March 24, 2019. 11:13 pm.

Rufka pulls me out of the air with a laugh, asking, “Does it count if we’re the ones who rescue Smoulder?”

“Of course not. What’s the point of having subjects if they can’t do something as simple as return my companion from where she's trapped hundreds of years in the past?” I ask, keeping my nose in the air.

“It would certainly impress me,” Tipan agrees, her mohawk bobbing as she nods.

“Sure. I’ll let Baska know,” Wyonna practically chirps.

I start waving my hands at Wyonna, “I wasn’t actually serious.”

“Oh. So, no on the letting people stay here then?” Wyonna asks, her hand raised as though she were about to do something I'd regret. Pretty sure she doesn’t need to use her hands.

“They can stay, I just…” I shrug, not sure exactly what to say.

“Don’t want to be queen.” Tipan nods.

“I mean, how do you even queen? Is that a verb? It feels like it should be a verb.”

“You learn how to do operatic rock. Or you ask for help. And you let me do all the boring stuff,” Wyonna suggests, winking at me.

“Oh, you mean, like come up with a code of law, taxation, and all that stuff?” I ask. I’m getting a headache just thinking about it. There’s so much that would go into ruling people. Even if it’s ‘only’ a hundred thousand, I mean where would-

“Done,” this time Wyonna does chirp.

I stare blankly at her for a second before I remember who and what she is. “Can I see it?”

“Totally. I’ve highlighted a few sections you might want to provide feedback on. And I’ve created a couple sample contracts for government employees, including for your militia and special forces.”

Rufka’s laughter makes it hard for me to hear the last sentence, she’s wheezing so hard. Tipan on the other hand, joins me in looking through Wyonna’s prepared files. It’s… extensive. But mostly administered by the System. Because of course it has default rules in place for governance. I send Wyonna a message, asking her to get Baska and any other important K’tharn to look over the proposed rules before returning to my review. The rules I’m looking over sound nothing like what the Aetherium had.

“A tax on levelling up? That just seems cruel. There’s no way I’m doing that,” I note.

“That tax pays for the dedicated training that will go into ensuring each squad is properly prepared to enter a dungeon," Wyonna informs me.

Tipan nods. “We aren’t used to paying a tax on levelling and I’m certain many would object. Perhaps instead, we can have a fee for the training.”

Pacing back and forth, I point the copy of the dungeon laws I was reading at Tipan as I say, “Yeah. But we should ensure they receive training for one dungeon free. Maybe a choice of one of the four types of dungeon. We know of enough outside the Aetherium’s control that shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

Rufka plops down beside us. “Wait, you’re really going to do this, Lexi?”

Looking at the luminescent screens, then over to Rufka, I nod. “I think so. This seems like it could help us get everything together for Earth. And with Wyonna performing most of the administration, we’ll be able to coordinate in a way most governments can only dream about. And she can analyze people to further delegate responsibility. Keep as many K'tharn in charge as possible. Though…”

I turn back to the screens, trying to find Wyonna’s proposal for the criminal code. I’ve gone through several pages when Wyonna asks, “are you looking for something in particular Lex?”

“Uh, yeah. Do you have the criminal code in here?”

A new screen appears, hovering above my existing screens. “Why are so many of the rules in red?”

“They’re set by the System. I’m unable to change them. Though you might be able to once you’re registered at a Nexus. Especially if we’re able to register Pelwerd as a System Stronghold.”

“We can do that?” I ask, looking up. Being able to turn a Sanctuary into a Stronghold… That’d be amazing. “Too bad my System access is crap right now.”

“I’ve heard of ships being made into Strongholds before. But this is Builder tech, so I don’t know. It might not work,” Wyonna answers, her mohawk changing from pink to blue then back again.

“Okay. Something to keep in mind,” I say, turning back to the criminal code. Most of it lines up with things I already know.

Don’t kill your fellow users or you’ll lose the ability to level.

