The sun rose on the Kingdom of Dennis. It tended to do that a lot. An almost daily basis, actually, the sort of regularity one could set a clock by. But today's sunrise was special, because today was the day when Princess Ruth Greer and her sisters (also Princesses) would be allowed to go to the Church of Law for a sermon.

This was not the first time they had been, and it would not be the last time they would go, but to five-year-old Ruth, this was possibly the best day of her life. She was going to see her Uncle Ivan! He always told the best stories (most of the time, unless it was one of the boring passages). More importantly though, she would get some of the cookies they gave out to all the good boys and girls who didn't shout during the service (or in most cases, those who shouted the least).

"Hurry up!" Ruth shouted, running down the street, a tiny tiara glinting in the summer sun. The young princess turned on one finely-shod heel, grinding it against the cobbles and thus ensuring that the royal cobbler would continue to be gainfully employed. She stared back at her sister Louisa with all the life-threatening urgency a five-year-old could manage.

"Hurry up, slowpoke!"

Louisa, eight years her senior, groaned in the older-sister fashion: much too cool to deal with such childish nonsense as being excited and having fun. "The Church is right there," she scoffed, gesturing at the bell tower rising high above the backdrop of houses. It was visible from most of the city, so this wasn't much of a point in general, but in this case, it happened to only be a street over.

The Dennis Grand Cathedral was the largest Church of Law in all of the country, and sixth largest in the Empire of the Eternal Star. It scraped towards the sky, rising high above the Tower District of Craig. The walls were decorated with frescoes and stained-glass windows, depicting scenes of mythology, the various Gods of humanity, and in one case, a small dog. The dog had little religious significance, but it had been put in by accident when a window had been broken about a decade ago, and it was cute enough that nobody had the heart to remove it.

Besides the fact that the Cathedral was absolutely infested with fine art, it also menaced with protective Scripts, and all manner of helpful Law. Looking upon the art of the building (so long as you were within a 30 foot radius) was enough to refresh you, and slightly accelerate the healing of wounds. When the bells tolled on the hour, all within earshot were filled with a surge of strength and energy.

It was no wonder, then, that the renovations which were being done on the Iron Path were going so swimmingly in this district of the city.

The Church was not the only edifice that the Tower District benefited from. The capital's Innermost district was well-protected from danger, sealed as it was behind the Golden Gate of Dennis. A great gate, twenty feet high and made of solid gold, it was an enchanted defensive artifact that had been created by the Emperor Wylos himself, as a gift for the then-king. No foes could pass beyond it, and it opened to no enemies, turning aside cannon fire and battering ram alike.

Because of this, Ruth and her sisters could run through the streets without fear, as could any of King Greer's many loyal subjects. Running was not a favored activity of all princesses, however, and Louisa groaned as Ruth hurried ahead. She was in the years of endless teen angst, and her current wardrobe was many varied shades of black. She had on dark eyeliner and lipstick, but eschewed the pale concealer that would typically make up the classic Gloom style that was popular among kids her age. Regretfully, she had been born in the middle of summer, and so her skin was far too dark to properly reach the corpse-like pallor that one really needed to pull the look off. She'd tried it once, but had caked on so much that it looked unnatural, and not in a cool, anti-authoritarian way. She settled for a spiked necklace, and hoped that it got across her inner turmoil well enough.

"Be nice to her," a voice admonished her. Louisa shot a withering glare at her older sister, the Second Princess of Dennis. In contrast to her younger sister, who was DEFINITELY not just going through a phase, Justine was the proper image of a princess. Poised. Graceful. Beautiful. Elegant. Composed. And all of that while still in her late teens. She disarmed her sister's sass with one expert flash of the eye. Louisa grumbled, but looked away

"Ruth is just excited. You know how much she loves to see Uncle Ivan."

Louisa gave a vague noise of polite disgust in the back of her throat and turned back to continue towards the church. "His sermons are so BORING, though."

"Are not!" Ruth shouted, having run back to see why her sisters were moving so slowly, despite their longer legs. "Uncle Ivan is the coolest! You know why? Because he tells fun stories, and he has a cool stubbly beard, and he's super smart!"

"He is, isn't he?" Justine asked, laughing.

"You'll see!" Ruth said, glaring at her older sisters. "Church is the funnest!"

******

A man in his late thirties stood in front of the Judge's Lectern of the Cathedral, delivering a sermon to a small gathered crowd. He was the sort of man who defied his own age: his hair was a brilliant raven black, but spotted with flecks of white, creating a stark contrast rather than the overall dulling that tended to happen to most of those who went gray. He was wearing the collared robes of a Magistrate, but eschewed the formal white wig that tended to go with it. He walked with the casual grace and Noble bearing that instantly marked his Royal heritage, but the older brother of King Greer didn't choose to flaunt his status. It leaked out of him with quiet dignity, like a cool ice cream attendant doing their best to fit a free third scoop into your two-scoop to-go container.

