The room had a chair in the middle of it. It looked sized for a (female) dwarf, but the enchanter shoved Ne’avo into it all the same. She was still blindfolded, so wobbled and waved her arms before her rear made contact. The dwarven man then stepped back, activating a magic circle that had been built into the ground around the chair.

Feeling more than a little nervous, I shuffled back. Aara and Sukura had done the same, all of us as pressed against the wall as we could get with the low ceilings. Uké’el, though, seemed quite unphased.

“Mhm,” the enchanter said, looking at a book that sat on a pedestal beside the magic circle. “You’ve got quite a bit of magic on you, miss.”

“I… I might,” Ne’avo replied, looking a bit nervous.

“A couple of permanent transformation spells… the traces of magic have all but vanished on one of those. The muscle-boosting charm is still increasing the effectiveness of your labours, though,” the dwarven man said. “Hmm… there’s the durability enchantment on both you and that sword… and here it is, the untraceability charm. I must say, all these spells seem like they were expertly assembled. They must have cost a pretty coin.”

Ne’avo shrugged. “I didn’t have anything better to spend my gold on.”

“Gold,” Aara whispered. “Definitely nobility. Or a merchant’s daughter.”

“What do people normally say?” I replied, hoping my voice was quiet enough for Ne’avo not to hear.

“Silver is what normal people spend on magic,” Aara said.

“I have paid for things in gold,” Sukura offered.

“Yes, but that’s panning gold, not minted gold,” Aara countered. “She’s talking coin.”

Sukura gave a nod, and I decided to pretend I followed along. It wasn’t the first time since getting here that I realised it was better to feign understanding of cultural matters… though it was one of the first times I realised it in time to save myself embarrassment.

As we’d talked, the enchanter had examined the magicka flowing around Ne’avo that had not been her own. Apparently enchantments survived by being fed far more mana than they needed to function, the bulk of that mana working to draw in spiritual energy from the world around to counter all losses. The process wasn’t infinite, though. Only living things (or the undead, which were still sort of living adjacent) could truly maintain mana indefinitely. Enchantments cast by mortals inevitably faded, though Ne’avo’s was doing something clever to feed off her own magic.

Of course, her sword was firmly not the magic of mortals, but the work of the king of the gods himself. Apparently a gift to the royal family of the Holy Kingdom of Garzot, to protect them for all time… which begged the question how in the world Ne’avo had gotten it.

“Alright… so I was maybe in the Holy City when Nemza staged her coup,” she muttered, answering Uké’el’s question while the enchanter worked on removing the anti-tracing spell.

“… and?” Uké’el asked. “Being in the city and getting your hands on one of the most sacred artifacts of the royal family are two rather different matters.”

“I… well… the whole city was burning. People were panicking. And I… uh, I ended up near the palace. In the confusion and all that. I saw the sword and a bunch of ghouls or something about to steal it. I did what any dashing and heroic knight might do, and rushed in to save it,” she replied.

Her hesitation made me wonder if she was making things up, but… running into danger on an impulse to save a sword did seem like the sort of nonsense she’d try. 

Considering how she seemed so easily swayed by attractive women, and the way Nemza was pretty stunning (in a very evil sort of way), I wondered if Ne’avo had been tricked into helping with the early stages of the coup, and that was why she was being so evasive. Thankfully she seemed to be on their side now, though. That was good.

Mostly.

As long as she didn’t get distracted by evil being sexy again.

Something I could admit was a dangerous distraction.

“Still have to wonder how we’ve ended up with two nigh indestructible women who have no idea what they’re doing,” Uké’el muttered to herself. “Very strange luck.”

I blushed, but had no real defense. I’d been studying, so was therefore much closer to competent than I’d been when Loj had dropped me into battle… but I still only had the basics.

“Mhm… I think there’s no saving your sense of direction. That will have to wait until the charm wears itself dry,” the dwarven enchanter said, “but I can at least undo the portion that causes you to teleport. Which is the worst of it.”

Ne’avo lit up with a smile, seeming ready to loudly declare her thanks, before shifting, coughing awkwardly, and settling for a ‘sounds good’ in what she clearly hoped was a ‘cool’ voice. Or whatever the nearest concept there was to ‘cool’ here.

