting, stepping away back to the seats. Jircniv, the gentleman that he was, pulled a chair out for Ariel, before taking his own seat once more.
Ariel looked to Demiurge in that moment as she sat down and bowed her head to him in greeting.
"Lord Demiurge, greetings. How fares my mother?"
Demiurge returned the bow of the head, after all this was one of Lady Weaver's daughters, in essence, an heir to Nazarick itself no matter how unlikely the scenario of that ascension.
"She is busy with her creations. General Wyatt continues to vex her. I will speak of the other matters she bade me convey to you later when we are in private."
He watched Jircniv's reaction as he spoke revealing hints of tantalizing private details that the emperor would puzzle at and gnaw upon like a dog with a bone trying to extract every detail from the supreme Empress, he was beholden to for the very survival of his nation and people, no matter how little Lady Weaver ever hinted it. Jircniv knew well that Lady Weaver had the power to destroy his entire empire with the effort it would take to wipe this table they sat at clean of its classes and decorative flowers.
He knew, and he knew well that he needed to co-operate, to co-exist with Lady Weaver and her daughters… Demiurge's eyes looked to Queen Ariel, looking at how she watched the human Emperor, and he glanced back at her for a brief knowing moment.
Yes, he had decided very well how best to co-operate… Demiurge looked forward to seeing what children they would create together.