Chapter 97

The eastern sky began to pale, the first thin light of dawn creeping across the horizon.

Elise and Mirri stepped home. Ashlara and I climbed onto Serah’s neck, and with a powerful sweep of her wings she lifted into the air.

She angled north and east toward the Iron Nation’s army and began circling above them. As the camp stirred below, she let out a piercing, two-toned screech that rolled across the plains like a war horn. Then she folded her wings slightly and began a slow descent.

Orcs gathered quickly.

They formed a wide circle around the central tent that served as the warlords’ council hall. By the time we drew close, the warlords and their shamans had already assembled outside, weapons in hand and eyes lifted toward us.

Serah landed with a heavy thud of earth and wind.

Ashlara and I slid down from her neck and dropped to the ground. I strode forward into the circle and drove Adhaneth point-first into the dirt.

“Murderous whore!” Warlord Kael of Grath’kor Varnak roared.

He charged Ashlara. I stepped between them. His blade punched straight into my gut.

Pain exploded through me, bright and hot, followed immediately by a surge of anger. I grabbed his wrist and twisted hard. Bone snapped. Kael howled. I drove my forehead into his face, knocking him off his feet, then planted my boot on his chest and pinned him to the ground.

I’d never headbutted someone before. It hurt.

But not nearly as much as the blade in my stomach.

I yanked it free and tossed it aside. “Is this how you honor your traditions?” I called out to the gathered warlords.

Weapons were drawn all around us, the warlords barely holding themselves in check.

“I came to urge you - again - to return to your homes,” I said, my voice carrying across the camp. “The gods manipulate you. They drive you toward **** for their own amusement. Will you continue to be their slaves?”

Silence hung over the circle.

I turned toward the shamans. “Shamans, find the strength to rein in the bloodlust of your tribes. Turn them away from this folly. Protect your people. If you cannot…” I let the words hang for a moment. “They will die.”

I lifted my foot from Kael’s chest. Then I grabbed Adhaneth, wrapped an arm around Ashlara’s waist, rested my other hand against Serah’s muzzle, and stepped away.

* * *

I paced the common room of Northwatch Keep while the pale light of morning spilled through the windows.

Mirri and Ashlara had both given me an earful the moment I got back. Mirri was furious that I’d stepped into the path of a blade. Ashlara was furious that I hadn’t let her defend herself.

I wasn’t apologizing for either.

Kael’s blade hadn’t been a real threat - not anymore. I’d been through worse. A lot worse. And with how fast I healed now, Mirri hadn’t even needed to touch me with her magic.

As for Ashlara, she would’ve drawn her axe. That would’ve escalated things instantly.

Him stabbing me looked bad. Him stabbing her would’ve started a fight.

Kael had broken tradition. And the fact that I never drew a weapon meant the parley technically still held. If anything, it made him look weak.

I turned back toward them. “What do you think is happening?”

Ashlara leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, lips pulled into a tight frown. She shrugged. “If Urzan-Brek still lived,” she said, “Kael would be stripped of rank and exiled by now.” She glanced toward the window. “Now? Don’t know.”

“Do you think the shamans can turn the hordes around?”

Another shrug. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “Should we go back?” I asked. “Try to reroute the Arvellians?”

Ashlara snorted softly. “What do you think the queen would say to that?”

“She’d be pissed,” I admitted. “Probably call it an act of war.”

The orcs had calmed down - at least a little. They weren’t tearing each other apart, which I took as a good sign. There was still enough sanity left for them to recognize their own kind.

But the Arvellian army was coming. And when the two forces met, I doubted that fragile restraint would hold.

For all I knew, even if the orcs turned back, the Arvellians might pursue them anyway—march straight into their lands in the name of vengeance.

I exhaled slowly. It was becoming painfully clear that a wall alone wasn’t going to stop this war.

* * *

Eventually I realized pacing the common room and worrying about people killing each other wasn’t accomplishing anything. So I went looking for something productive to do.

To get my mind off the war, I retreated to the library and started reading about enchanting. It wasn’t something I’d even known existed when I first arrived in this world, but after seeing the Arvellian cavalry with enchanted horseshoes, my curiosity had gotten the better of me. If they could make horses run faster or tire less, what else could be done?

