I spent the next two or three days in the fugue state of building upon the new infrastructure I had access to. The manual caste ants were … programmed was the best word I had for it. They were programmed to perform any and all menial or repetitive tasks around the manor. Or, rather, their fungal controllers were. This included "caretakers" or tenders that would go around to the idling manuals and transfer their fungal bodies to new manuals if the infection had done too much damage to the ant's body, but otherwise would take care of the cleaning and feeding that the manuals were too passive to do themselves. The task-specific manuals would idle until some trigger would cause them to take action. This might be anything from stock material being fed into a hopper, or a simple water clock knocking to indicate a certain interval had passed. As long as no individual task had too many steps in it, nor took more than a few moments to execute, the controllers' memory capacity was sufficient to the job. The workshop, the growvats, and the farm all were thus completely freed from direct observation by either myself or my homunculi. The manuals under direct control of the homunculi were even able to perform alchemical and archival work, digging down into the subterranean chambers made by the mining ants to expand the essence archives and create specific library sections, leaving only a "tagged" catalogue on the surface with a dedicated librarian homunculus set to retrieve volumes via controlled manuals.

What I hadn't really anticipated was that the brain castes would start taking uninfected manuals for their own uses as well. Somehow they worked out a signaling system whereby the far smaller brain ants would ride manuals as mounts, doing their own supervision of construction and excavation work, or participating in surface farming work tasks beyond what the automated manuals were performing. At least, I thought it was only surface farming until I checked the subterranean tunnels and found the little buggers had actually begun collecting deadwood below ground to grow their own shelfruit with. Two distinct events of creative initiative from the brain caste. Going for the hat trick there was the fact that they seemed to even be making their own crude tools for the manuals to use in order to so whatever jobs they had in mind. Not things, mind you, that would even qualify as middle paleolithic, but definitely things like bent sticks to drag other sticks in place more easily, or the like.

A part of me wanted to show the brain caste how to make twine from grass, or sharpen wood stakes with fire -- just to see how far that rabbit hole could go. The larger part, however, was more than a little concerned about what might happen if the species I'd created ever went feral. It would never be a problem for me, due to their genetic loyalty, but I was hardly the only person in this world.

Case in point, Trisaldan himself was approaching me. He had a demeanor about him that I could only correlate to someone dealing with an unstable animal that they were trying to ensure stayed calm. "Vincent! You're… yourself? We tried talking to you for the last few days but you had this blank look on your face and you just ignored us. Are you… well?"

I snorted derisively at his concern. "Yeah, that's the first time you've seen me like that, eh? It happens. I let myself fall into a focus on tasks and get things done. I only really do it for larger jobs."

Eildan, standing behind Trisaldan, was the one who spoke next. I wasn't sure if I was imagining it but I heard a touch of shakiness to his voice. "Larger jobs? Is that why the ishuar here are so much more… disturbed than when we arrived? What did you do?"

I grimaced at that, having hoped it was merely my own increased sensitivity to things. "Yeah… I guess that was me after all. Unfortunate, considering how damned useful it is. I'm going to have to find ways to mitigate the impact of the things I do sooner rather than later, I guess. Quite… unfortunate. But then this itching in the back of my skull is quite the motivator to play nicely with the forest, eh?"

I glared mildly at Trisaldan as I said that last bit to make it clear to him that I understood his motivation in not properly warning me about what getting infested by a nature spirit would entail. Though if I were being completely honest, the benefits were certainly outweighing the costs by a solid margin so far. He smiled vaguely at me as though to indicate he wasn't worried about my ire, but didn't take the bait to respond to it.

The 'disturbance' that Eildan had mentioned was something that I didn't pay any heed to while in my fugue state, any more than any other forms of discomfort. But I did experience it nonetheless, and as a result I could gauge roughly what had been causing it. It was funny, really, how it seemed to work out. Things on the surface or at the soil level seemed to have more of an effect, but even if it were down in the ant tunnels, it still seemed to have some impact -- just more subdued. And it seemed that just about everything I made had that effect, to some degree. Beyond that, the patterns were more predictable. The more 'mundane' something was, the less of an effect it seemed to have. This even extended to my many-legged minions; naturally born and grown spiders had the least impact, worker and soldier ants after that, and vat-grown manuals with controllers the most. To the point of the controlled manuals now making up that lion's share of what I could only call "spiritual pollution".

This was, to put it mildly, a problem. A compounding issue being that I had no decent means of resolving it. I knew that ishuata could somehow contain the pollution so as to avoid issues with 'wildlings' coming to wreck my shit, but that wouldn't resolve the issue of the damned itching in the back of my head. Yes, that was still at a level that I could just grin and bear it, but that didn't make it at all pleasant to experience. And it would only get worse over time as I advanced technologically. No, merely containing the pollution wasn't going to be anything more than a band-aid for me. Especially since it would leave me wholly dependant upon the alfar to implement it, as from what I understood there was no way to become an ishuata short of being born to one, which… yeah. Not an option.