Ruth and her sisters were one of only a few churchgoers attending the service. This had little to do with anything along the lines of popularity. Ivan Greer was one of the more popular Magistrates in attendance at the Grand Cathedral. The low attendance was more a symptom of the unusual time, as few tended to attend the 2:00 PM service, awkwardly timed as it was.

At that sort of time, most residents of the city were well into their work. But the Grand Cathedral was an attractive target for religious pilgrims, and like most invasive species, they were mal-adapted for the local clime, and tended to just kind of show up to service whenever they arrived.

Magistrate Greer was more than happy to give these off-schedule services, and was already in the midst of beginning his sermon. He carried with him a leatherbound book, as large as a breadbox. The massive tome, a Book of Mandates, hovered before him, pages flipping automatically to his desired section, commanded by his Intent, and the sanctity of the Holy Law contained within the texts. A thick chain dangled from the spine of the book, the other end securely attached to his waist.

While the hovering of such a massive tome served as a handy display of the powers he shared with other Law practitioners, Magistrate Greer was more than just a simple Juror. His heightened position in the church spoke both to his stronger and more refined abilities, as to his increased level of responsibility. He was marked as an authority in the Church of Law, a position that was not to be taken lightly. Mostly, though, he just hovered the book because it was heavy as hell and strained his back if he held it too long. Plus he liked to walk while he sermonized, so a book stand was no good.

He read from the texts, his voice booming out over the crowd.

"In the beginning, there was nothing. And then the Word Spoke itself into existence, and the Word was Law.

The Word was all things, and the Law was in all things, such that all was within Law, and all was as one. The Law knew that all things as one was boring as fuck, and so Spoke the world into being:

I. Let there be a World (Hereafter referred to as MAGNUM), and let it be made distinct and separate from the aether of Void that surrounds it."

"Louisa," Ruth hissed, a child's whisper that was, in typical fashion, perhaps louder than if she had spoken normally. "This is BORING."

Louisa gave her younger sister the most sardonic expression she could manage, rolling her eyes 360 degrees and looking away. "Nooo~oooo, reaaally?" she asked, in an actual, drawling whisper. Ruth glared at her.

"Shut up!" she shouted. "Mosta the stories are really good! We just got unlucky," she explained. A few pilgrims looked over at the commotion, but most of the locals were already familiar with such outbursts, and paid it no mind.

Up at the front of the Cathedral, the speaker continued, as if he had not heard his nieces bickering.

"The Law Spoke the first True Name, Magnum, and with it named the world. And the world was made whole and made distinct in the Naming, and the Law saw within it greatness. The Law was pleased, and so divided the World further, forming from its substance the Prime Names, the core elements that make up all things physical. The Law Spoke, and into existence sprang Earth, and Wind, such that the land and sky became distinct from each other."

"Unto the land was Spoken the name of Water, and the name of Fire, bringing warmth, and the life-giving embrace of the sea to Magnum. The world was formed, but it was a fragile and empty thing. The Law then Named Metal, filling the depths of the world and granting it strength and solidity to last through the ages. The Law then Spoke Wood, and lush greenery filled the empty plains, and soon life teemed across the world."

"The time then came for The Law to create the animals which would come to live on the world. See Appendix I-A: 'Creatures created by The Law at the birth of the world'."

"Ugh," Louisa groaned quietly. "Is he going to read all of the animals this time? I hate it when they do that."

It seemed she had not groaned quietly enough, as her Uncle looked up at her, eyes sparkling mischievously, before turning casually and mentally flipping the pages of his Book, hovering his hand over it and willing it to the section he desired.

"Please turn to Appendix I-A," he directed the sermon-goers.

He looked over to Louisa and winked once, before he began reading.

"And so the Law Named then all manner of animals, as to be listed below: Aardvark. Aardwolf. Abalone..."

Louisa melted into a teenage wasteland as her Uncle set into reciting a list of animals, in alphabetical order, organized by True Name, as created by The Law.

******

In the end, Ruth got her cookie, despite her previous outburst. It was vanilla flavored, and had bits of crunchy candy in it that were all colors of the rainbow, and shaped like stars. It was the best cookie she'd ever had. They had retired to one of the kitchens run by the Church. Providing meals was one of the public services provided by the Church. Breakfast, Brunch, Lunch, and Dinner were available to day laborers, those of low means, pilgrims, and those who simply wanted a free lunch alike. Ivan was hard at work, serving a savory meat chili to the laborers who had been working on the recent renovations to the Iron Path. The railway system was the lifeblood of the Empire, an all-important tool for logistics and commerce, as well as travel. It was also the subject of a heavy debate currently engaged between Ivan and his second-eldest niece.

Ruth listened intently as she ate her cookie. Of course, to a five-year-old, the subject matter was a bit above her. If you were to ask her, the most important part of the conversation was that trains were cool, and she liked the loud whistle they did sometimes (even if it hurt your ears when you weren't ready for it).

"So, you oppose the rail tariff?" Justine asked, grabbing a roll with a pair of tongs and dropping it on the plate of one of the laborers. She had volunteered to help in the kitchens. It wasn't strictly necessary, and some of the stuffier courtiers might think that it was 'beneath her', but she felt it was good exercise for keeping in touch with her subjects. Plus, she got to meet tons of well-mannered himbos this way.

