Ah. She's left then. Abandoned me.

The Goddess has been distant since we've arrived in Suprema. Or maybe she's merely returned us to our usual distance, done – for now – with personally tutoring me in the mysteries of magic. I learned more from her in a matter of days than from a dozen of the finest tutors in Lumineux over the course of decades it seems. Her knowledge and power is boundless and to have had some of that shared with me – if only briefly – is an honor the likes of which I've never even heard of being bestowed. It's humbling – it shows just how great her expectations for me are. Which is why this current distance cuts more deeply than I'd like to admit. I'd felt a bit special for a time there.

If only I had managed to control myself with that human wretch, perhaps the Goddess would be less distant. Her disappointment at that time had been palpable and justified. It was my plan after all, to approach the humans as friends before anything else – to exhaust that option first.

But.

But.

Seeing people just speaking – just casually speaking – to the Goddess is nearly more than I can take. I'm aware that time has passed but for me it feels like just weeks ago when I was still a high ranking member of The Order of Alexandria, where demons both mighty and frail gave daily devotions to the Goddess in the Grand Cathedral. Where only the very highest members of the Order could even see the Goddess and no one would dare approach her. The very thought of a demon doing such was absurd – the only result of such an absurdity was death at the hands of the Order. To even suggest such a thing was a sort of blasphemy, counter to all the Order's teachings. To make your words heard by the Goddess – the road was long.

First only the highest ranking members of the Order could initiate such a petition, and only if they could show sufficient cause to satisfy the other members of that highest circle, a lengthy process of demonic politicking was always involved at this step. If the would-be petitioner somehow managed to secure the blessing of all the other highest ranking members of the Order they could then look forward to many lengthy ceremonies and rituals the petitioner had to perform to have their petition heard, one such ritual took not less than thirty days of channeling a truly absurd amount of energy. At the very shortest it was a years long process, and the result – as I understand – was oft as not such petitions were disregarded completely. The Goddess was a strong believer in self-sufficiency and rarely lent any sort of direct aid to her flock. So for a human to just walk up... the feelings seeing that raised are not kind to say the least.

So these past few weeks had been slightly dreamlike for me, speaking to and interacting with the Goddess on a daily basis – even being taught by her. To the point that she was even going out of her way to hug and hold and touch me. Passing her idle time playing odd games with me – though she said she was training. It's unbelievable. It's like I'd died and gone to heaven. Or maybe I'd died in that crypt under the Grand Cathedral and this was all some sort of dream flashing through my mind in the last seconds of my life – I think a bit more cynically.

But I've not been dreaming. This is just who the Goddess is. A long suffering being, forced to clean up the mess left behind by her useless children. A being of immense power and wisdom letting the years slip by with disinterest. Now, however; now that she can't afford to sit idle I get to see the Goddess. As she is when she decides to engage the world around her. A beauty so perfect it almost hurts to look at but a vulnerable sort of beauty. Lonely almost. Bored certainly. Always looking around – drinking in the world around her through her half-lidded eyes, like a child seeing a million new things for the first time. If not for our connection, through which I can feel her power – so huge it feels it could swallow the world – if not for the Brand of divinity that connects us; I might mistake her for just another demon.

Ever since we entered Suprema though things have changed. I should have realized it sooner but if we are to travel this world, inevitably other people will see her too. Meet her. Get to know her. That realization hurt a bit and maybe it's due to that I overreacted so badly to that human, something base like jealousy coloring my actions. Causing me to make demands above my station. And now she's left. Sauntering casually out of my life, as easily as she sauntered in.

Well maybe that's dramatic.

But she is leaving. The humans around us, a pack of crude weaklings, watch with me as she casually walks away – back the way we came. Seeing her perfect form the eyes of the humans are filled with a wide range of emotions: lust for her, fear of her, anger at her, but mostly – overwhelmingly – awe. They don't understand why, I can see it in their faces, that they don't understand why they feel an almost overpowering urge to bow and scrape – to throw themselves at her feet – laid low by just her presence. Every human we've come across has experienced the same effect to some degree, though their reactions have varied the impetus has been the same. Different men will react differently when confronted by something so far beyond the framework of their existence. A certain suicidal contingent will even attempt something like robbery.

“Is tha alright girlie?” A rough voice asks from my side. Shaking me from my reverie, reminding me – I have a job to do. The Goddess is counting on me, she wouldn't just abandon me entirely! I just. I just need to do this. Quickly. And I can return to her side. So, smothering my raging emotions, I just nod.