So that left me with trying to remediate the issue on my own. The only hint I had that this might in fact be possible was the fact that the closer I got to the greatoak, the less severe the effect of the pollution on me, corroborating my previous guess about the tree emanating nature mana somehow. It would appear that if I could somehow copy that effect, I could possibly mask the signal of my industrial buildup and avoid further issues.

Trisaldan waved his hand in front of my face. "Sir Vincent? You dazed off again. Are you sure you're alright?"

I let a flash of peevish annoyance into my countenance. Only a flash, though. "Damnit. Sorry, just thinking about … things." I hitch in mid-speech, but pick up again before continuing on. "Actually -- I have questions for you. Walk with me for a moment, would you? I've questions for you lot."

The trio of alfar appeared hesitant but followed me regardless. "Of course, Sir Vincent. What would you like to discuss?"

I continued on, setting a somewhat leisurely pace through the more scenic sampling garden's path and along the faux stream. "You've mentioned the concept of 'wildlings' a few times now, and while this seems to refer to the spiders somewhat, not everything I've learned about your world is adding up with what you describe. For example, the spiders I've found out there seem to prefer to live near these greater trees, which suppress or inhibit disturbances to the ishuar, but they are drawn to those imbalances? I'd appreciate clarification."

The not-quite-aging alfar nods to show he's heard me, as he contemplated how to answer my question. After a relatively brief moment, his answer is about as good as I could really expect -- more questions arising than he resolves, if not for lack of trying. "The great spiders are the least of the wildlings. It is true that wildlings are drawn to disturbances, but that tends to balance out to the severity of the disturbance. Different wildlings also often have different reactions to imbalances or disturbances. No one has ever, to my knowledge, actually developed a solid explanation as to why or how this all fits together. As Wardens, our typical training is to maintain as low a profile as we can, while acting as a first line of defense and understanding to the things that occur." He let out a half-sigh before continuing. "The thing you must understand is that unlike the true Alfarhame Wood, the Treatied Wood is… feral, in a sense. Rishuata's touch is the strongest here of any of the gods', but even she is not absolute, in this place. The wildlings are beings that … well. In a sense, you could say that they are a response to that absence. Or perhaps that they create it. Certainly wildlings are well-described, usually, as godless. Though from time to time we find there are beasts that … are godlike in some ways… amongst them. This never ends in anything but sorrow and fire."

I took my time trying to parse that, even as I used my new connection to the controlled manuals to transcribe as best I could word for word what Trisaldan was saying. I'd have one of the homunculi parse it later for proper reference sorting. "I see. Maybe. If the spiders are the least, what are the biggest?"

The alfar sargeant set his eyes to mine squarely. "Does your homeworld know of the great winged serpents? Beings of godly but worldly might, that hunger and horde and rain fire?"

Oh. Well of course the top of the monster pile is dragons. What was I even thinking? I mentally facepalmed. "Ahh… as myths. Yes. We call them 'dragons', I think. The myths sometimes call them great mindless monsters, and sometimes call them the wisest of all beings. They sleep for ages and ages, and are rare and old. Sometimes they are said to have breeds distinguished by the color or type of their scales, with the metallic scaled as benevolent if arrogant, and the chromatic -- red or blue or green or black or white, and such -- scaled as vile and tyrannical. Sometimes they are said to be tied to the land, as living embodiments of its health or vigor. We on a similar page here?"

Trisaldan nodded in response. "None have risen in the living memory of even the oldest of the ishuata, so I could not say as to the specifics, but… yes. Much of what you say seems to speak of similar beings. Curious that your children's stories should so suit our world but bear no truth at all in yours." He eyed me with something similar to both curiosity and suspicion.

I didn't have the heart to even begin to dive into Heinlein's World-As-Myth hypothesis, let alone anything similar to it. I divert that train of thought as best I can. "Something brought me to this place. If our worlds were utterly separated, I wouldn't be here now. It's not impossible, then, that stories of this place made it back home somehow. Perhaps your gods even sent us dreams to prepare Voidborn for arrival here."

I pulled myself up at my own words. It was… actually a fitting conjecture. Rather excessively fitting, in fact. I'd have to find out about the Voidborn who have come before me. The alfar claimed that at least some of them haven't been total murderhobos. Perhaps they may have left messages or legends or something behind? Something to dig into, at least. Having remote telepathically controlled minions was just so damned convenient when it came to taking discreet notes about this sort of thing.