"No, that's not exactly what I mean," Ivan replied, ladling out a thick beef chili onto the next worker's plate. "I don't oppose the tariff itself, I just think it's misdirected."

Magistrate Greer scooped into the bus pan of roasted sprouts and dumped a large serving-spoonful onto a plate, depositing the vegetables next to the chili. The tall, burly man being served looked down at the sprouts with the shock and dismay of a child a third his size and a fifth of his weight. Ivan shot him the stink-eye, warning him ocularly to eat them all, if he wants to grow up to be big(ger) and strong(er). With that settled, he turned back to Justine.

"Why should the tariff for goods coming into Dennis be going to the Empire? Our Customs are local, our porters are local, all of the rail workers are local. It makes no sense to collect the money here, ship it off to the Empire, then hopefully get most of it sent right back in funding."

"That sounds an awful lot like Prince Nasty, or whatever his name happened to be," Justine commented.

"You mean Prince Nasilty?" Ivan asked, frowning. "I wouldn't compare myself to him. I'm not claiming that the Empire has no right to tax goods. I'm just saying that the way they're going about it isn't the most efficient, if you ask me. His sort of talk sounds about two steps removed from open rebellion. Makes me glad his Princedom is a few countries over."

Justine shrugged, giving another roll to a tall Orc laborer. "I just think that getting mad over Skub of all things is just silly."

"Hey," one of the laborers said, frowning suddenly and taking a step forward. "Don't you go badmouthing Skub." The laborer's friend paled suddenly, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder. He drew the maligned man back, whispering to him in a calming voice.

"H-Hey Gary, let's move along. That's the princess, buddy, you can't talk—"

"But she said—"

"It's fine. Let's go find somewhere to sit, yeah?"

The pair moved off, and Ivan shook his head. "It's popular, no doubt. But besides that, it's a big mover, economically. Chestwesterton is one of the biggest Skub producers in the Empire, and the only way to ship it to most anywhere else is passing through Westchesterton, by rail."

Ruth couldn't really understand everything they were talking about, but seized on the one thing she did know.

"Daddy says that both'a the Princes that are fighting are brothers. Brothers shouldn't fight, even if they're Princes. You and Daddy didn't fight, even when you were both Princes.

Ivan chuckled. "If only all brothers could learn to get along. Well said, Ruth."

His merriment was cut short, as a shadow fell over the kitchen. A massive laborer, hunched over and with a dull look in his eye. His expression was fixed with a confused rage, although the confusion was probably a natural state, given that he looked like he had about two brain cells that he occasionally liked to rub together.

"I heard somebody was badmouthing Skub around here," the laborer growled.

********

Princess Ruth Greer, Fifth Princess of Dennis, was dressed in her royal pajamas, and getting ready for bed. Her mother had taught her the importance of brushing her hair one hundred times before bed, which was honestly probably bullshit, but Ruth took it to heart, running her ivory comb through her hair as she sat in her bed.

Her father sat in the chair next to her bed, a book on his lap, as he listened to her telling him about her day.

"And then Uncle Ivan said some words out of his book, and the man flew up into the air. Only, Uncle Ivan told me after that it wasn't the man that flew up, but the man's clothes."

"He... did, did he?" Her father asked, hesitantly. He hadn't heard that part when his older daughter had reported the events of the day to him.

"Uh-huh!" Ruth affirmed, grinning widely. "And I said, um, how come his clothes could lift him up, and Uncle Ivan said it was because he was full of hot air."

She set the comb on her nearby end-table, then looked at it critically and adjusted it, like a real grown-up would do. She looked at her father and leaned in close, to confide her suspicions to him.

"I think it was because of the beans," she whispered. "That's why he was fulla hot air."

"You're probably right," King Greer answered, voice equally low. "We'll have to make sure to be careful the next time you have beans, so you don't go flying off."

The princess giggled, nestling down into her down comforters. She pulled the covers over her head, then poked her head out, so that only her eyes and nose were visible. She looked expectantly towards her father.

"Story!" she shouted happily. The King laughed, cracking open the book on his lap.

"Very well. A bedtime story, as promised. This one is a story of the Giving of Gifts. The creation of all of Humanity."

Ruth nodded emphatically, her little eyes beaming with awe as her father cleared his throat, and began to read.

*****

And so it came to pass that the Law grew unsatisfied with the fine cavalcade of animals that had been created, and unveiled to the Gods a new creation. Law wove together life, and Spoke a name unto it: HUMAN. The Gods all cried in joy to see the creation, which Law promised to be the finest of all living creatures, one capable of true understanding.

The Gods waited eagerly to hear the role that would be set for this new creature, and were shocked when Law informed them of their intended purpose. For this creature was one who would know how to Speak the True Names that Law had set out, and in so doing, command the world around it. Humanity would be a creature made to grow, to expand, to rule the World that Law had so designed.