With the enchanter starting to work on drawing up a new magical circle, Uké’el chose that moment to head off. She had other matters to attend to. The rest of us followed, as it seemed the process would take up all of Ne’avo’s attention. Which meant we wouldn’t be getting any new information out of her. I gave a soft wish of good luck, then headed out into the hallway.

Even the many days I had been stuck in the low tunnels, I still hadn’t really learned how to crouch walk gracefully. I did at least know my thighs were going to be look amazing. That was something. (Still envies Aara being just barely short enough to fit fine.)

Shuffling after Uké’el, we soon learned the professors were planning something of a celebratory feast. They’d managed to find some old food stores, which were still fully supplied. Ghouls and zombies did not need food, after all.

There was still some suspicion the food might be poisoned, but between Aara and a number of mages with relevant specializations, they were able to prove everything was safe. Which then led to myself and Sukura being drafted, along with a dozen or so others, to build very basic fencing around the entrance way to the tunnels. Mostly just enough to keep zombies or ghouls that might still be in the city from accidentally wandering into the feasting area. It was better to bar them out and use them for target practice. 

If any real force were to actually attack, the rough construction (made as much of rope as anything else) would likely serve as nothing more than a tripping hazard. But it wasn’t meant to stop that.

The scouting parties had shown the city now seemed abandoned… though also significantly more damaged than they’d expected. I tried to hide my head behind my wings as they talked about the crater that had blown a hole in a large portion of the South Quarter. I wasn’t going to directly lie to place the blame elsewhere, but I could still whistle innocently and hope they didn’t ask me if I’d caused it.

To my relief, they didn’t ask much of anything, the main focus being on gathering food from any new granaries or grocers. Despite them having been besieged for longer than I’d been on Haquaria, there was still plenty to be salvaged. Salted meats lasted longer than seemed natural to me, and there were magical freezers, apparently. Frozen chambers marked with runes dug into the stone under the better to do regions of the community.

The feast that was starting to be prepared was going to consiste mostly of assorted grains and dried meats. A little bit of dried fruit had also been gathered. Things from the ice chambers weren't likely to thaw in time, but there was enough seasoning to ensure the rather basic meal smelled delicious by the time Ne’avo emerged from the tunnels. Which, luckily for her, was roughly when the sun started setting, so she didn’t have to wear her nightglasses.

“We’re in Guuji!” she said, wearing a large smile on her face as she strolled over to Sukura and I. “I know where I am! And I’m still here!”

“Um… yay?” Sukura offered.

“If I don’t have to worry about vanishing then I can stay in one place… and I can train!” Ne’avo added, shifting to once again flex her muscles, though there was an excitement this time that seemed… cute?

Maybe it was the sparkle in her eyes?

“With that indestructible skin… you’d probably be a good partner for Emily,” Sukura replied. “Um—sparring partner.”

Ne’avo nodded happily, while I turned to Sukura with a raised eyebrow.

“Shouldn’t I be sticking to a skilled partner still?” I asked.

“There’s benefits to letting two beginners clash,” she replied simply.

“Sparring buddies!” Ne’avo said, doing something akin to a fist pump to celebrate. 

Well, at least I was about to be the senior student. That was worth something. Even if it was only worth the most minimal satisfaction of not always being the one being yelled at.

Before I could worry about the issue any further, though, more of the survivors started filing out of the tunnels. I soon found myself awash in a flood of people wanting to congratulate me for saving them from the siege. I did my best to smile and nod. All the while hoping none of them lived in the part of the town I’d inadvertently mostly levelled. Though, it was probably better to be left homeless than to starve to death. So maybe I had done some level of good. 

Maybe?

They were definitely loading me up with too much praise, though. Just because I happened to be sort of a deity… and, apparently being a deity who left them alive and some part of the city intact while smiting enemies of the divine order was something to celebrate.

How bad were the other deities? Had Jolerk’s lack of regard about Uké’el’s life been typical for them? Not a case of desperate times leading to desperate measures?

Processing that left me rather more understanding when Kel nudged his way through the crowd with awe in his eyes. 