Actually… were my communications with the manuals discreet? I've never directly sensed the spiritual activities of the alfar 'minders' I've been saddled with, but that only means that I haven't done so. I had to assume they are better at it than I am. By far. Yet another thing for me to try to work on. Hrm. I had my manual make a note to have the homunculi try to ‘tap into’ one another’s communications with their controlled manuals.

I would need to improve on my messaging/queuing systems, too. Chalkboards maybe?

I mentally shook myself out of being caught up in my thoughts -- again -- and continued with the alfar trio. “Nonetheless… Eildan -- if you wouldn’t mind, I would appreciate it if you would head into my library and recant your experiences with the wildlings during this ‘blood moon’ event to one of my homunculi there. I would very much appreciate it.”

The man naturally seems somewhat uncomfortable with the idea, but nodded in affirmation after a glance from Trisaldan. Not wanting to be that kind of off-putting, I elaborated on what my goal was. “In fact, I would appreciate it if each of you would spend some time each day with one of my homunculi in my library, and just recant in your own words experiences that you find both completely normal and very unusual from your personal experiences. Nothing that you’d consider ‘important’ information need be shared. I don’t need, for example, descriptions of the layouts of your Warden fortresses or secret tunnels to the bedrooms of your ishuata or anything. Just whatever you’re willing to discuss. Amusing anecdotes, stories you’re fond of telling -- whatever. Consider it a way of paying me back for all the food and material I’ve been allocating on you guys.”

Orelme -- the most silent of the trio -- finally has more confusion than even his apparent stoicism can handle. “Stories? You … you want to be paid in stories? That’s just … what are you actually getting after, Sir Vincent?”

I smile and shake my head gently. “The best possible trades occur when both sides are convinced that they’ve ripped the other off; when all parties to a trade have given away something they do not value at all and in exchange receive something they value highly.” I can see Orelme is no less confused, but there’s perhaps a glimmer of comprehension in Trisaldan’s eyes. But I continue on regardless. “The simple fact is -- especially as time progresses -- you alfar have little I might want when it comes to material things. By comparison I have surrounded myself with the fruits of labor -- and have the means to expand out what I have acquired even further. And this gap will only grow with time. But that’s not the same as saying you have nothing I might want. I want, for example, to learn about this world and its history. And you folks are a living connection to it through which I can tap into that vast wealth of knowledge. So… to you, your personal experiences and ordinary upbringing; these are things no one would ever consider paying for. To me, they represent a treasure trove that I would rather enjoy acquiring. So; a trade. Food and lodging for your tales of living and history. We can discuss further from there. Fair?”

The three wander out of immediate earshot of me and in a brief discussion seem to come to a conclusion that my request is at least harmless enough to indulge. I didn’t bother actually listening into it, even though I likely could have had one of my ‘minions’ close enough to them without their realizing to do so. I had no way of knowing just how sharp their nature-senses were, and on top of that it was just downright impolite.

~~------------~~

As much as the simple automation of my manor was “of the good”, the fact remained that I was still in a relatively vulnerable position with regards to everything that was out there in the world. While the manor and the mining colony both now had a hundred or two hunting spiders as defensive retinues to go along with the defensive walls and even more six-inch-long soldier ants to swarm any potential attackers, the fact remained that I was short on defensive capacity.

I’d made the classic mistake when setting it all up -- namely; of expecting my last conflict to be representative of what future conflicts would be like. Now that I had some sense of the potential scale of things that might meaningfully threaten me in the future, I couldn’t afford to repeat that same mistake. I needed better defenses. And even with as much as I’d accomplished with communicating with my controllers and their manual hosts, one of the major threats I had to take into account was betrayal by the alfar. Which was admittedly something of a catch-22: I couldn’t prepare too well against them, for fear that appearing to target them would induce their hostility. I didn’t really know a damned thing about how large a society they were, or how militant they were, nor even what their actual military capabilities were. All that I knew was that with nearly forty of my hunting spiders, I was able to fend off a dozen of their wardens while losing over half of my spiders to the attempt… and that they had at least enough wardens to spare a few hundred of them to surround my mining colony.

Well, I knew that they also had “Marches” and at least three of them. Unless they did something with March numbering that was similar to how Earth’s navies numbered their fleets. But that really wasn't helpful. I did, now, know that to date I had basically only prepared for some of the least possible threats against me as well. The simple truth was that nothing I'd built to date was going to help me in the slightest if an honest to god dragon decided to be pissed off at me, and that very likely that was going to remain the case for some time. Even with all the weirdness and shenanigans I'd pulled off, I was no more secure than a small village would be. That needed to change.