But Law was not one to cause grief or worry in those loyal children, the Gods. Law set the Human down and so Speaking, divided it evenly into seven of itself, giving one Human to each of the Gods to have as their own.

The Law set them to the task, such that each would take part in the creation of Humanity. From the great Prime Names of the world, would the Gods be allowed to take, to grant gifts to their new creation, the better that their own children might live and strive.

The order was thus determined, and The Law set forth the order to be followed. First to choose would be the Nurturing and Kind Ninhursag. Second, the Diligent and Intelligent Principa. Third would be the Steadfast god, Breki, and following him, his hot-blooded brother Krieg. Next, the Brave and Strong-hearted Brigid, and the Clever, Irreverent Larrikin. Finally, last to choose would be Wise Setenaya, the youngest of all Gods.

The Law so stating, allowed the Gods their turn to create. Immediately, Krieg stepped forward.

"My Humans," he insisted, "Shall have the Gift of Metal. They shall be the mightiest of all Humanity, such that they shall be lords of all things." Immediately, he began to shape his Human, to mold it onto itself, making it stronger, bulkier, and perhaps more muscular than was strictly tasteful.

The Law warned him not to choose out of turn, and reiterated that it was NInhursag's time to choose.

"Very well," Krieg deferred reluctantly, shaking a fist at Ninhursag, who couldn't give a shit about his idle threats. "But choose not the Gift of Metal, as I have already called dibs."

Ninhursag shook her head, because she had already made up her mind on the gift she planned to give. For she knew that the World was full of dangers, and rife with terrible, beautiful beasts, and plants that exploded, and all sorts of crazy bullshit like that. She crafted her Human, reducing its size, giving it larger eyes and wider ears, to better be aware of the dangers around it. Taking up a handful of Earth, she raised it to her lips and Spoke, imbuing it into her creation.

"I give my Humans the Gift of Earth. The Gift of Sanctuary." She cast the Earth onto her creation, and soon it began to come to life, writhing as it awoke, the First Human to live, the First Goblin.

"Let the gentle embrace of Earth keep you from harm. Let no injury stay long upon your body, and let not even death keep you from me." So saying, she breathed her divine breath into her creation, sealing the Gift, and so it was that Goblins were given the Gift of Sanctuary. The Gift of Invincibility. Her first child rose to her, a woman in her likeness, except green and tiny with big ears. Ninhursag leaned down to her Human, her chosen champion, and named her Gob.

Politely clapping, the next to choose was the diligent Principa. She knew that Ninhursag had chosen wisely, and so sought to do much the same. Krieg opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again when he realized that the others were looking at him, and were cautioning him preemptively to wait his own damn turn.

Principa reached her hand into the sea, and drew up Water. She gazed within its depths and saw many a sea critter swimming amongst the water she held in her hand. Inspired, she began to form her Human, giving to it long limbs and elegant curves, with fins and gills to better traverse the seas. With the sea in her hand, she Spoke the Name of Water, and wove the Water itself into a fine cloth the color of the sky, weaving together waves, sea, and animals alike, to create a fine Skin which she wrapped tightly around her Human.

"I give you the Gift of Water. The Gift of Serenity," she whispered, and her Human began to dance smoothly, as if they had known nothing else in their entire life, which was technically true. They shifted effortlessly, from one sea creature to another, their Skin imbuing them with the knowledge of the creatures that had been caught within it.

"If my Sister sees fit to give a wholeness of body, then I shall give you wholeness of mind," She decreed. "Let the Gift of Serenity ensure that nothing shall be beyond your understanding and recall. If your task is to comprehend the World, let your Gift give you the power to excel in this regard."

She lifted her Human and breathed her divine breath into it, sealing her Gift. Primly, properly, her child bowed to her in respect. Tickled by the display, Principa named her Human, and Iincho was born, the First of the Merrow.

"Finally!" Krieg sighed, "It is my time to pick! I choose Metal. Let my Humans—"

But The Law was quick to interrupt, and inform him that his turn was yet to come. It was the appointed time for Breki to create his humans.

Breki, deep in thought, leaned forward and plunged his hand deep into the earth.

"For my Humans," he said sagely, "I choose the Gift of Metal."

"You piece of shit!" Krieg cried out. "You absolute jackass!"

Breki worked the Metal into the bones and skin of his Human, making it taller, sturdier, stronger. He molded the metal around its Heart as well, to give it the steadfast nature he valued. The metals he had worked in took on a dull green shine, and he worked the color into the skin, also adding fangs and sharp clawed nails, just because it was really cool looking.

"I give my Human the Gift of Metal," he repeated, "The Gift of Resolve. You may not have the healing that the Goblins enjoy, but you shall not break under working strain, nor under assault, nor under the pressures that life may pile upon you. Let your bones contain the might of steel, and your hearts the Nobility of Gold, and let nothing cause you grief. Not even loudmouth little brothers."

"FUCK YOU!" Krieg shouted."You can't do that! I called dibs!"