“Yes. Milady is just as capable as I, there's no danger.” I say it aloud, a warning to the gathered humans, but also a reassurance to myself. She is the Goddess. There is nothing that could harm her. There is no need for this cool feeling of dread seeping into me. I suppose emotions aren't rational things are they?

“At any rate, I'd like to take you up on your offer, if it's still extended?” With those words I push the lingering thoughts of my mistress from my mind – turning my full attention to the job at hand.

The man, Gorim, turns his eyes back to me and gives a slow nod. “Come on in.” He says – pushing the door wide and walking through. Stepping lightly, I follow him inside – into a large room that seems to be a common area of some sort, with chairs and benches, with a half dozen low stone counters against the far wall. There are two wooden doors visible behind those counters and a stone staircase that leads up and out of sight. There are more humans inside, a few of the same thuggish variety that I saw outside – on the chairs and benches – and a few that seem slightly more professional wearing matching navy blue robes and standing behind the counters. One of the robed humans, her robe bearing some sort of crest on the shoulder, calls out to Gorim.

“No problems I take it guildmaster?”

“None. As you can see. Thanks for your bloody concern though Sheryl, you're a real big help when these troll droppings are rioting and tryin' ta tear the building down around us.” Gorim responds belligerently.

“We all have our roles to play guildmaster, sadly – mine does not involve swinging around an oversized lump of iron like an idiot, I leave that in your capable hands. And by the way.” Here her voice sharpens – becoming serious. “Who's the girl?”

Gorim glances back at me, weighing his words. “She's a hopeful.”

“What? Look at her head Gorim! She looks like a damn Tarisian. And there hasn't been one of them on the rolls for over a decade – which makes her a godscursed dodger.” The woman's tone is acidic; her eyes fixed on my hair. Maybe I should have glamoured it another color, I thought red was fine because it's within the natural spectrum of human hair colors – but apparently not.

“Shut up Sher – I told you dinnit I? She's a hopeful.” Gorim's voice has taken some steel. And I'm left to wonder exactly what in the hells these people are talking about. Tarisian? Hopeful? Dodgers and ledgers? I'm starting to regret my haste in coming to this place – it might have been wise to acquire some degree of general knowledge beforehand. Hopefully it won't matter though, if I can get either of these humans alone I doubt they will be able to resist my Charm – I've already dismissed the rest of the humans in the room as obviously unimportant. Which is why I almost sigh aloud when a third human cuts in.

“The hell do you mean a hopeful Gorim? A hopeful? Who's her sponsor? You? This is some bullshit I've been trying to get my brother on the list for two years but this bitch walks in off the street, waves her tits around, and that's that? The fuck is that?” The vulgar man is ranting – yelling at Gorim – spittle flying. “There's a process Gorim, ain't you told me that shit enough that my fuckin' ears are bleedin' from hearin' about your precious fucking process? So who the fuck is she and what the fu-”

The third human is slammed to the stone floor – cutting off his complaining – and Gorim looms over him. One heavy leather boot pressing into his chest, the smaller human being crushed under the giant of a man.

“Sha tha fuck up Red. We tested yur worthless little pup and he couldn't cut it, could he? Don't whine and make a spectacle of yourself errytime somebody with talent worth a damn walks through the door. When your little shit brother can plow through Marc and his whole crew with his bare fuckin' hands – you come talk to me.” Gorim leans forward, pressing more weight onto the fool – and I can hear an ominous cracking. “Until then you just keep your damn idiot mouth shut and keep collectin' them cores.” At that he steps back, eyes sweeping the room. “And that goes for all of you – even you Sher – I seen this girl's talent meself, so she's a hopeful because I says she's a hopeful.”

The woman – Sheryl – gives a long suffering sigh and nods. “You're the boss Gorim. You say she's a hopeful, she's a hopeful – hell I'll draw up her papers. But it's not gonna be pretty when the Imperials come sniffing around – they'll know just looking at her.”

“Imperials can know whatever the hell they want Sher, I'm the guildmaster remember? If it comes to that just send 'em up to me. But for now if you'll come with me girl? Seems we have some things to discuss.” His accent becomes much less noticeable when he's calmed down. Idly I wonder exactly how my mistress' magic functions – that it would let me understand an unknown language and also it's regional dialects apparently? Not important right now, so I dismiss the thought – instead giving the large human an affirmative nod.

Most of the other humans have accepted Gorim's dismissal. The blue robed humans returning their attention to their tasks, something to do with corrupted hearts – or “Unbound Cores” if you prefer – at their counters. Collecting them from the adventurers it looks like in exchange for small round coins of various sizes and materials, a promising start – proof maybe, that I'm in the right place. I want to ask about them immediately but one human has not accepted the dismissal it seems.