I had a number of possible routes I could take to accomplishing that goal. One thing I couldn't really bring myself to do, however, was completely dismiss or retire my hunting spiders. From their first creation they'd been entirely faithful, and I wasn't enough of a bastard to just ignore that. At the same time, however, even with all the advancement I'd made, there were just too many of the critters for me to be able to use the in vivo methods of modifying an organism I'd acquired from my Biopunk knowledge to date. That wouldn't stop me from making an "elite" breed, however. This would necessitate a sort of tiered response in how I organized them, but that wasn't really all that much of an obstacle.

It was with this thought that I found myself perusing the trait bank my minions had been fleshing out for me, trying to find inspiration for what more I could accomplish. Further domesticating the spiders was right out, as was making them vegetarian -- I needed their predatory instincts as part of their basic function. But with what I'd learned from the ants, there was now room to select for a significant increase in total size. I'd be able to increase them from being the stature of rather large cats to, say, the size of a medium dog breed. I already had the traits to support that, seeing as the primary obstacle to that scale of growth was how well the critters could breathe, an obstacle I had previously worked around.

In addition, normally spiders don't have mandibles to go along with their chelicerae, but with any luck I should be able to push my trait modification abilities enough to introduce the manuals' prehensile mandibles to my new guardian breed. And if I was going to do that, I might as well also push the communication trait of my brain ants into the mix as well. After all, I'd be wanting small groups of guardians to be escorted by larger numbers of hunters in most cases, and I'd need them to at least be able to communicate "danger", "friends", or "interesting" to my homunculi. What I needed more than anything else, however, was a smarter breed of defender. Adding the manual caste's tool usage trait and the brain caste's communication trait would help significantly with this. Being able to communicate short, simple, sentences would be even better -- and that was something I could certainly accomplish. I would be pushing hard against the boundaries of what I was comfortable creating, however, in terms of total intellectual prowess. My target was something about as smart as a dumb gorilla. That could be taught rudimentary sign language and be instructed in the use of implements but not have the wherewithal to self-organize. I’d of course need to develop some sort of sign language for them, but that was something that could pay further dividends with the brain caste starting to use the manual caste to similar purposes. Something to explore further might be improving the symbiosis there.

Last thing I needed was to unwittingly star in Planet of the Spider-Apes.

The process of using controlled manuals to organize all of these things together was a bit odd. A bit like patting your head while rubbing your stomach at the same time. It took a great deal of concentration… until it just didn't, like when it just clicks in your head how to ride a bicycle. This made the total process of everything I was doing much easier to fully pull off, from the collection of a viable egg-sac from the hunters' nest to the introduction of the various traits in each of the eggs contained within. This was going to be the most expansive single modification I had made to date, and ironically it still wouldn't qualify as something that expanded my tech base. I was just using what I could already do, not delving into unknown depths.

Stranger still was splitting my focus between not merely the biomodification work, but also the mechanical designing. I would not be equipping my new guardians in a manner similar to what the hunters had -- they would be capable of using more-complex equipment and due to that complexity I could fit them with superior gear. No mere punching daggers, but retractable curved daggers and collapsible buckler shields. Dual burn pistols, since they were enough larger than the hunters that the crystals could recharge without interfering with one another. More complex still would be a clockwork repeating dart rifle. Mounting it all on their barding and training them in the usage of these tools would be a challenge -- and there were of course limitations such as the inability to reload ammunition in the field, which could be offset by the number of darts loaded during deployment -- but one that would be worth the effort.

As I leaned more heavily into orchestrating the controlled manuals into doing this work, it felt more and more akin to what I would imagine orchestrating a symphony might be like. Some corner of my head started feeling the rhythm or harmony of what I was doing, timing things better and better. I did notice my mana dipping slightly as I worked, but careful pacing of my activities was able to match to the regeneration rate and avoid falling into ‘oh god my eyes’ territories of headache.

It was interesting to see my manuals fitting the pieces all together onto the first of the new guardians to be fully matured under the sanguinism invocation of three of my manuals sacrificing themselves completely -- they just didn’t have the health capacity to do more. There were more manuals where those came from -- no great loss. The final product of all the work I’d put together was something that I could almost palpably feel the danger coming off of. Watching it go from stumbling under its first steps as it adapted to its own body, to carefully mimicking the controlled manuals as they attempted to teach it the symbols and phrasing I’d settled upon, to then turning around and teaching the next of its own kind the very phrasing I’d first trained it with -- all in the matter of a few short hours … in a way, it was both exhilarating and terrifying. I knew I would be creating something far, far closer to a truly sapient existence with the guardians. I also knew that I would never be completely comfortable with the ramifications of what I had done unless I had real control over it all. The partial domestication trait and my own trace essence in them ensured their loyalty to me, but just how far could I really press that?

I would need to carefully manage the guardians. I couldn’t treat them as simple slaves -- they would need to be given comforts and education fitting their intended role in my growing culture. Yeah. Nothing could go wrong with this plan. Nothing at all.