From what I gathered, enchantments were generally weaker than spells cast directly. Their strength wasn’t raw power - it was endurance. Enchantments could be used by people who lacked aptitude for a specific school of magic, and once created they could persist for months or years.

The downside was complexity. Enchanting pulled from multiple disciplines at once, and not everyone had the knack for it. Worse, it took time. Lots of time.

Casting a spell was like drawing a picture. Almost anyone could do it. Some people had natural talent, but even without it you improved through practice.

Enchanting was more like building a house of cards. It required patience, materials, precision - and if you made a mistake halfway through, the entire structure collapsed and you had to start again from the beginning.

I started small.

A scrap piece of metal sat on the workbench while I tried to apply a basic heating enchantment. Scribing the runes that formed the framework of the magical matrix wasn’t difficult. But every time I tried to stabilize the mana construct, it collapsed after the first few circuits like a bridge missing its supports.

Elise stopped by and offered a few pointers, but even with her help I couldn’t produce anything stable on the first day.

By afternoon my brain felt like it had been wrung out, so I took a break and spent some time with the kids.

Torvek and I checked the brining barrels in the smokehouse, making sure the meat was still submerged and the foam skimmed off. Later I helped Ashlara during defense training, offering the children a few tips and tricks that differed from her more straightforward style. After that I sat in on one of Serah’s history lessons.

Dinner came and went, and afterward I invited everyone out to the bailey.

I figured if my head needed a reset, music might help.

Adhaneth shifted into a guitar and I tried my hand at playing some Rammstein, Korn, and Rage Against the Machine.

The ferals loved it. The others… not so much. Even Mirri was unimpressed, and she usually enjoyed everything I introduced from Earth.

No one had ever taught the ferals how to dance, but they picked it up quickly enough - if you could call the chaotic thrashing that goes with industrial music dancing.

Eventually the night wound down. We tucked everyone into bed, though it took a while to convince Clo to stop running around the halls chanting ‘doo-doo hast’ while she giggled. It was nice to see her that happy.

Once the keep had finally gone quiet, I returned to the workbench and took another crack at enchanting. A few more failed matrices later, I admitted defeat for the night.

Sometime after midnight I gave up, climbed into bed, and joined my three beautiful women - letting warmth and exhaustion pull me into sleep.

* * *

The next morning I made pancakes with the last of our flour. If I wanted to keep making them, I’d need to head to Northgate for supplies today.

Alongside the pancakes were jellied persimmons, bacon, and sausage.

A lot of bacon and sausage.

I managed to convince the ferals to at least try the pancakes. Moss ate an entire one. The others took a single bite, made a face, and promptly stuffed pieces of meat in their mouths to erase the taste.

Apparently flour-based breakfast foods had not evolved into their preferred diet.

Once everyone was fed, I stepped to Northgate.

I picked up the basics first - milk, eggs, flour, and salt. Then I wandered through the market until I found a livestock vendor. I bought a dozen chickens and four goats. It was a start toward becoming at least a little self-sufficient.

It also ate up nearly half my remaining money.

I stopped by to check on Dur and Orrik. They seemed to be doing well, though both were concerned about the rising **** in the city and the growing war with the orcs.

Orrik mentioned rumors of unrest in Dumrath Kol-Varn, the dwarven kingdom to the north, though nobody seemed to know why.

Nanders was still tied up with classes, so I made my way to the chirurgeons’ hall to see Administrator Ashkettle.

I was starting to suspect the woman simply lived there.

I asked if the hospital needed anything - supplies, help, whatever I could offer. She mentioned donations in passing to cover bandages, medicines, and other necessities.

So I gave her three gold.

Then I stepped to my demesne and conjured as many bandages as I could. When I returned - suddenly appearing in her small office with over three hundred pounds of neatly folded bandages - I did more than startle her.

It occurred to me that I had never actually told her I was a god. I decided it might be fun to just let her wonder.

While we talked, I managed to learn more about the Bloodchildren—as they were being called here.

The news wasn’t good.

There had been numerous medical emergencies involving mothers and newborns. The accelerated pregnancies alone were catastrophic, but the births themselves were even worse. Many mothers died during delivery. Others suffered severe internal injuries. In some cases the babies literally chewed their way out.