“That was so amazing!” he said, arms waving about with excitement. “The amount of mana you tossed about!”

“You… uh… you could tell?” I asked, glad that the crowd was starting to thin.

It seemed the allure of food roasting was enough to distract the half starved townsfolk from cheering me on. Sukura and Ne’avo were still nearby, though. Probably discussing the upcoming swordsmanship lessons, but I hadn’t really been able to keep track.

“I’m quite good at reading the flow of mana around me. Mum says it’s because of my dad… though she did have to train me for a long time before I totally understood it,” he replied. “I’m sure you’ll learn it faster than me, though.”

“That does sound like a very good skill,” I replied.

“Still… I can barely believe you were able to release three whole Pohaks of Mana on your own…” he said, trailing off with wonder written on his face.

“Three Pohaks of mana? Woah,” Ne’avo muttered from nearby.

“I’ll… I’ll guess that’s a lot?” I replied, turning to her and Sukura.

If Ne’avo knew what it meant, then surely it was rather basic, no? Well, looking at Sukura’s face, maybe it wasn’t. She seemed roughly as lost as I was.

“I—uh… I was never one for magic, but… if you’re a moon elf they make you learn some basics,” Ne’avo muttered, seeming deeply embarrassed to have revealed she knew something academic.

Nodding, I turned my attention back to Kel, who continued to gush about how exciting he considered the whole thing. 

We were called over to a table to eat, but that did nothing to interrupt Kel’s excitable ramblings. Even when he ran out of things he knew about me to toss praise on (from my wings to my horns to how little I actually needed to eat) he found other things to tell me about. Magic he’d learned recently was the bulk of it, as he remained convinced I would master whole schools of magic in no time. Because of this confidence, he happily imagined what my magicka pools might be able to manage with some of them. I could only really nod along, barely understanding half of what he talked about.

It reminded me a bit of listening to my younger cousins chat happily about the creatures in their video games, and the mechanics they had these days. All because I had played the second generation of a game that was now on its ninth generation. Which meant I knew about roughly… none of the names or mechanics they’d toss at me in those conversations.

That familiar confusion left me fairly happy when Uké’el finally told Kel it was time for bed, and led him off. Though it turned out he’d been largely protecting me from the various professors around, who all wanted to talk about even more complicated matters with me. How was I supposed to answer questions about the state of the war in the divine realm? I had even less to offer on their questions about the secrets of the universe itself, which they all seemed convinced a deity should know. They seemed to expect me to understand the origin of magic itself.

“She’s had at least a hundred lives since she was the first Vazehr,” Uké’el said, sitting down beside me and shooing the other professors off. “I’d like to see any of you remember anything from that many lives ago.”

The various aged professors muttered assorted grumblings, but largely left us alone.

As Aara, Sukura, and Ne’avo were all busy eating and drinking with the rest of the crowd, it meant that Uké’el and I were alone on the edge of it all. The advantages of having no great need to eat. (I had eaten a bit, to be able to compliment the cooks, but I didn’t have the need to fill a starved body.)

“I’m glad he’s gotten to meet you,” Uké’el said, tilting her head back towards the tunnels. “Growing up convinced you’re nothing but a scar on the world isn’t good for anyone. Seeing those feelings in the eyes of one’s own child is heart wrenching. I tried to hide it from him, but… there were times I thought he was asleep and discussed my condition and… well…. at least you’ve shown him there’s good to be found within divinity.”

“Happy to help,” I replied, not sure what else to say.

She nodded, and we sat quietly at the edge of the party for a few minutes. I felt myself starting to doze. I didn’t really need physical rest, obviously. But I was exhausted mentally. Too many days without sleep, and then too much mental exertion between the fights and the celebrations.

“I’m glad I met you too,” she said, pulling me back to wakefulness.

Blinking was about the most I could manage as a reply, though.

“It’s good to know that this world isn’t guaranteed to have cruel gods… there’s hope for real improve—ment,” she said, the last portion interrupted by a yawn, before her eyes closed.

She then tipped back, only saved from falling off the bench by my outstretched wing. I nudged her forward with it, to let her rest against my shoulder. Only to slowly doze off myself.