It turned out that day would not be the day Ulric would get to see the Elven smiths at work. Barely a few minutes after he and his Shadow had settled into a heavy silence following heavy discussion, the promised messengers of Irielhos found them and reported that they could be resettled if they would follow this way please.

  Ulric acquiesced, for lack of any better options, and they were led to a set of rooms on the ninth level, one down, from where they had been found. Again and again the architecture, the free flowing natural sculpture, the blending of raw timber, living tree, and worked lumber wove together seamlessly to create a tapestry that was as a prayer to the living world to Ulric's eye.

  At the end of the day, the Elves loved life. All that they were screamed it. These deep woods folk could be, at times, harder than the hinges on the gates of hell. They were a product of a violent world that they were, at a cultural, maybe even species level, determined to be one with.

  As far as Ulric could tell the Elves treated Varda as an epic game of skill, one in which they would play to win, for as long as possible, loving every minute of it. He wasn't sure, not having spent anything close to enough time to gain the data to back this instinct up, but he had a feeling that, of all of its tribes and peoples, Iriel made up the beating heart of Orlethrem. A core of fundamental Elfishness.

  The apartments Ulric was led to were finer than the last, which had held a certain air of spartan simplicity. The previous room was, evidently, a Warrior's quarters. Belonging to the sister of a royal guardswoman named Senna, the name of which mystery lover he did not know. Nor did he know what had transpired to lead to that tryst.

  Bald’rt had said something about throwing hands. Could he have meant…no, that was probably a mistranslation on his part. Sexual liberation was one thing, rock paper scissors Bang! For lovers was a next level of awesome Ulric wasn’t prepared to contemplate.

  Anyhow, He had no recollection of how he'd gotten there or what had taken place to lead to that eventuality, but the lovely Elf lass that had so thoroughly used him was, according to his host a woman-at-arms of sorts. Comparing these quarters to those, there was little to indicate that the apartments for the soldiery were purely utilitarian. Both apartments had been carved as beatifically as if for an artist. What separated this housing from the those of the wondrous vision that had greeted him on the morn, was in the layout.

  This lodging was larger in size, for one. Two rooms linked through a central sitting room. The smaller room was for Geyrt’s use the woman herself informed him, as befitting a lord's Shadow, a still baffling component to Ulric's sensibilities. The larger room was for himself and it held a treat in a large wall length book shelf packed with leather bound tomes.

  All of these were in Elvish which meant Ulric wouldn't be able to read a single word of them, a cock tease of such majestic proportion he could have wept. Sitting down to a fine book had been one of his greatest pleasures in the Before. That was a simple pleasure long denied him.

  Even were he able to read, and casual inspection of the symbols that scrawled cryptically over pages without meaning revealed that not to be the case, he hadn’t had much in the way of time to sit in his leaf and cut boughs bush bed and pore over a tome. Would his time here, in the hospitality of the Deep Woods Elves grant him that luxury? Probably not. For some reason, Ulric’s instincts said he would scarcely find time to simply recline by a fireplace, of which one was in this apartment, and page through an Iriel’en history or meander through a treatise on some arcane treatment for metallic crystallization.

  A man could dream though.

  The once scholarly engineer resolved that, during this winter, he would learn the script that would unlock the gates of literary paradise. Turning his attention elsewhere, lest he depress himself, he noted once more exceedingly fine furniture, with all the inlays, majestic representations of Iriel'en druidic worship of growing things he had come to expect, if not become indifferent to.

  Gods blood did these long-eared forever living bastards love woodwork, and do it well!

  Other flourishes included a balcony he could walk out onto, to gaze overlooking the evening suns, which even now fell towards the horizon, casting golden light upon the Elven citadel and the grand forest it guarded. The bewildered man simply had to inspect these floor length woven veranda portals that did not appear capable of resisting the elements, yet allowed no movement of heat from the outside to the interior. Opening the swinging doors, he went out upon the balcony to examine the unfolding of the fortress levels that spiraled beneath him and the monumental vista that stretched to the horizon, whose distant mountainous peaks were actually much farther away than his senses had implied.

  Ulric didn't stay out there for long, however, a pounding wind that held chill enough to cut through to his bones was present. Inside, he felt none of that cool, sharp front. Outside, it heralded the onset of a cruel cold.

  The storm was approaching, and, now Ulric understood why the Aes’r had named it so. Winter’s Herald was as accurate a label as could be applied to this season ending blow. Whirling clouds of colored dust viewed briefly from his high perch, leaves by the thousands blown free of their last desperate hold to their parent trees, were flying like schools of fish in slivers of brown, yellow, orange, and the occasional red.