“If you're recruiting a hopeful another member should be present to witness Gorim.” Sheryl interjects instantly after seeing me nod and move to follow Gorim.

“Come along then, if ya like Sher, I don't care.” Gorim says.

“And leave the receiving area unattended? Do you want to get us all strung up by the Imperials? You know at least one member has to be here at all times.” She chides.

“Then stay! That was my intention from the start lass, in case ya couldn't understand.”

“And I'm implying it might be wise to wait a while until another member can be present you hammerheaded buffoon, we do have a process do we not?!”

Gorim gives a dismissive wave of his hand and starts ascending the stone staircase that leads out of the room. “Come along girlie.” He says to me. “Just keep your eyes on the cores Sher, I'll handle this.” He tosses that line behind us as we ascend. Only a fuming silence answers.

“Finally.” Gorim exhales the word. Even as we reach another door – this one iron – and he fishes out a key from a pocket in his leather pants. “That woman has been a member less than a month ya know? She's so high strung it's insufferable. So afraid the imps are gonna strip her membership and have her shipped off to The Frontline, she can't help but jump at shadows. I hope you won't hold it against us overmuch.” He smiles at me – his slab-like face contorting strangely – as he delivers that line and opens the door to what looks to be his personal office.

It's a large room, dominated by a solid wooden desk with a lavish chair behind it. In front of the desk sit a pair of simple wooden chairs – for guests presumably – and the pelt of some beast is proudly displayed on the floor, acting as a rug, and giving the small stone room a bit of warmth. The left wall is covered by a huge map – of Suprema I assume – if it's accurate at all I've just stumbled across something very valuable I think with a smile. And perhaps most interestingly this room is illuminated by a magical item – a fist sized stone on the ceiling is emitting a soft white light – the first such overt use of magic I've seen among the humans so far. It reminds me of the everburning torches of the Grand Cathedral – would that I had my mistress' senses, I could determine the worth of the thing. All my eyes can tell me is that it is a glowing bauble.

“Membership with the Adventurer's Guild – well it's a well compensated occupation if you take my meaning girlie. Trinkets like that are the least of what you stand to gain by joining us.” Gorim took my interest in the light as an excuse to launch into his sales pitch – even as he rounded the desk and sat heavily into his chair. I mirror his movement, carefully settling myself into the smaller guest chair. My goal here is information and in that regard there is no such thing as 'too much' so I launch into a bit of light probing – carefully trying to make sure to meet the man's eyes.

“It was my understanding that to join the Adventurer's Guild you had to provide proof of your service, something to do with universal conscription in these lands?”

“Oh aye, aye. Dodgers are just turrible people girl, and the Adventure's Guild can't brook their presence acourse! But – the Adventure's Guild is funded almost entirely by the crown as of now. By most right-headed ways of thinkin' we're just another arm of the Imperial military, one known to contract work out to – unsavory characters. The kinds of characters that can't cut it on The Frontline for one reason or another, so they wash up back here – all trained up to kill after their conscription with nothing to fight. Until we in the Adventure's Guild nudge em in the right direction, you understand?” He gave me his slab-faced grin, meeting my eyes unhesitatingly.

“I do understand the general functionality of the Guild but how that is pertinent to my situation eludes me I'm afraid, ser...?” While speaking I lean forward in the small guest chair, upturning my eyes slightly, and 'accidentally' exposing a bit of cleavage from the low 'v' cut of my black dress. Little movements like that are essential for applying a Charm, distracting the eye while the magic does its work.

“Gorim. Just call me Gorim girlie. And well it's just like I said, the Adventure's Guild is – by everyone's reckoning – just another part of the Imperial Army, less focused on uniforms and salutes but still a part. So if you do your five here in Shadfer, or up north on The Frontline – either way as far as the crown's concerned the jobs done. Obligation's fulfilled.”

“And that is why all those men outside gather here?”

“Hah! No not at all girlie. Those louts crowd around because they ain't got nothing else to do with their miserable lives. Cause they're liars and thieves and cowards with no skill but swingin' a lump of iron like a moron until some Unbound relieves 'em of their worthless heads. Couldn't get into the Guild if a hundred years gone by and thems was the last men on the face o' Karridar. No. Members of the Adventure's Guild have gots ta be cut from better cloth than those out there I'm afraid.

