Now I could fully appreciate the predicament in which I had found myself!
Two months had elapsed since my arrival and establishment at the Drow Academy of Magic. I had just completed a thoughtful review of the memories I had inherited from Dordsh. His life had been long and eventful. He had been born into one of the great houses of Stlloshch, a name that was meant to be taken with a grain of salt. The city in which I now found myself was the first city to have been founded by the Drow. Once, a princely clan of light elves from Arda had rejected the light, leaving the blessed forests behind and taking their kin with them into the vast caverns that permeated their entire world. They had chosen the Spider Queen Llos as their patron deity, who had shown them this place as the ideal location for establishing a city and building temples in her honor. Tens of thousands of years had passed from then until Dordsh's birth. This city had grown strong and had become one of the most formidable forces within the dungeons, not just in name but in reality.
Throughout their history, the drow — as they now call themselves, having abandoned their former identity as forest elves — have acquired a notorious reputation, renowned for their cruelty and lack of honour, as well as any noble or moral virtues. With each passing generation, the teachings and doctrines of their deity become increasingly ingrained in their beliefs, rendering them unfit for integration into mainstream society.
Hypocrisy, deception, and duplicity are not only preached but also embraced as essential components of their worldview. The consequences of their actions extend beyond their own kind, affecting all intelligent beings who share their world. Their relentless pursuit of conflict often leads to the destruction of underground cities inhabited by dark dwarves, goblins, orcs, and other subterranean denizens. The primary objective of these conflicts is to sacrifice their enemies on the altar of their dark deity.
When the city refrains from launching large-scale attacks and wars for an extended period, Llos, their goddess, manipulates her priestesses into initiating massacres among themselves.. She is unconcerned about who ends up on her altar of sacrifice, and then in her chambers, so long as the flow of blood continues onto her altars unabated.
In the city of Stlloshh, governance was vested in a council comprised of the ten most powerful Houses, each with a varying number of seats on the council. The first House held ten seats, the second House nine, and so on in descending order. The tenth House, however, possessed only a single seat on the council.
Dordsh, born to a house in second rank on the council, had been striving to ascend to first rank for approximately a millennium. He was the offspring of a common dark elf warrior and a captive human slave, seized by his household during one of its forays to the surface, where numerous light elf women were taken as prisoners. The fate of these individuals was already precarious, but for him as the son of a light elf, it was even more so. Even among his own kin, he initially faced contempt, until it became apparent that he possessed a remarkable aptitude for magic.
At the age of fifteen, he was sent to an academy, where he fully realized his potential. Amidst a community of moral outcasts and sadists, he swiftly realized that without power as his ally, he would remain insignificant in the eyes of others. Any woman in his household would have him killed without hesitation, with no repercussions for herself. He was viewed as worthless by the matriarchs! To compensate for this, he worked tirelessly.. It was not his intention to seek equality or to aspire to a position of privilege; his goal was the utter annihilation of this den of vice. Having been imbued with knowledge from his mentors, he remained undaunted, even in the absence of those who might have recognized his potential. He was prepared to push those in front and strike those behind.
Throughout his life, he engaged in numerous battles and full-fledged conflicts, occasionally emerging unscathed and evidently honing his skills in the art of eliminating his adversaries. At the tender age of seven hundred, he was entrusted with the role of rector at their city's magical academy. This appointment was the culmination of a complex plot orchestrated by the head of his lineage, involving a web of intrigue that encompassed everything from bribery and coercion to the elimination of a rival candidate nominated by the rival house in the city's political landscape.
He was nominally the rector of the academy and is regarded as an ancestor, having renounced his family upon assuming office. However, these are mere words, for he remains as subservient to the head of his house as ever.
He held this lifetime position for over thirteen centuries. Then disaster struck, with himself as its primary cause. The matriarchs of the city council resolved to summon their deity in the flesh, and a vast amount of effort and resources were devoted to this endeavor. The very scheme to summon the deity involved the following essential elements:
1. A massive shielding circuit was constructed and energized. Its purpose was to conceal what was taking place from the sight of the luminous gods of their realm, who would intervene immediately if they discovered what was transpiring.
2. Obtain a form that would serve as a transient vessel capable of enduring the might of Llos for a period of at least several weeks. It was during this time that Llos required to establish her presence and summon her full power.
3. Countless sacrifices were demanded, literally tens of thousands in number. These sacrifices were necessary to maintain the cloaking veil and to summon Llos herself, as well as to provide sustenance for her, as she is a predatory entity.
