Amun.
***
"I didn't think I'd see something like this for another fifty years!" I heard a familiar laugh echo through our temporary abode just moments before the trademark shit-eating grin fell into view. But it wasn't aimed at me.
"Hello." A hand reached out to the child clinging to my hip. "We met before but haven't been properly introduced." He smiled wider, bending low in a dramatic bow. "Edward Pascal, at your service."
"Uncle Ed." She corrected with a mumble, triggering a raised eyebrow.
"I adopted her. She's my daughter." I explained with a shrug.
The second brow raised. "Uncle…?"
"I see you as my brother." I shrugged again. "You, Toril, Jaimess, and Gio. And Jonet and Letta are my sisters. Roheisa and Lucia are cousins."
"I see." He looked away nodding, as if that would hide the sudden shine in his eyes. "Uncle Ed, it is then." He turned back a moment later with an outstretched hand.
"Iris Cole." She finally beamed, taking his hand with surprising strength.
"Blude." Came the calm call soon after Ed massaged the aches away from his hand.
"How old are you?" he almost gasped once he took her hand and stared evenly into her emerald eyes.
"Nine."
"You're tall for a nine-year-old." Ed chortled in awe. "And strong. Got some Amazonian in you?"
"I dunno." Blude shrugged dryly. "Ask my parents."
I couldn't help but snicker, drawing a glare from Blude and a sheepish 'you're not helping' look from Ed that only made me laugh harder. Although, I did help.
"Blude, Redd, and Sam have taken apprenticeships in many crafts," I said before bouncing Iris on my hip. "And Iris is my protege. We were just leaving to browse through the many fantastic things you create."
His brows rose at once, coinciding with a beaming smile that forced him into a backpedal toward the door. "Sounds like I'm just in time for a tour?"
"That you are." I chortled, then paused once outside to awe the girls with a wise rock swallowing the structure whole, leaving behind a patch of rough dirt that would soon be claimed by the snowfall. And thus the tour began.
"Lord Atford was desperate to elevate the province up to the state of an esteemed county," Ed whispered behind his hand, though we heard him loud and clear across the Net. "His land is the only county in Bakewia stuck as a province, so he was almost begging for the same sponsorship as Horas, only for all of his cities. He saved up a lot of gold for it."
"Is that why we're poor?" Blude seethed from behind.
"You're not poor anymore and neither is anyone here." Ed pointed out before nodding. "But, yeah. Although a bit of politics goes into it as well. Anyway, the deal was the same across most of Bakewia. The region would be sponsored by an artificer. In this case Pascal Industries."
He paused to lead us into the ground-based town from the western side. Where what before was a tattered mash of worn buildings and shacks was now a neat complex of curved stone roads, heated by a buried pipe network that kept the snow melted and feet toasty.
The buildings and blocks, separated into oblong or free-flowing shapes, contained everything from parks or gardens to garages and workshops for the abodes floating high above. The plots across the former well, however, were a different story. Beyond that park of fruit trees and heated ponds sat a district of parking lots and taxi stands for Ed's transportation revolution.
"My plan to bring wealth to the city is threefold. First." He gestured across the way. "I'm setting up a driving school and a chartering business to open up some jobs and to increase travel between the cities. Second, I'm opening up a school of engineering, with free admission for everyone in the county. And, third."
We followed his gaze to the High Mile, where the renovated inns and taverns that no longer supported private abodes stacked atop of their main floors towered beautifully over the road. Now, they were elegant structures with winding staircases leading from the road to the vast porches, where salesmen stood at the ready to bring passersby inside their walls. And behind it, was the crown jewel.
"The city of Winwell is now the site of my sales and distribution center." Ed declared as our eyes fell on a scaled-down arcology rising above the surrounding city like a giant redwood. Only, it was made in the likeness of a mushroom, with swings, bridges, and suspended platforms dangling from its domed cap.
"Due to its structure, it works in reverse." He teased before leading us inside. But we soon saw what he meant.
Pie-shaped modules wrapped around the elevator shaft in the center. And while this one was an elegant foyer, the others were self-enclosed environments filled with an array of vehicles being packaged for distribution. There were bicycles, electric wheels, skateboards, hoverboards, cars, and motorcycles in a caged cityscape. Water toys, yachts, and boats floated atop an indoor ocean. Dune buggies, trucks, trains, and planes sat arranged neatly in a vast desert. And more.
"The cheaper and more affordable models run off of ethanol," Ed explained. "Anyone with a hint of alchemical or brewing experience will be able to make and sell fuel on top of potions and ale." He snickered. Then quickly waved the comment away. "The more expensive ones are enchanted and, of course, only the Legions are privy to the divine ones. They aren't even made here."