Which brings us neatly back to you dunnit? My plan is to make you a hopeful – a provisional member – for a few weeks until you can demonstrate some kind of merit, which shouldn't be too difficult with your skills. After that you can do your five with the guild, if you got an attachment to one piece of dirt over another we can accommodate – The Encroachment is everywhere so no need to worry too much about location. You'll kill some Unbound, make some money, and best of all ya won't be clapped in irons and sent up in one the 'deserter's caravans' beyond The Frontline. It's a good deal all around yea?”

While this is slightly fascinating, it's a bit outside the scope of what I actually care to learn from this man. Obviously the idea of working for him for five years is ludicrous so this is a largely irrelevant tangent. Fortunately it's probably bought me enough time – our eye contact has been unbroken since we sat down; but the physical distance between us – three or four feet – is slightly concerning. So I stand up and in a smooth motion take the two steps over to his desk, lightly hopping on top of it and crawling over until I'm practically in the man's lap. That he doesn't jerk in his seat or react particularly at all is a good sign – means the Charm is working, causing the fleshy bits inside his head to smooth over the obvious discrepancies between what is happening and what he expects to happen. Reorienting his internal priorities until 'obedience to Pink' is at the top.

At least that's what I'm frantically willing to happen as I stare into his face from inches away. In truth this is not a skill I'm terribly practiced in, and even less so on fleshy pink humans – the first of which I've ever seen I've met in this past week. Every magical teacher I've ever known has taught me that a succubus' Charm is an essentially useless bit of innate magic – not worth casting in almost any circumstance. Trying to not let that thought discourage me I begin my questioning.

“That's very interesting Gorim but I had a few other questions if you don't mind? First – what does the Adventure's Guild do with the Unbound Cores it collects?”

Maybe the change in topic was too abrupt because his face twists into a frown at my words. After a pregnant silence he answers obediently enough despite that though, so maybe I don't have to worry?

“...ah well girl. Them Cores is handled by our Guild magi – sealed up tight and shipped to Highmont. In the Imperial capital they got researchers workin' on 'em round the clock developing ways to dispose of the things more permanently.”

“So you have no way to permanently dispose of the Unbound Cores? What about the Imperials? The lords troops also collect Cores as I recall?” It's expected, but still a bit disappointing to hear it confirmed.

“Nah the lord does the same as we do, packs em up and ships em off, like I mentioned the Guild is more or less a government organ. As to whether the Cores can be destroyed …well yes and no. There are a few individuals with power and skill enough to destroy the things, Heroes and the like, but the cost is always high in the extreme to tha point it's dangerous to the ones doin' the destroying. So it been decided that it's better to use Aurora's little cantrip to seal the things and then just keep 'em stockpiled until a better method is discovered. Though in truth even that method is costly, only mages above the fifth circle can seal the things with any regularity – lower circle mages fail as often as not.”

Each answer raises a dozen new questions. It's frustrating to be so ignorant of this land and its people. But as I pull myself into the man's lap – gazing deep into his eyes – I feel there is no danger of the Charm breaking, I should be able to get answers to all my questions. And then I'll be free of this smelly man. I'll be able to return...

Pushing aside my idle thoughts, I focus and ask my next question. “Fifth circle mages? What does that mean? What does a circle of magic mean – to you?”

His frown has smoothed out and now he's just wearing a dopey and obedient expression – it really doesn't fit his rough hewn features. “Ain't no secret about the circles girl. It's a rune formation created for the purpose of measuring magical aptitude. It has ten rings and the more of em you can light up with yer power the higher circle of mage you are, each layer takes exponentially more power than the layer before. Since most mages are only third or fourth circle there's no easy solution to the problem of the Unbound Cores.”

Huh. While he went off on a tangent there at the end his 'circles of magic' sound exactly the same as the ones I was judged by – on Artas probably hundreds of years ago. I've since learned from my mistress that there is more to magic than just the raw power you can showcase with the circles so it's actually a pretty terrible method of determining a beings relative strength. But for the human's it's probably good enough, their magical prowess has done nothing to impress me since my arrival here and – barring some unlikely case where every human mage I've seen is especially weak – the humans magic is probably even less developed than my own was before meeting the Goddess.

It raises some questions. Like: how could the humans successfully invade Artas all those years ago with such pathetic magical culture? If they used to be more proficient, where has that proficiency gone? Has magical knowledge devolved since then? As a result of gradual loss because of the word of mouth methods mages use to teach? Or something else? Or is it just this corner of Suprema that's magically stunted and impressed by mere fifth circle mages? There are no easy answers. And ultimately it's irrelevant, as the Goddess has reminded me many times, it doesn't matter how things got to the point they're at – what matters is how we can use that going forward. And my mind is already spinning a dozen plans, if the humans are all this weak it opens avenues for negotiation that would be otherwise nonviable.