Breki lifted his Human and breathed divine breath into it, sealing the Gift. Kresnik, the First Orc, flexed casually to himself as Breki set him back down to the ground.

Krieg continued to shout, enraged by his brother's complete disregard for his claim. The Law chastised him, and informed him that there were no "dibs" that could be claimed by speaking out of turn. However, his turn had come at last.

Krieg, surly, stared down at his creation, and realized that he had preemptively shaped the Human, expecting to receive the Gift of Metal which was rightfully his. However, without the strength of Metal to support the bones of his Human, the enormous weight of the musculature was too much for a normal frame to support.

Begrudgingly, he tweaked and shifted his child, sacrificing height rather than undo the changes he had already made. With fury and passion, he slammed his fist into the earth, and drew out a handful of Fire. Clutching it tightly, he jammed the Gift into his creation's chest, and Spoke its True Name.

"I give my Human the Gift of Fire," he declared. "The Gift of Passion. Let fire course through their veins, and the unstoppable drive of strength and passion propel you. Let no height be out of your reach, as your inner flame guides you to greater and greater things. Let my Gift grant my sons the strength to exceed all others, to rule, to be the greatest among greats."

The Law cautioned Krieg that his words were binding, and he should speak carefully, lest he deny his daughters the gifts he granted. Krieg was defiant.

"I mean all the words that I say," he crowed. "And so I shall only have sons. The weakness of femininity shall not stain their mighty forms."

This drew some criticism from the other Gods, but Krieg was not to be dissuaded.

He bent down to his creation and blew across their brow, his divine breath sealing the Gift into place. And his creation burned into life, Spardacus, the First of the Dwarves.

Next to choose was Brigid, the bravest of the young Gods. She looked at the dangers that waited on the World they had created, and defiantly reached down, seizing the dark woods, and the beasts that dwelled within them. She worked the Wood into her creation, speaking its True Name.

"Let my creation live among the fangs and claws without fear. Let the Woods provide, and the Name of the beasts dwell within my daughters. Let the wild nature fill their spirit, and Speak to their bones."

Brigid looked down at her creation. She had attempted to create like her sister Principa, but her hands were not the deft, gentle hands of a crafter, but the strong hands of a huntress and warrior. Her creation no longer resembled a human, and had become a strange mishmash of limbs and animal parts. She reached down and Spoke to her creation.

"I give you the Gift of Change. Let your Form be informed by the Names within you. I charge you, creation: Make Yourself."

At her words, her creation began to shift, bringing itself to a Human form, with animal features which shifted and changed as she moved. Brigid looked upon her child's new form, and was satisfied.

"I give you the Gift of Wood. The Gift of Change. May you change to suit your needs, and fear not the dark of the woods, or the fang of beasts. Go where you please, be fruitful, and become what you wish."

So Speaking, she raised her creation and blew her divine breath unto it, sealing the Gift within. Her child stretched and moved, taking the form of one creature, then another, and she was Anya, the First of the Walpurgis.

The next to choose was Larrikin, the clever trickster. The other Gods were confused as they looked about, and saw that only one gift remained, the Void from which all things sprang, and to which all things must return. But two Gods had yet to choose their gifts.

Larrikin laughed, a glint in his eye, as he revealed the Wind, which he had hidden amongst the leaves of the trees, and the tousle of hair, and the billowing of the grasses. Larrikin had quietly wrangled the wind and hidden it before the choosing of Gifts had even begun. Krieg was furious when he saw how they had been deceived.

"This is a farce!" he roared, "Why does he get to choose his Gift early?"

Larrikin grinned a smile at the angry God, and was quick to point out the folly of his words. "I've done nothing of the sort! I waited until this moment to choose my Gift. It was still there, ready to be seized by any God who came before. All you had to do was look a little harder."

"Treachery!" Krieg declared, and beseeched to Law to call a re-do, as this treachery undermined the entire choosing of Gifts.

The Law was unconvinced, and told him that Larrikin had spoken truthfully. Though the Name of the Wind had been hidden, there was no claim that would have stopped the other Gods from picking it, if they so chose.

In response, Krieg roared and began to tantrum about the East of the World, kicking at mountains and shearing their tops off entirely, creating the mesas that his Dwarves would come to rule. His tears of anger overflowed, and a torrent of rain flowed between the valleys of the mesas, such that during the rainy season, the flattened peaks become islands, separated by floodwaters.

However, Krieg's anger could not stop Larrikin from claiming his gift, and he continued, shaping his Human in the image of the clever birds, messengers of Law as they were. He fashioned his child after the colorful Speaker Birds that lived in the jungle mountains of the Northeast. He painted his Human with the secret colors of the Wind, and Spoke its name.

"My Gift is the Gift of Wind. The Gift of Freedom. Let you be held down by nothing, and let the sky embrace you. You shall not fight for supremacy as the others may be guided, but neither shall any place be barred to you. I cannot give you the freedom of Destiny, as all things are bound by the Law, but with my Gift, may the yokes of Law rest easy on your shoulders."