Unless you’re at war with another System-state. Then you’re allowed to kill enemy users. But the System penalizes you based on the strength of the user. No wonder the M’tari were so careful about not killing people when they attacked. Except… that penalty wouldn't apply to their Dusk Athama. Huh.

Oh, you can also kill people if the System gives you a quest to do so. Because of course it wouldn't penalize itself.

There are also provisions for all sorts of other exceptions. Unintentional death from self-defence. Any death outside of System-approved government controlled territory. Death by self-immolation? Hmm. Okay, technically that penalizes yourself if you have Restoration.

Going through the conditions, I determine simply establishing myself as a System-approved government will mean the System will enforce laws for me within my controlled territory. And most of the restricted rules can have harsher penalties imposed, but not lighter ones.

Between the System and Wyonna, I could create the ultimate surveillance state. “Hey, Wyonna.”

“Yes?”

“Are you watching these people all the time?”

“Not all the time. There’s a limit to my processing capabilities even with the city at my disposal. Besides, why would I want to?

“Good. I’d rather not become Big Sister.”

“Noted. I’ll be big sister, and you can be little sister.”

Rufka lays her head in my lap, disrupting my response as she mutters, “head scratches.”

“What, are you Smoulder now?” I ask.

“If it gets me head scratches, sure.”

Wyonna says, “Or I guess she can be the little sister."

Tipan laughs, “I think she might be our strange adopted pu’shaha.”

“Hey!” I object, while giving Rufka her head-scratches. “Rufka can’t be my child. Don’t make things weird.”

“Yeah, like Lexi sa- Oh, that’s nice, right there,” Rufka moans.

Tipan’s still chuckling as she says, “Yeah. I don’t believe I’m the one making things weird.”

“Whatever,” I grumble, turning back to Wyonna’s paperwork. There are a few more minor issues we address, but ultimately, I can’t help but feel like the proposed rules are well thought out. Almost as if Wyonna knows me and chose options I'd approve of. Go figure.

“Should we be getting everybody’s opinions?” I wonder as I finally finish reviewing the last page.

“Depends. You wanna listen to all their idiotic ideas?” Rufka asks me.

“Hey, those are my royal subjects you’re talking about,” I protest, tilting my chin upward.

“Yep. Idiots,” Rufka agrees.

Tipan throws a pillow at Rufka's head before addressing me, “We should at least contact Baska and any other leaders among the refugees. They may have worthwhile feedback.”

“Uh. Yeah, I actually asked Wyonna to do that when we started. Or… did I ask you to do that, Wyonna?” I look over to where her image is sitting at an illusory desk, flipping through a comic book I don’t recognize.

“Yep. You messaged me.”

“Right, I… I didn’t even have to focus to do that,” I say, squinting as I concentrate on the feel of the air. No static.

“While you’re in the city the restrictions aren’t in effect.”

“Huh. Useful.” I float to my feet, not bothering to warn Rufka, setting her to the side with a wave of air mana as I move to the roof. While she’s sputtering out a protest, I push a steel lunchbox through my teleport. It arrives completely unharmed twenty metres away.

For the first time since the lockdown, I consider teleporting myself outside my aura. Even if my System is still flickering, I realize… I miss it.

“Hey Lexi, what’re you-” the rest of Rufka’s words are lost as I reappear next to the distant lunchbox. I start dancing around the lunchbox, which causes my side to twinge in pain, but I don’t stop until Rufka reaches me.

“Sorry, I just had to,” I say, pulling her close for an enthusiastic kiss.

“Whoa,” Rufka whispers when we finally pull away. “I thought you weren’t able to port around.”

“I thought so too. But it seems the city’s protected,” I say, letting out a sigh of relief while leaning my head on her shoulder. “You know, I didn’t expect to miss it so much.”

“And now?” Rufka asks.

“It’s like I can breathe again.”

“That’s funny, cause you just took my breath away.”

“And I’m not done,” I say, pulling her close despite the pain.

Totally worth.

There’s something about having a warm bath while watching the land below pass at more than 600km/h that makes a morning dip invigorating. Maybe it’s the feeling of freedom. Or the view. I know the massage from Rufka is a contributing factor. “Hmmm, that’s nice,” I mumble as she works a knot on my unseared side.