Among the surviving infants, most appeared physically healthy. But the reactions of the public were… ****.

Some babies had been killed outright. Others were injured when terrified parents dropped them. In cases of multiple births, there had been incidents of cannibalism among the infants themselves.

The hospital had also seen a surge of abandoned children - some left on the doorstep, others simply found on the streets. Many of those had starved when they refused to drink milk.

Even now there were rumors of Bloodchildren roaming the city - killing pets, attacking children and occasionally even adults. The guard had captured a few. They were currently sitting in cells while someone tried to decide what to do with them.

I shared my own experiences with the ferals at home - the blood drinking, the cannibalistic instincts, the pack behavior, the aggression.

Ashkettle was fascinated. Apparently hadn’t heard of anyone successfully raising a Bloodchild before - let alone six of them at once.

So I offered to introduce her. The moment I explained that the trip would take only a few seconds, she eagerly agreed. After making a few quick arrangements, she met me back in her office.

I left Adhaneth behind as an anchor point and stepped us into my demesne.

We didn’t stay there long, though I gave her a moment to take in the impossible horizon. I explained - briefly - that this place was mine, and that I was a newly ascended god. I left out most of the rest.

Then we stepped home.

All the children were currently gathered for Mirri’s magic lesson. I introduced Ashkettle and explained why she was visiting. Elarion, Brinja, and Tib remembered her from their time in the hospital, though they remained cautious. Torvek and Mak had apparently managed to avoid the place entirely after the sewer collapse.

The ferals were wary of meeting anyone new.

We kept the examination simple. Thae, Moss, and Nim were the most likely to tolerate it and were the three most capable of sitting still without getting frustrated.

Ashkettle examined them with open fascination.

Their mixed parentage alone was remarkable, but the differences between them were even more striking. Thae drew the most attention. Her draconic features - and the fact that she was literally part dragon - made her something of a medical miracle.

Apparently dragons almost never allowed themselves to be examined. What little was known about them mostly came from the rare autopsy after one died. And considering how powerful dragons were, that didn’t happen often.

I let the children answer most of Ashkettle’s questions themselves, occasionally adding a detail about their early days or clarifying something they said.

After about half an hour we called it there. They were getting restless.

Ashkettle and I stayed behind for a while, watching the kids play.

The games ranged from wrestling and climbing to hide-and-seek, reading, and hair braiding. The ferals were easily the most energetic of the group, though hide-and-seek proved to be something everyone could enjoy together. It also required very little supervision at this point.

Eventually I took Ashkettle back to Northgate, said my goodbyes, and went to find Nanders.

He ran a few more noninvasive tests on me and we talked about enchanting. His knowledge was mostly theoretical, but he still offered a few ideas I hadn’t considered.

Finally, I went looking for Jess.

We took a walk through the city and talked about life, rumors, and the current chaos spreading across the world.

There were plenty of commissions available now - most tied to the conflict with the orcs - but she refused to take any of them. Too many adventurers were coming back injured… or not coming back at all.

She also mentioned growing tension with Morentis. Apparently several Arvellian nobles working closely with the wizard nation had died recently - assassinations, accidents, suspicious mishaps. People were beginning to whisper about another war.

Meanwhile, the elven kingdom of Ilyr’Vaeneth had closed its borders completely. No one was allowed in or out. Trade had stopped, but beyond that almost no information was coming out.

To return the favor, I told her a little of what I knew.

About the gods. About Urzan-Brek’s ****. About how his uncontrolled Faith was fueling the **** spreading across the world.

I also mentioned that several other gods had gone missing - even though their Faith was still being controlled.

The more I talked, the more worried she looked. So I tried to lighten the mood.

I mentioned that I now had thirteen children at home. She laughed and made a joke about my growing collection.

Then I explained that the newest ones were Bloodchildren. The laughter died instantly.

I tried to reassure her - telling her about their personalities, about how much they’d changed as they grew. It didn’t help. If anything, she looked even more concerned despite the pride I couldn’t hide when I talked about them.

When we finally parted ways, she squeezed my arm. “Be careful, Seth,” she said quietly. “You’re a good guy. But you lead a very dangerous life.”

I told her I would. Then I stepped home.