So saying, his creation sprang to life, and floated gently, the Force of Attraction touching it barely, and the friendly Wind coursing about it. Larrikin blew his divine breath across his creation's wings, sealing in the Gift, as Bazza, the First of the Quarrion, took to the air.

And so it came to pass. There was but one God left to create her Human, and one Gift left to give. Setenaya, young and wise, looked upon the remaining Gift and knew sorrow. For the last Gift was Void, and it was a thing of death, of destruction, of finality. She had no wish to force such things upon her children, and so she made her choice.

"I shall give my child no Gift, for Void is a suitable Gift for no-one and nothing," she declared. With no Gift to give, she left her Human untouched, preserved in the base form which Law had created.

"Instead, hear my words, for they are the last of my words any of you, or anybody shall ever hear. For I will not let my children go helpless into the world. If I have no suitable Gift to give, then I shall give of myself."

She leaned down to her child and Spoke, and her Voice flew from her mouth to flow into her creation. Her creation sprang to life, the Human to which she had given the Voice of a God. Wily Sozruko, the First of the Stentorians, rejoiced in his creation, and immediately sprang to and fro, using his newfound Voice to Command the True Names of everything about him.

The other Gods were shocked by their sister's gift.

"You have doomed the World!" Principa declared. "For a mortal with the command of a God and none of the wisdom spells peril for all things. Suppose he imagines to speak the True Name of Truth, of Life, of Warmth? At the whims of a mortal, all hangs in peril."

"More than Names," Breki mourned, "For the Voice of a God gives us authority to declare and to change Law. This is too much for a mortal to handle."

Sozruko was delighting in his new abilities, and all things danced about him as he Commanded them. Although the other Gods beseeched The Law to take back Setenaya's gift, there was no recourse to be had. The Law Spoke:

So it has been done, so as it always was to be, for all things have their course.

The Law reassured the Gods not to fear, and to trust in the course that had been laid. This did not comfort them, but as they watched, they saw that their fears were unfounded. Many reacted with relief, and Setenaya with sorrow. For as Sozruko used his newfound gifts with impunity, he danced merrily, his head filled with Knowledge of the Law, and of the Names of All Things. However, in giving her Voice, Setenaya had given up her divine breath, and without it, she could not Seal the gift into her child.

As Sozruko danced, he was blissfully unaware of the knowledge spilling out of his mind, and the True Names of Future, Past, and Present were the first to flee, scurrying away into the hidden depths of the World. With no voice, Setenaya could only reach out to her child noiselessly, but in his mirth he paid her no mind, and such merry did he make that the Knowledge continued to spill form his mind until he came to possess but a few True Names, and only a rough understanding of The Law.

"It is still too much," Krieg declared, "For he must only find the Knowledge he has lost, and then he shall have command of all things once more."

But Principa saw the wisdom in the course that Law had known, and spoke it to the others. "No. Perhaps it may be true that such a thing could be done, but Knowledge lost is not so easily recaptured. To find the True Names he has lost, would be a journey of a thousand lifetimes.

And so it was that the Gifts were given. and with it, was Humanity created, each race unique and beautiful in their design. Each race loved by their creator. So it was that the Law looked upon the creations, and was satisfied. The Law then Spoke:

Thus let Humanity spread, and grow, and find in each other unity, and with it, harmony."

Ruth murmured quietly from her bed. The King of Dennis smiled, and closed the book, setting it on the table. Still nestled within her bed, Ruth frowned with her eyes closed, too tired to even be properly angry.

"Nooo," she muttered sleepily. "I'm still awake. Tell me more."

Her father sighed softly, but took the book up once more.

"Very well," he told her, "But only one more."

He flipped through the pages, and came to one that he thought she would enjoy.

"This is the story," he began, "Of how Walpurgis got their ears."

So it came to pass that one day the First Goblin, the mother Gob, decided to make a stew for all the creatures of the world to taste. Now, it was well known then, as it is now, that Goblins are the finest chefs in the world, and the Great Mother of the Goblins was no exception. Her cooking was divine, for even the Gods themselves delighted to sup upon what she served. And so she took up her pack, and took to searching, for a stew large enough to feed the world would need a suitable vessel to match.

As she traveled, searching through the various calderas of the Burning Peaks, she came across Kresnik, First of the Orcs, who hailed her.

"Why, Mother Gob!" He called out, "What sets you upon your journey? Lay down your pack and speak with me!"

And so the First of the Goblins laid down her pack to rest a while, and told her brother of her plan to cook a great feast, and her search for a vessel suitable to cook it in.

"Ah," said Kresnik, "I have a remedy for your ailment!" And so saying, he Spoke the True Name of Metal, and drew Iron from the seams of the earth, flowing like water as it merged into one massive ingot, which he then shaped into a great cauldron larger than any house.

"Truly it is the finest cauldron I've seen," Mother Gob admired. She Spoke and created a staircase of stone from the Earth beneath them, and so using it, climbed to examine the great depths of the cauldron.

"This shall be a great task to fill," she noted, and stepped down towards Kresnik, who reassured her with a flex of his 'cep.