With the assistance of Llos herself, her priestesses orchestrated a grand sacrifice, summoning her newborn from the depths of the goddess's cave. This newborn was a diminutive spider, no larger than the palm of the hand, devoid of intellect but bound to its mother with an unbreakable bond. This was the first step in fulfilling their plan, as the body that would one day become Llos' avatar.
Over the course of a century, this spider was fed on the minds of magically gifted individuals, both captive and slave, as well as its own kin who had committed crimes. And now, it was no longer a mere spider, but a colossal creature, the size of a two-story house, wielding the power of an archdemon.
In order to secure the necessary number of sacrifices to summon the goddess, the city engaged in fierce wars of conquest throughout this century. The primary action commenced once they had amassed the requisite number of intelligent individuals, reaching a figure close to twenty thousand captives, even slightly exceeding the required amount.
Dordsh may not have been directly involved in this incident. He intended to depart this city with his female slave, a fellow half-blood like himself, and their newborn child. The thought of his baby girl brought a warm feeling to his heart. She was the most adorable infant!
He had meticulously prepared for this journey, having secured an enchanted means of transportation to the surface and obtained the coordinates of a nearby temple dedicated to one of the indigenous light deities, who upheld ideals of justice and loyalty. However, it was not as easy to evade the notice of his own kind as it was to elude the Spider Goddess. All drow, including Dordsh, had been initiated into her worship from an early age.
Upon discovering his absence and suspecting his departure, any priestess of Llos would promptly invoke the goddess's aid, mentioning Dordsh's name. In response, the deity would bestow her curse upon the defector, transforming the drow into a dreaded drayder.. This is a mindless chimera of a dark elf and a spider, utterly subservient to the drow matron.
Thus he waited, while the city was engaged in the ritual of conjuring his goddess. This granted him the opportunity to reach the temple with his beloved and their child on the upper plane. There, he could seek the benediction of the light deity by joining their ranks, after which Llos would have no further control over his destiny and that of his family.
But fate had other plans. Three days prior to the ritual, his mother summoned him back to their former home, where she tasked him with several errands. One of these tasks was particularly distasteful to him, and he attempted to protest, unwilling to undertake such a task. This drew the matriarch's ire, though she refrained from directly addressing his objection and reaffirming his position.
The following day, as his beloved returned home from the marketplace with trivial purchases for their child, she met her demise on the very threshold of their doorstep. A crossbow bolt, tipped with a poisonous tip, pierced her back from behind, leaving her lifeless in the presence of the sentinel guard stationed at the staff entrance to the academy.
There was no need for conjecture as to who might have taken her life. The answer was clear. No one in the city would have dared to trespass upon his property. His beloved had been a slave, and all in the city were aware of the name of the most powerful mage and former member of the second house, who would soon be at the right hand of Llos (though which one? the goddess was a spider).
He had no doubt that she had been taken in retribution for his «insolence», at the instigation of the matriarch of his former household. Had his daughter not been in his care, he would have set out to exact his vengeance at that moment. Yet he doubted he could confront the first priestess of Llos within the city. She was the matriarch of his old house, now favored by the goddess on the brink of her manifestation to the world.
Nevertheless, he could not simply depart from this place unscathed. He had devised a plan to disrupt their plans.
He was fully assembled and prepared to make his escape on the appointed day and hour for the ritual. At the precise moment when the ritual had commenced and could not be halted, with the entire female populace of the city engaged in reciting the katrahs of invocation to their deity, he employed an artifact procured from the temple dedicated to the light god Melchior during one of his raids to the surface.
This artifact was of divine origin and resembled a diminutive silver signaling horn. Its use allowed one to summon the attention of the deity of Justice. This act was performed while everyone was immersed in a trance induced by the recitation of a language that had been long forgotten in this realm, resurrected for the first time in a hundred and fifty millennia. Through this action, he disrupted the privacy so meticulously maintained by the priestesses of Llos.
Having summoned divine attention by blowing the horn, the protagonist, having invoked the presence of the dark deity, discarded it, seized his weapon, and employed another of his superficial trophies. This artifact allowed one portion to be transported to another location. No barriers or shields could impede this process. Through the use of teleportation, he materialized fifteen kilometers from the city, where the second portion of his artifact was concealed. It served as one of his hidden sanctuaries, and he maintained numerous such locations along eight distinct routes leading from their underground realm to the surface. He had been meticulously preparing for this escape for an extended period. However, this particular route proved ineffective in facilitating his departure.