The great thing about magic is I’m able to give Rufka a massage at the same time she’s massaging me, a pair of disembodied hands formed of water floating behind her. Combined with my mana sense and perfect understanding of K’tharn biology, I’m probably the best masseuse on the planet.

Unless there’s a masseuse subclass. There probably is. Wonder if I could convince Rufka to take it.

“We should be arriving at Pearlescent Summers in less than an hour,” Wyonna informs me from where she’s sitting on the edge of the, frankly ridiculously large, hot tub. Maybe it's a small heated pool? Her legs flicker whenever she puts them into the water, the image not quite stable enough to withstand being immersed. But she does it anyway.

“Did the numbers change?” Tipan asks, from her separate bath nearby. I’d offered to share, but she declined, making her own that didn’t have a transparent wall looking over the edge.

“More have decided to become subjects of the esteemed Rabbit-Queen," Wyonna chuckles. "A lot more. The dungeon training was surprisingly popular.”

“Any chance we can go with something other than Rabbit-Queen?” I ask, bracing against the transparent wall as Rufka puts extra effort into her task.

“We can choose any official moniker you want,” Tipan says. “But they will likely continue referring to you as the Rabbit-Queen for some time.”

“Still can’t believe so many people want me as their leader.”

“They want a future,” Rufka states while relaxing her efforts.

“Don’t see how I’m better for that, but okay,” I lean back into Rufka, letting her wrap her arms around me. “Guess I should get dressed.”

Another issue with this whole System glitching means I leave my clothing lying around when I’m not wearing them, unlike every other user on the planet. Good thing I can create a clothes-rack out of thin air.

Pulling the clothes rack closer, I raise a stone privacy curtain around us before getting dressed. Wyonna spends a full minute trying to convince me to use more regal clothes. But as I pull aunt Sharon’s jacket into place, I can’t imagine anything more magnificent. Glad I was able to regenerate it using an integration point, even if the System access was weird about it. Not sure why it took mana.

I do concede on the pants though. Kind of. Wyonna said I should at least stick to a theme. Don’t know where Wyonna managed to source a set of leather pants with pockets that fit me so well, but she did. And they match my jacket while being surprisingly comfy, so she wins this round.

Still not wearing the crown though.

“I think the elemental crown would look cool,” Rufka teases as I emerge.

“I’d do it if there weren’t thousands of K’tharn flying around the city,” I respond, pointing at a pair of familiar K’tharn a few buildings away. The same pair that were busy spreading tall tales of my feats earlier. They audibly squeal when I point at them, jumping up and down while holding each other. “Dammit. Are they… Wyonna, are they squeeing at me?”

“Yep. How awesome is that?”

“Let’s just do the thing. Are you sure this is necessary?” I ask Tipan.

Tipan just gives me a shy smile accompanied by a miniscule raising of her shoulders. “No? But most M’tari are big on ceremony.”

“So you people keep telling me. Starting to wish more were like Hansome,” I mumble as we fly toward the throne under the veil of invisibility. The area around the throne is once more packed. Yet unlike before, many of these K’tharn are tentatively my subjects. Again, we can’t make it official in the eyes of the System until I reach a Nexus. And I’m not summoning a giant ice-castle in the middle of the city. With how everyone is already treating me? Just… no. Especially since we now have a Nexus that’s a mere diplomatic courtesy away. Despite my System glitching, Wyonna is sure I’ll be able to register the new kingdom. Long as I make enough attempts.

Within the plaza, the throne remains untouched, but there are a new pair of statues flanking the entrance. And of course, they’re both images of my current form, immortalizing my cyclopiness. The one on the left is holding her hand to the sky, a bolt of lighting grasped tightly. The statue on the right shows me… I’m not sure, kneeling down to bless my subjects or something.

[Alexis] “Wyonna. What’s with the statues.”

[Wyonna] “You said I could decorate so long as I didn’t touch the throne.”