I feel a nudge. Gorim stares down at me, his guileless face anxious.

“Did I get it wrong miss?” His tone has become strangely respectful. So I snort and shake my head – careful to maintain eye contact.

“No, I was just lost in thought – sorry Gorim.” I give him my most sickly sweet smile before pressing on. “You mentioned a cantrip for helping deal with Cores? And someone named Aurora? Could you elaborate?”

He nods. “Of course everyone knows Aurora don't they? She's the leader of the Celestial Host, First Chair on their Council – and that rumor that she's personally responsible for the sealin' magic is just that, a rumor. All I can say for sure is the runes we use to seal the Unbound Cores was gifted to us by the Celestials – before I was even born – it's a nifty little bit of magic that only requires a third circle mage who can draw the formation to work. Like I mentioned though, the third and fourth circles fail more often than not. Those Celestial runes are probably our greatest boon in this war despite that, they allow us to stand a fightin' chance against The Encroachment.”

“Do you think you can win? Against The Encroachment?” The question slips out before I can really think about it, momentarily overcome by curiosity about what this human – who is a position of relative power and knowledge – thinks of the war. But he remains silent – nearly thirty seconds pass, the two of us gazing deeply into each others eyes – before he finally responds.

“A hard question girl. The Celestials always promise the end is in sight – that soon the Demon God will descend and there will be a final grand battle for the forces of Good to inevitably triumph in. My granddaddy believed it. And his daddy before him and on and on back up the line up till The Sundering, I imagine.” His eyes have grown slightly distant, losing their focus on me I note with a bit of panic.

He stands, unceremoniously dumping me out of his lap – it's only thanks to my inhuman reaction time I'm able to catch myself, rolling onto his desk and into a sitting position – instead of onto the floor. While I'm reorienting myself he's crossed the room to his map, his finger absently tracing a dozen or so dots connected black line on the northeast corner of the map.

“This here's The Frontline.” His finger moves up about two inches. “And this is where The Line was when my daddy retired, couple decades back that was.” His finger traces up further another four inches or so, to the very edge of the map. “And this is where The Line was established – couple hundred years ago.

Today everything north of The Line is an uninhabitable wasteland. The mages say probably even monsters aren't being born anymore in those places where the fighting was thickest – where the miasma in the air is so thick you can choke on it. And they're fairly convinced the hordes our boys and girls on The Line are facin' down today are the same hordes our daddies and granddaddies before us was facin' regenerated and rejuvenated over the years. Made stronger, tempered by the long war.

We ain't no stronger though girlie.” I can hear the desolation in his voice. My Charm forcing him to bare his heart in response to my idle words.

“So no. I don't think we'll be winnin' even if the Celestial's are right and there's a demon god out there somewhere cacklin' to themselves – I think we've passed the point where that matters. I mean, when at least one of the wyverns in every litter have to be slaughtered comin' out o' their eggs cause they was Unbound afore they was laid, when every damn monster across Suprema is bearing children that are Unbound as often as not – I think it's safe to say that we've already lost.

It's just a matter of people like you and me holdin' it all together as long as we can. That's why the Guild exists in the first place.”

The human is being dramatic but his forlorn face and weeping tone are driven from my mind before he's even finished talking. Just now I felt something. My mistress' mana, it swept through this room like a tide. Generally my ability to sense mana is nonexistent but it seems I can sense the spells of my Goddess. And if she's felt it necessary to cast a spell – to blanket this whole city in her magic by the feel of it – she'll need a servant. She'll need me.

It's a bit unfortunate that the Goddess has apparently decided to abandon the stealthy approach entirely – judging by the scope of the magic I just felt – but I can't feel to broken up about it. My call for stealth was mostly predicated on the now obviously wrong assumption that the humans might pose some degree of threat to us.

Breaking into a wide grin I cross the room to the window. Ignoring the sad looking human. I consider taking his map but decide against it after a moment of thought. There are more important things to do right now. With a quick voiceless incantation the window is blown out of its frame, scattering glass into the street below, and I jump out a half second behind, dispelling my glamour as I go. Catching myself in the air with my wings I focus my mana and rearrange my attire into something more combat orientated – before I fly off in the direction I sense my Goddess.

Behind me I hear a gasp of surpirse – my Charm dispeled by the sudden movement I suppose. But it's too late for any reaction from the humans, I've already soared three blocks away from the Adventurer's Guild. As I feel myself closing the distance to the Goddess I begin to circulate power enough to level this pathetic city, letting it dance at my fingertips – just in case.