Once he was beyond the confines of the city, he sensed the presence of multiple divine entities and their enchantments. These light deities were resolutely opposed to the advent of a malevolent deity into their realm, and they had resorted to extraordinary measures to prevent it. They were unable to descend into the physical world, as neither avatars nor the beloved heroes they nurtured were present.
In a remarkable display of unity, the entire pantheon of light deities had converged, compelled to undertake an act they despised: expending their energy. Employing immense power, they forcibly extracted the city of Stlloshh, along with several dozen kilometers of surrounding terrain, from the fabric of existence, where Llos was poised to manifest. They hurled this stone sphere into the void of chaos.
It is likely that this was their attempt to permanently eliminate Llos. She was almost fully incarnated in the body that she had prepared for herself, and there was a strong possibility that she would have been consumed by chaos. However, Llos was not the dark and insidious deity of their reality without reason. She drained all the strength and vitality from her priestesses in order to halt the ritual and return to her own realm from the occupied body. And apparently, she succeeded.
What happened next is difficult to speculate about, but we do have some clues. From the altar of Llos, located on the most potent source of magic in the city, something emerged. This was where her embodiment took place, and it emerged when she fled, severing all connections that bound them together so that they would not be exposed to pure and unadulterated chaos. The latter was about to engulf this fragment of reality and assimilate it into itself.
Chaos — such chaos! The nexus, having lost its connection to the mundane world, along with the former altar of Llos upon it, unwittingly managed to reconstitute itself, emerging as a source of arcane energy. It absorbed and transmuted the chaos into neutral mana, effectively taking the entire material realm surrounding it under its protective auspices.
Around this multi-kilometer clump, which at that point extended a few dozen kilometers in diameter, a globe-spanning barrier materialized, serving as a bulwark against chaos. In essence, the current realm has already become an independent world, shielded from chaos and endowed with a source. Moreover, its energies are not merely devoted to maintaining this shield but also to fostering the growth and evolution of this world itself.
However, the problem lies in the fact that the entity bound to the altar is consuming a significant portion of the source's energy. The spider's body, which never became Llos's receptacle, is still alive and, having fed on the source through the altar for millennia, must have become incredibly powerful. What am I speaking of if I, as an almost ordinary basilisk, could nearly reach the level of an archimage in just five hundred years? And here, Llos' daughter has been sitting on a source of energy hundreds of times stronger than Hogwarts' for fifty thousand years.
And as if that were not enough, the source, tied to the offspring of the spider goddess, has adapted to her needs. It no longer provides neutral mana, but mana specific to arthropod creatures. This will have a profound impact on the local fauna beyond the barrier surrounding the city. Now I understand the state of affairs in this newly created world.
Llos, in her flight from chaos, dealt the final blow to her own priestesses. The men, however, were not so fortunate. They were cursed with the transformation into draiders — a curse imbued in their bodies and souls during their childhood, when their priestesses dedicated them to the service of Llos in her temple.
Fortunately, Dordsh had sensed the presence of chaos and retreated to his academy, locking himself in his office. Had he been out in the open, his strength would have grown rapidly, making him a formidable opponent. While draiders may lack intelligence, they are not without cunning, allowing them to learn and adapt to their new abilities. Such a creature, with access to powerful archmage-level spells, would be a catastrophe on a state level.
Now, regarding drow magic, I was both right and wrong about the majority of this nation's priestly magics. This holds true only for the female-gifted drow, and this particular branch of magic is now almost entirely useless to me. Without access to Llos' magic, without being a priest of Llos — which is impossible due to my gender — I cannot perform any of the spells associated with this specific school of magic.
It is markedly different from what I am familiar with in my own world. Llos' priestly magic is hundreds of times more potent than that of Morrigan. To justify this, it must be acknowledged that Llos is tens of thousands of years older than our own gods, and her influence and presence reach across countless realms.
In principle, I could rearrange the incantations of the priestesses of Llos with some reservations under the influence of the egregore of the One, but then they would lose more than half their effectiveness.
Firstly, the energy of Llos, which is a small portion of the energy present in all the spells of Llos priestesses, has a toxic spectrum that the egregore of the One lacks. Secondly, the nature of Llos incantations implies a supernatural origin, which the egregore rejects.