"This is amazing." Redd gasped in awe multiple times during our short journey to the lift.
"I agree," I added shortly thereafter for Ed has truly outdone himself.
Every vehicle we saw below was being tested on the floor above. Thoroughly. On the third floor, we saw enchantments being installed in many of the vessels before they joined the un-enchanted crafts for polishing and detailing. On and on, up and up, we passed by every vehicle imaginable as they fell through the floors like a vertical assembly line.
On the top floor, however, was the truly amazing part.
With one exception, the entirety of the mushroom's domed cap was windowed in transparent aluminum. The sole exception was the outer rim. Wherein an automated interdimensional storage and retrieval system was housed and linked to the rest of the tower below. In many cases, such as the docking bays suspended from the cap or the hangars above them, the windows were simply used for natural lighting.
In Ed's office, however, the window was akin to a transparent dry-erase smart board. Like everything else in the building, it was connected to NoxNet and thus controlled or, in this case, written on with Ed's thoughts. And even with all of that area on which to write, it was nearly full.
The smallest area imaginable was dedicated to the building itself, all neatly arranged with readouts of raw materials sitting in the bottom left corner, fluctuating continuously.
Inventories and charts for supply and demand for various components sat next to it while designs or prototypes for new makes and models sat just above it. Everything else on the glassed ceiling contained plans.
Plans to create a peninsula-wide chartering business. Plans to give the orphans the opportunity to take apprenticeships under him. Plans to train and pursue other paths once his work here was finished.
Plans with redacted lines to censor them from unapproved eyes.
Redacted plans, revealed once we were seated in Ed's office.
"Alright." He eagerly rubbed his hands together. "I've organized every type of vehicle we have into tiers and integrated them with the ranks. I wanted to run it by you before making it official."
"Very well."
"Alright, so. Until they are promoted to Staff Sergeant or are commissioned as a Lieutenant, they will use the vehicles assigned to the Legion at the behest of their commander; dubbed Tier Zero for Normal Craft and Tier One for Magicraft. Once they achieve that rank, they'll be granted a personalized craft in Tier Two. Although in special cases, other Legionaries will use Tier Two craft- or Fast Movers- as well.
With a wave, five skeletons approached, one holding Iris' old chair while three others led bicycles up to the other girls.
"It's just what I wanted, thank you." I smiled at the skeleton to approach me, receiving a gracious bow from the undead and a few odd stares from a few of the living in return. "And thank you." I nodded at Ed before taking my electric wheel into my shadow. "I'll give it a proper ride later."
"Of course." He waved dismissively.
"Ooh! I want one like this!" Iris screamed behind a two-seater, then proceeded to make cooing sounds of awe as she ran through the trunk-mounted kitchen.
"When you're older," I told her.
"Not if I make one first." She mumbled.
I laughed, making Ed pause before unveiling a land skiff. Or, in my language, a car. An enchanted car with a spatially enchanted interior much like my hut outside, which was indeed the template for the layout.
"Tier Three are enchanted Mobile Campers for teams and squads in nomadic, expeditionary, research, or exploration units. They are capable of remote operation and have all the essentials, with little more to bear." Ed's Lore Skull explained through a PA system using a robotic tone that rang me with nostalgia.
"We're working on the personality." Ed shrugged meekly.
"No, no." I quickly shook my head. "It fits the theme."
"Right," Ed remarked unconvincingly. "They have the added benefit of a common storage unit and a space for small industry. But I'm sure you need something better?"
"A correct assumption." I followed behind him with a snort.
Through a seamless door, we entered a warehouse veritably filled with refined metals, magic or divine materials, and components neatly arranged around two familiar but unmoving faces. The first was the carriage Ed made for me all those years ago.
The second was a divine fox.
It wasn't Kit. The shadow-turned-Lunar Fox was among the few still thriving in Eotrom. But one of Kit's offspring didn't make the trials of nature that surely existed in my divine realm. And so…
"It is possible," Ed said with a regrettable sigh. "If they are divine, it can work on the Mortal Plane, without you being present. I only need a divine pebble. But that's the interesting part." He smiled weakly, then more when my brows rose in anticipation.
"The divine pebble is what makes them, for lack of a better term, undying. But not just that. They become closer to an undying creature with an interior structure ready to be claimed. As such," he paused, allowing the shit-eating grin to return in full force. "Another wise rock can be merged with them. But only if the creature is large enough."
A helpless shrug followed the masterfully placed downside. Besides, Ed undoubtedly had a solution.
"Because of that, the Tier Four vehicles are the ones without an additional wise rock. As a Roving Village fit for a platoon, it has a shared barracks for every team, plus a garage for medium industry, a witch hut, and a garden center. They're much like the tier two's, only they navigate under their own volition."