Even though I’m invisible, now that I’m in front of over a thousand people, I don’t rub my forehead. But it’s a near thing. “I was thinking more Smoulder decorations. No one wants to see my ugly mug. And speaking of which, why did you use my messed-up face?”

[Wyonna] “Because that’s how they recognize you.”

Figures. If I’d realized this was going to be an issue, I would’ve figured out a basic illusion to cover my appearance instead of working beside them in the open.

Receiving nods of readiness from Rufka and Tipan, I use a Twilight-enhanced snap of my fingers to dispel our invisibility. The crowd’s murmurs quiet, but don’t go silent. Which is fine. This time I’m not on my throne for them.

Our Sanctuary is at the edge of Pearlescent Summer’s airspace. There are over a hundred Noon Athama flying about, their dazzling brightness mostly ornamental as the representative from Pearlescent Summer is escorted through the empty street. This would all be completely unnecessary if I hadn’t elected to go with the path of being a sovereign. A fact Wyonna chose to hide from me until all the arrangements had been made.

Treachery of the highest order.

The approaching representative isn’t a K’tharn, though they could pass for one at a glance. Instead of the typical four arms, and four eyes, they only have two of each. It’s strangely unsettling.

I think I’ve been on Akilo too long.

As they get closer, I can see that their facial structure is different as well. They’re more like Demo than a K’tharn. Though again, they’re lacking his multitude of tails.

They land on a dais a hundred metres before my throne, set there by Wyonna for precisely this purpose.

“Queen Pandora,” The dignitary calls out, the first use of my official name. No way was I going to make Rabbit-Queen official. “My name is Atla M’thalinix. I come on behalf of Lady Thinnesq. She humbly invites you and your court to dine with her tonight.”

[Wyonna] “Looks like Lady Thinnesq is taking you seriously. Atla is one of her personal Depth'ree. The super special guards. His name showed up in more than one of the early skirmish reports the K’mintar sent Genitha.”

“In the name of future peace and prosperity between our people, Queen Pandora accepts Lady Thinnesq’s gracious offer. May her membrane remain ever moist,” Tipan says with a straight face. I can hear Rufka snickering, but I pretend not to notice. Mostly because I’m struggling not to laugh myself.

“And may your fur remain dry,” Atla responds.

[Alexis] “Wyonna, was that an insult?”

[Wyonna] “It’s hard to say. It’s a traditional saying when addressing one of the ministers of the Aetherium. But as you know, the M’tari don’t think highly of the Aetherium.”

Hmm. Treat it as a veiled insult then.

Tipan and Atla continue trading compliments that could be taken as insult for the next few minutes, as Rufka and I both struggle to remain serious throughout. Nothing of real note is said by either of them. Finally, they reach the end of the ‘traditional’ invitation and Atla departs. The moment he’s out of sight of the crowd below, we vanish, flying upward. I teleport us to the edge of the city where Baska is waiting in an abandoned building with a view of Pearlescent Summers. With my abilities working within the city, it was a simple matter to connect a tether to her to serve as a beacon.

I watch Atla as he leaves the city, surrounded by the noon Athama the moment he clears the barrier.

Now that we’ve been invited, I don’t feel any need to keep Lady Thinnesq waiting. With a blink of my eyes, we teleport to the landing platform located next to the terraced tower at the center of their city. It’s somewhat gratifying to see the way the guard posted there stumbles when we appear. Too bad it’s a one-way trick. No more long-range teleportation unless I’m back in the Sanctuary.

Still, it places us inside the city before Atla can return. We could've waited, but Tipan suggested teleporting despite the System's restrictions would reinforce our image of strength. When Atla arrives well ahead of the noon Athama, I take it as a sign she was correct.

He doesn’t say anything important, bowing and muttering something about esteemed guests and to follow him. He leads us across the city, through the air, the rules requiring visitors to travel by foot suspended for dignitaries.

If only they knew I was the one the Aetherium were trying to arrest to placate them not so long ago. All part of the legend of the Rabbit-queen, I suppose.

Oh no. Now even I’m thinking it.