Nevertheless, this school of sorcery is currently useless to me. At least until I become the God of Magic, whose power essence must be toxic, simply because I am a serpent. And once I achieve this status, my ninth-sphere energy should almost perfectly replace the power of Llos in spells.
However, the realm of Drow culture was not merely characterized by their priestly school of magic. They also excelled in the realm of elemental spells, including curses, as well as alchemy, which encompassed a wide range of practices such as elixir-making, potion-brewing, poison-concocting, classical alchemical processes, and bioconstruction.
The aspect of alchemy known as bioconstruction by the Drow was particularly intriguing. Within this branch of magical science, the Drow were engaged in the creation of poisonous or otherwise beneficial forms of simple living organisms. Additionally, they delved into the study of various poisonous substances derived from natural sources.
In essence, it was a form of chimerological research, where the subjects of experimentation and investigation included viruses, bacteria, lichens, fungi, microorganisms, and parasites. One notable achievement was the development of a fungus by the Drows, which served as an exceptional waste disposer. This fungus was capable of consuming any organic matter, while releasing over seventy percent of the liquid content of its food source, leaving only fifteen percent of water for its own needs.. Simultaneously, it enhances the enchanted ambience and is quite nourishing and palatable. Its flavour, however, could be improved, but it is inexpensive and readily available. It is ideal for surviving under prolonged siege or in a confined ecosystem, or for a worm whose offspring can endure for millennia. Upon exposure to heat, they can withstand temperatures ranging from absolute zero to several hundred degrees Celsius.
This pathogen once poisoned an entire port city, resulting in the survival of less than fifty thousand inhabitants. These creatures propagated rapidly within the hosts' bodies, growing to ten centimeters in size within a week after hatching. Then, they burrowed through the intestines and penetrated the internal organs, causing irreparable damage. Unless detected early, there is no hope for the victim unless a master healer is present.
It is true that there is a small, albeit surmountable by practice, obstacle in my quest to master the arcane arts of the drow. It is not the entirety of their knowledge, but rather the portion that is accessible to me due to my gender and inherent magical inclinations. The spiritual shells of drow are intricately interwoven, although not to the same degree as I have observed in the case of Khohnan and his kin, who exhibit approximately forty percent of the KhaAmmarian capacity. In their magical manipulations, the drow rely on seventy percent mana and only thirty percent of other spiritual energies.
And how delightful it is that I am now endeavoring to develop in a balanced and harmonious manner, attending to each of the layers of my soul. Thanks to this, I possess the requisite degree of control over all the energies that are within my reach, generated by my soul and its constituent parts.
This is essential for replicating drow spells, even without the intricate intertwining of spiritual origins. Drow intuitively employ a nefarious blend of energies in their magical practices, which is the foundation of all their spells. Where they do not need to deliberate, I must delve deep and extract the precise amount of energy from each layer of my being. Then, I must concoct a potion from these energies, and only then can I imbue the spell with it for activation and execution.
However, it is a solvable problem. With a bit more practice, I will be able to transform this knowledge into skillful performance when my spiritual layers become accustomed to one another and learn to collaborate.
I was also greatly intrigued by Dordsh's research into the phenomenon of turning unwanted Llos into draiders, a process embedded in their genetic code. It is a near-flawless mechanism for werewolfism, and where it is possible to transform from a humanoid form into such a creature, it is also feasible to incorporate a mechanism for reverse reincarnation, with the exception of the mental module that replaces the consciousness of the secondary form — let us term it the combat form.
The implications for enhancing the already virtually indestructible Witcher are immense! And the breadth of choices for combat forms is vast!
Oh, for heaven's sake! Once again, I have ventured into the farthest reaches, eagerly anticipating, practically rubbing my hands together, the myriad of intriguing possibilities that lie ahead. At the same time, I find myself utterly captivated by the vast expanse of my imagination.
Ah, but I am always like this! Sitting in the crux of the multiverse, amidst a stone block suspended in chaos, my mind is abuzz with thoughts. There is a child of Llos that I must attend to. May anyone ever accuse me of neglecting my offspring. That would be a shame. Am I to engage in a battle with the progeny of chthonic monstrosities? I encountered the son of Dagon once, and now I am about to face the abode of the embodiment of human hatred.
It would be much easier if I could harness the power of the Kha'ammarians. However, alas, reality is what it is. The spiritual essences of these individuals were intricately interwoven, and all of them were further bound by a unified energetic network that radiated from a central spiritual organ, rendering their magical abilities futile without it.