"Not to worry," he replied, "I lift."

And so the two Humans traveled to the nearby stream, and fetched some pails of water, to bring back to the cauldron. There, they should happen upon Iincho, the First of the Merrow, who was spending her idle time fishing in the stream, and had a brace of fine river trout hung, ready to be prepared. She saw the pair, and curiosity took her.

"Mother Gob, Kresnik," she called to them, setting her pole aside. "What task are you set with today?"

"A fine meal," Kresnik replied with a smile, to which Mother Gob added, "One for all the creatures of the world to share. We need water to fill our pot."

To Iincho, it sounded like a fine idea, and so she fetched up her fish and twirled on the spot, Speaking the True Name of Water. And the stream beside her leapt up and danced, and traveled along with the trio as they arrived back at the cauldron, whereupon it poured itself into the great pot, filling it at once with clean, pure water.

The fish as well, Iincho gave to the First Goblin, who took them and quickly cleaned and scaled them, before tossing them into the pot.

"Thank you for your help," Mother Gob said, wiping her hands on her apron, "But I must now find a great deal of kindling, and start a great fire to simmer the soup. So saying, she went towards the woods where Anya, the First of the Walpurgis had made her home.

However, upon the way, she happened by Spardacus, felling a tree with which to make a canoe. He hailed the group as they arrived, but was irate to see his brother, Kresnik, for Dwarves and Orcs have long held an emnity since the first Giving of Gifts.

"Mother Gob, Iincho, well met! Kresnik." he called out. "You look for all the world as if you've set on some great journey. Where do your feet take you?"

"To the woods," Mother Gob replied. "We must collect wood for a great fire, for I am preparing a stew with which to feed all the creatures of the world."

The ambitious project at once spoke to Spardacus's soul, and he puffed up his chest.

"Why," he said, "Dwarven Fire is the greatest in the world. I shall provide for you, and you needn't worry about any need of Wood, or other such nonsense."

Mother Gob thanked him for his kindness, and they journeyed back towards the cauldron. However, they had not gone unnoticed. Anya, the First of the Walpurgis followed them, driven by curiosity. The cooking party soon returned to the cauldron, whereupon they met Bazza, who had stopped to marvel at the massive stockpot.

"Strewth, somebody's having a hell of a piss up," he said, looking down at the giant stew-to be.

"I am creating a stew to feed all the creatures of the world," Mother Gob explained.

"Yeah?" Bazza asked. "Then I've got just the thing for that." So saying, the First Quarrion took to the sky, and with the Name of the Wind propelling him, rocketed over the horizon.

Anya took the opportunity to come forward, as Spardacus began to stoke and command the Fire, billowing in a hollow beneath the cauldron, to start the water simmering.

"Why, something looks delicious!" Anya said, acting as if she had just arrived upon the scene.

"It is a stew," Mother Gob told her, "A meal for all creatures of the world."

Anya licked her lips, and looked up at the stew as it was bubbling.

"Might I have a bowl?" she asked the First Goblin. Gob shook her head in response.

"It is not yet ready. I still must collect vegetables, and tubers, and meat with which to build the stew."

At this Anya delighted, for the Woods provided all such things, and so she was quick to return the way she came, to hunt. Taking the form of a great Lion, she felled two mighty stags. In the guise of a bear, she captured a wild hog, and in the form of a mole did she uproot all manner of tubers and vegetables, hauling them back while in the guise of a wild Ox.

Mother Gob was delighted to see such a bounty, and soon set about preparing the game for cooking. It was not long before Bazza returned, having flown to the far reaches of Magnum to fetch the finest and rarest herbs with which to season the stew.

The stew began to come together as more food was added to it, until soon the smell was strong enough to reach to all the far-off lands. It so happened that Sozruko, First of the Stentorians, followed the enticing aroma to its source, and found Mother Gob hard at work. Sozruko looked about and saw the contribution that each of his fellow Humans had made, and regretted not having arrived sooner.

However, he was not without his secrets, and so he knelt down and seized a smooth stone from the ground. Whispering to it, he gave it to Mother Gob, and bade her throw it into the stew. The First Goblin doubted that a stone should make a fine meal, but trusted in the words of Sozruko, and threw the stone into the stew. At once, the stew thickened, and the flavor deepened, with some secret Law or Name that Sozruko had given to the stone drawing forth the best qualities of the ingredients that Mother Gob had added.

In short time, the stew was ready, and all of the Humans broke bread and drank deeply from their bowl of stew. For Mother Gob was clear: that the stew was meant for all creatures, and so each person may have but a single bowl, to ensure there was enough to go around.

The stew was delicious beyond belief, and all of Gob's brothers and sisters were delighted to partake of it, and soon made their thanks to her and left, back to their business. All, that is, except for one.

Anya, the First of the Walpurgis, had many qualities of the beasts with which she shared a common essence, and not least among them was her beastlike hunger, exacerbated as it was by the strenuous hunt she had undertaken to help provide for the stew.