With a pleading gesture, he asked to demonstrate and I gave him the go-ahead with a nod, then watched the girls' reactions upon seeing metal and components meld into flesh and fur to create a sports carriage-type design. A sleek body with a bushy tail and a fox-shaped cockpit featuring two eye-shaped windows and intake nostrils.
And not to mention, four legs.
It even had a facsimile of fur that faded to a blue-white near the legs. And the same fur was seen as grass on the interior courtyard, giving the impression of a shag carpet.
I soon got a vicarious tour of the rib-embedded townhouses and the tail-mounted workshops once the girls took it upon themselves to explore within. But I wasn't complaining. Nor did I go inside, though. Instead, I clicked my teeth and took a few steps around the warehouse; hearing in response a deep growl before the vessel began stalking forward to heel.
"Fascinating!" I looked at Ed with a dumbfounded expression. "What of the others?"
"Tier Five are Mobile Cities for the companies." He explained, pulling a holographic display from the roof that depicted… well, a city. "They'll have cultural halls, witch cabins, agricultural centers with stables, guest lodges, apartment buildings, heavy industry. Everything except staff-level assets and civilian populations.
"I, erm- I designed this for Hatchi. I hope, through this, he'll live on."
"Thank you." I bowed. "It means a lot."
He gave a subtle nod to quickly move past the subject, then gestured to the window above. Ed was never overtly sentimental- a trait I could appreciate. "Tier Six is a Battalion Cruising County. With all the aforementioned amenities, plus advanced industry, hangars, shipyards, and domiciles for contractors, allies, and support or garrison units. Through this, those in the rear can remain in the realm. Whether that be in the sky, at sea, or underground.
"And then Tiers Seven, Eight, Nine, and Ten, are Mani's Shards, Asteroid Stations, Matrioska Moons, and the Woven Worlds."
"I have an idea for my tier six. But it won't come until later. For now," I sighed, conjuring an abundance of lunar materials and components to be placed beside Hati's colossal cadaver and a divine wise rock.
Withdrawing my divine essence alongside a mix of dissimilar magics, I kneaded it over the fifteen-meter length of Hatchi's corpse as well as the materials, components, and enchantments, imagining the end result of my creation before the perk took hold of the moonlight-infused metals, wood, and stone and merged them with the Undying essence of the Divine Engineer before Fabricating a living city of baroque elegance.
When all was said and done, the least interesting part was Hatchi's eight arms. Reinforced with metals, stone, and wood, they were. And yet they retained their fluidity of movement despite the new rigidity of the now hollowed flesh.
Or, mostly hollowed.
Said arms had been filled with infrastructure and furniture to make eight districts for my future companions, leaving me and my current companions to take up residence in and around the brain.
Every other system or organ, however, had been augmented in some way. Including said brain.
Hatchi's reinforced beak became an intake and sorting center for any resources 'consumed' and subsequently sorted in the Buccal Mass. From there, materials would be distributed to one of two refinement centers formed within the anterior or posterior salivary glands before they continued down the industrialized esophagus for refinement.
As biology dictated, much of the refined goods were stored in the crop while a fraction of it continued to the light industrial centers in the stomach or the spaces of medium industry in the cecum. Either way, they wound up in the distribution center, which was fabricated out of the former digestive gland.
As for the rectum. Well, that had more or less the same function as normal. It was the shuttle launching bay. But the same concept continued throughout.
The heart was made into the equivalent of a nuclear fusion reactor. The veins and arteries were lined with cables before they were pumped with coolant. The gonad was turned into a grand palace of relaxation and luxury. The kidneys were made into a waste processing plant and the brain became the operations center, surrounded by kitchens, offices, workshops, server rooms, and estates.
But that wasn't the best part. The gravity crystals weren't even the best part. Nor was the best part the successful infusion of a deeply rooted divine wise rock.
"Land," I commanded. And the house-sized octopus obliged by tucking its arms in a line below its body while the texture and color of its arms shifted, eventually forming four wheels of chrome and rubber straddling faux storage boxes of wood.
"Woah." Ed and Iris chimed.
"Sea," I commanded. And again, the car obliged by fanning out its arms to form a bow shape textured with the likeness of steel engraved with clouds of blue silver.
"Air," I commanded. And this time, the arms coiled up beside themselves, forming a flat disk atop a bulbous cabin that bobbed gently in the air. Then I looked at the fox. "Sleep.
"Dock," I then said to the floating vessel, probing it to lift the curled-up fox in a tractor beam and guide it into the siphon. "Land," I commanded a final time, then turned my gaze to the girls. "Let's go. We're off to Shujen."