I am certain that this is the legacy of the Aryan lineage, passed down through the bloodlines of those who descended from these fae and their savage human ancestors. Without the aid of this extraordinary gift, I cannot perform all the feats of magic. However, the drow might attempt such feats if they were to undergo the same spiritual training and meditation that all Kha'Ammarians undergo from an early age.
Hmmm, that is an intriguing notion! I possess knowledge of their magical arts and have a young drow at my disposal! How fascinating!
That's it! Ha! There I go again, already spinning around in my mind, devising a plan for my ward's initial training. A natural-born scientist and creative thinker — that's a given!
Time to stop thinking about the far future and return to reality. In the Academy of Magic there is a repository of dangerous artifacts. The city has existed for over a hundred thousand years, and the dwarves have not been idle all this time. They brought here everything they could acquire in their raids and battles. It was a sacred law: representatives of the magi, and hence the academy, had the first choice of spoils. Of course, this applied to artifacts of other deities, as well as artifacts and creations of other intelligent beings inhabiting the world and its closest surroundings.
The academy of magic in their city is an entity within an entity. It is a unique social institution where male drow assume responsibilities and acquire certain rights. During their studies, they are officially placed at the disposal of the rector, effectively ceasing to be members of their respective houses.
Within the academy, all students enjoy equality among themselves, save for the occasional hazing that occurs between senior and junior classes. This arrangement aligns with my worldview, as it reflects a semi-militaristic approach to organizing daily life and the educational process within this institution. It complements my understanding of a social structure that does not conform to a total matriarchal system.
From Dordsh's memories, I now know that this academy was founded by a mage who was adept in the worship of Vaeron. Vaeron is another dark deity of the drow pantheon, also known as the Masked Man, and he is the patron god of magic and secrecy, making him one of the most revered deities among male drow, who have few avenues for advancement in their society if they wish to live for as long as possible.
There are only a few ways for a drow to progress in their society:
1. To become a powerful warrior. However, even here, under the tutelage of Vaeron, achieving meaningful results would be easier with a distinct talent for the craft. Given that most drow warfare strategies revolve around sabotage and ambush, the patronage of a deity who grants his followers the ability to blend in and remain hidden would be highly advantageous.
2. The second path to survival for a human being, should he not wish to awaken one day upon the altar of sacrifice for the Spider Queen, lies in the pursuit of mastery as a powerful sorcerer. This, in turn, necessitates the selection of Vaeron as one's divine patron, facilitating the unlocking of one's magical prowess.
Vaeron, a deity, does not possess a single dedicated temple; at least, Dordshu remained unaware of any such structures. However, this fact does not hinder the presence of his followers in every city inhabited by the Drow, nor the transmission of his teachings through oral tradition among the male portion of the dark elf population. This aligns with logic, as he is the sole deity within the pantheon of the Drow who grants favour to men, bestowing upon them abilities that are both tangible and crucial in their society.
Thus, upon the establishment of this city, the council of matrons from the first ten houses designated the most powerful mage among the male populace to preside over the academy. This individual was empowered to enforce a magical pact between the academy and the council, stipulating that any man who enrolled in and pursued his studies at the academy would enjoy immunity from the jurisdiction of the priestesses, unless he were found guilty of committing a grave offense against the city or the household to which he was affiliated.
I have witnessed several episodes from Dordsh's past. One such instance involved a fatal assault on him at the hands of an acquaintance who had been struck down with a whip after inadvertently coming into contact with a drow priestess. Dordsh was fortunate in that he was already enrolled at the Academy of Magic, and his potential was recognized by those in attendance. He was promptly admitted to the institution, where he would have been expected to enroll upon reaching the age of fifteen.
This was the reason why the priestess refrained from succumbing to the initial impulse to administer lethal blows with her whip. Instead, she only lashed Dordsh once. The young Dordsh, then eight years of age, spent a month recuperating under the care of a healer at home.
The battle lash of the Drow women, each one a priestess of Llos, is an integral part of their religious practice, imbued with a fraction of their deity's power. The injuries inflicted during such rituals may take years to heal, not only due to the constant bleeding but also because the essence of Llos' might is a potent poison that threatens the very essence of life itself.
Dordsh, however, had been subjected to a lesser form of this power, having fallen upon a low-ranking priestess in the Spider Queen's cult, where he had been exposed to only a fraction of the full force of Llos. As a result, his wound healed relatively swiftly, albeit not entirely without consequence.