"Mother Gob," she said sweetly. "Might I have a second bowl? After all, without my contribution, the stew would be naught but water, herbs, and stone. I was first amongst those who provided for the stew. Does that not earn me a second serving?"

But Mother Gob shook her head, lifting out a spoonful of the thick, steaming broth.

"Aye, your game fed the body of the stew," she admitted. "But without Iincho, there would be no water to give such body to. Without Bazza and Sozruko, the food would have been bland, and unseasoned. Without Spardacus, the stew would be cold, and raw. Were not Kresnik there to provide a cauldron, I might still be searching even now. And of course, without my hand, there would have been no stew to begin with."

So saying, she denied Anya, and held her spoon to her chest.

"We could not have done it without your help, but that does not mean you deserve that which others must be denied. For I only have just enough soup to give a bowl to all creatures of the world. Nobody may drink two."

And so, dejected, Anya took her leave, and watched as Rabbit came to the pot, and received a bowl of soup. It was then that Anya hatched a plan, and soon ducked into the trees, where she changed into the form of a quick brown fox, and moved like velvet back to the cauldron.

"Hullo, Mother Gob," the fox spoke, and Mother Gob smiled down upon it. "Might I have a bowl of soup?"

"Of course, Fox," the First Goblin replied, not knowing it to be her sister in a guise. "There is enough for everybody to have some."

And so Anya scurried off with her bowl, and transforming back, scarfed it down. But her hunger was still unsatisfied, and so she transformed again, into a badger, and shuffled her way over back to the cook.

"Hullo, Mother Gob," the badger spoke. Gob looked over at the badger, and narrowed an eye.

"Say," she said, "Your voice is familiar. Haven't you already had your bowl?" she asked.

"Not I," the badger lied. "I am Badger, and I have not yet come to sup on your stew."

Mother Gob began to feel like she was on a prank show, but she relented, and gave a bowl to the badger, who likewise scurried off once more.

And so it went, with Anya taking shape after shape, and tricking bowl after bowl from her sister, until it came to pass that Fox in truth came up to the cauldron, and found that Gob had already served her a bowl of soup.

Fox howled, betrayed and soupless, at the fact that somebody had stolen her stew. She howled and cried so long and so hard that Brigid herself, who was the patron of all wild creatures, came to see what the fuss was.

Fox told her of the problem, and it so happened that Anya came back to the cauldron at this time, wearing the guise of a wild cat, and confident in her deception. But the eyes of a God are not so easy to deceive, and so Brigid angrily reached out and seized her favored daughter.

With a shake of the wrist, she held Anya by the tail, transforming the rest of her back to her true, Human form.

"Behold, the thief!" Brigid declared, ashamed by her daughter's actions. "She shall be punished!"

Anya trembled, but Mother Gob begged Brigid for mercy, as she knew the Goddess of Bravery had a temper to make the heavens shake.

"There was little true harm," Gob beseeched the Goddess. "So long as she does not do it again, then I have no desire to see her in pain."

And so Brigid looked down at her child, and her fury abated, although her heart did not soften to the point of forgiveness.

"I shall ensure that you will commit no such treachery again," she decreed, and so saying, reached down pulled at the tops of Anya's head, producing first one, then a second cat ear. She then cast down her daughter, satisfied with the punishment.

Anya was confused at first, then soon found that she could not bring forth the Name of Fox, or the name of Beaver, or the name of Lion. She had been forced into the name of Cat.

"Now all shall know you when they gaze upon you," Brigid declared, "You shall still change freely between the animal you have chosen and your true form, but you shall not command the shape of all beasts. And so it shall be for your daughters, that each may use but a single creature chosen within their soul."

And so it was, and to this day, Walpurgis may only transform into a single creature, and a Walpurgis is always known, by the ears upon their head, and by other features, that mark her so that she may no longer deceive others with her form.

King Greer closed the storybook, careful not to take his eyes off his sleeping daughter. He moved slowly, careful not to make any sound lest he wake her up once more. While he cherished reading stories to her, he could not risk being caught in a third. There were things to do, a Kingdom to run. And some of the whispers he had been hearing of, in the neighboring countries, had him worried.

King Greer gently closed the door to his daughter's room as he left, turning out the light so that the room was dark save for the glowing stars painted on the ceiling. Ruth turned in her bed, smiling, and dreamed of Gifts and stew all through the night.

*******

Rathus held the Shell Phone up to the princess, who stared down at it in surprise. His hand still covered the receiver.

"I can... tell him you're asleep if ya need," the Gun Knight offered.

Ruth snapped back to attention, her mind traveling back to the present. She looked from the Gun Knight to the phone, and shook her head. She shouldn't have been surprised to hear back from her father, after the amount she'd just spent. Her heart pounded as she picked up the phone. Would this simply be about the money? Had he been trying to reach her? For how long?

The princess took the phone from the Gun Knight, and raised it to her ear.

"Hello?" she asked, nervously.

Her father's voice came through over the line, sighing, as if in relief.

"Ruth."

The princess's heart pounded in her chest.