And there would be numerous such moments in Dordsh's memory — thousands in his long life. He was a fully fledged Archmage of Battle Magic, specializing in elemental magic (including fire, darkness, death, and blood), as well as curses. It is reasonable to doubt that I would be able to overcome him in a deadly battle. Perhaps I could escape. Perhaps I could ambush him or engage him in battle at a predetermined location. But a direct confrontation is unlikely. In his defense, I can only say that he is thrice my age. However, he has grown up and become what he is — in a society where everyone is prepared to betray anyone else, driven solely by self-interest, and where no one is ashamed of going to extremes and shedding blood.
The information about the weapon academy also piqued my interest, and now, thanks to Dordsh's memories, I have access to its archives. There are numerous trophy weapons and items crafted by master blacksmiths and artisans from the finest materials available in their realm.
I was particularly intrigued by the armour once worn by a prince and hero of an ancient elven race, now a legendary figure in the folklore and folk tales of the light elves. This armour consists of a complete set of chainmail, bachterz, a helmet, greaves, scabbards for weapons, sheaths for weapons, and a round convex shield. In its inactive state, the shield is no wider than the wearer's hand, but in combat it can extend to a length of one and a half meters.
Beneath this armoured mail lies an exceptional undergarment that boasts incredible durability and a variety of beneficial properties. These include accelerated strength regeneration, healing enchantments, enhanced resistance to toxins and other harmful substances, speed enhancements, a general boost in strength, and is crafted from an alloy of orichalcum and mithril, with the addition of ancient dragon bones.
The drow acquired this item during the formative years of their species. They acquired it through deception, as one of the traitorous princely Houses launched a treacherous attack on the home of their erstwhile allies, with whom they shared many blood ties. The drow's treachery proved successful, allowing them to catch their victims off guard, resulting in the slaughter of all with minimal casualties.
Ellinor, a legendary hero and the head of the House who fell victim to this treachery, was not afforded the opportunity to participate in the resistance against the traitorous assault. His fate was sealed when he was first given a poisoned beverage, and as he began to succumb to its effects, his head was severed with a sword strike. This marked the beginning of a campaign aimed at the destruction and appropriation of the resources of one of the most powerful Houses within the Forest State of the Elves at that time.
Apart from the armor, I also took an interest in the stellar metal battle hoop. From what Dordsh once read in archival documents on the contents of the treasury, I understood that it provided access to a constant flow of mana equivalent to the archmage's level of mana production when the stars are visible in the sky. In short, it provided a surge of power under the open sky, regardless of whether the sun or the stars were overhead. And if so, having another channel for mana would be advantageous.
I try to adhere to the old military maxim that there is only "very little", "little", and "little but can't carry any more" ammunition. I could not resist such a golden opportunity to enhance my combat capabilities. There is always something else for which mana can be used.
The remainder of the contents in the Order's exclusive armory and its repository of artefacts proved less captivating to me, with the majority comprising divine artifacts or emblems associated with diverse religious practices. After all, my resolve does not extend to embracing and placing my trust in weapons imbued with the full power of an alien consciousness.
The artefacts and weapons crafted by renowned non-divine artisans may serve as a means of detecting stealthy attacks and second floors, but those created by a divine being cannot. While a divine artefact may appear harmless and fulfill its intended purpose, it also possesses the ability to reveal its intrinsic nature and reveal its diagnostic enchantments and rituals. However, should a deity choose to focus his attention on his creation, he could instantaneously alter its essence, along with its attributes, parameters, and functions. Thus, I had no need for such a device.
Nevertheless, should I ever encounter any adepts associated with the deity whose artefacts reside in my storage chambers, they could prove valuable assets for negotiation or even serve as gifts in the event of need. The greater the array of solutions available to address various scenarios, the greater the level of security one can achieve.
This city is a veritable treasure trove, brimming with resources. Hundreds of thousands of suits of armour would be ideal for my witches, along with first-rate weaponry and other useful items. All that remains is to clear the city, eliminate the spawn of Llos, and persuade Leshy to fulfill the payment owed under our agreement.
These objectives have been clearly defined for some time, and the plan of action, along with the sequence of events, has been established. Consequently, the tasks have been assigned. However, I did not act hastily. Haste was not conducive to my goals. They have been here for millennia, and they will remain here. I had access to training grounds, an extensive library, knowledge inherited from Dordsh, which required verification, and several intriguing artifacts to examine. If they posed no threat to me and their characteristics corresponded to those described in archival records, I would test them myself.