  It would be this storm which would strip the trees to naked branches and commence Winter's reign. Gods, what a way to start the season, the man bewildered by the sheer majesty of Varda yet again observed.

  Ulric was then informed that a bath, an honest to gods bath was available for his use. Why had these heathen monsters not said something beforehand?! Here he stood in the dirt of a nearly week-long crawl through the rough woodland terrain, sweat soaked leather garb, and covered in the blood of the monsters he'd killed. And nobody had said not one word about a bath. He couldn't smell himself any longer; that scent was long gone, filtered out so his brain could focus on odors that indicated pointed canines and sharpened claws or the prey smell that would be food for his belly.

  Ulric froze briefly at a thought. Ye gods was that why his lover the last night left so soon? No matter how good a lay you were, if you smelled like he probably smelled there was no bearing it. No, wait, pump the brakes Glade Chief. These are the hardiest, toughest, sonsofbitches he'd ever even heard of. A little dirt was not going to put them off. A child of their people waded through the guts of his foes and treated it like nothing. It's fine. Don't over think shit. Besides, she didn’t run away, she came back for seconds. And thirds.

  Brain wrangled, something he hadn't really had to do in a while, probably because he didn't give two fucks about much being by himself, he was off to the bath, Shadow in tow with all haste. He hoped she'd get a turn, it must suck being forced to wait hand and foot and she's just walking right on into the bath with him.

  Ok, Ulric rationalized, that was dumb. Where was the best place to murder a visiting Lord? A pagan outlander insulting your cherished sacred ground of millennia with their filthy animal paws? The bathroom, where they were completely naked and defenseless, of course you check it out. Duh. This Shadow stuff was going to take some getting used to.

  Ulric gave her a minute to scope out the situation while he settled himself and started to remove his armor. He really should have done that back in his rooms, but he'd been so excited about the prospect of a bath that he'd barely stopped to unheft his pack and prop his trident on the wall next to the bed.

  Off came the shoulder pauldrons. The straps of his semi lorica came next and he shed the thing, along with its attached leather jerkin, to stand naked to the waist.

  At last.

  The Twice-borne man had come to the realization, long ago in the glade, that, temperature permitting, he actually enjoyed being naked. It was liberating. Brighteyes had disrupted a fairly commonplace even in which he stood bare to the winds while cooking dinner over a good hot bed of coals, relishing the duality of being heated from the front and chilled from the back. There was a particular joy to standing ass out next to a big camp fire and he dared anyone to deny it that had had the pleasure.

  Next came the belt, vambrace, shin guards and armored skirt. Finally, he'd returned to nature's intent and turned around to find Geyrt Iriel, the most glorious living creature he'd ever seen, butt naked holding a basket that had something in it, gesturing towards the water. Ulric would never be able to say, with any certainty what was in that basket. Even the basket might have been a trick of the light. Brain numbed by his hotness radar breaking down permanently, he allowed himself to follow paradise into paradise.

  Nobody mentioned, at any point, that the baths were unisex.

  It also never occurred to anyone to mention to the visiting outlander that a Shadow always bathed with their lord, for the purpose of fulfilling their duty, which again, should have been obvious to him, but was not because he was an idiot. Furthermore, and this was incredibly unfair, there was no sense of propriety amongst the Elves regarding catcalling.

  This was how he found himself, shocked to his literal core, spinning to face a series of isolated pools surrounding a single large pool, steam billowing, from which a chorus of whistles were airing their appreciation of his naked form. It was a three to one split on which whistles were from female vs male elves.

  There are some things that a harsh life of survival in the wilderness do not prepare you for. Actually, this might be the literal only one that doesn't come up sooner or later.

  Embarrassment flushed through him, bringing a brilliant blush he couldn't stop. He was very nearly going to flee, until he witnessed his Shadow striding past easily to step into the pool and recline comfortably, a sigh escaping her lips. He couldn't help but follow her motion with his eyes. He wasn't the only one. And then he made a minor breakthrough. So then…this is what it is to be treated like an object of sexual gratification.

  After a moment's reflection…to let that soak in, Ulric Einar made up his mind. You know what? Ulric thought. Not bad he decided. Not bad at all. Fuck it, I look good enough to eat. Let'em watch. He turned, making a point to do it slowly, which set off another round of whistles, and gave a wave and a bow to the baths, and strode in his glory to set himself into the pool next to his Shadow who had appeared to dissolve into a contented slick of darkness just beneath the water.

  When he hit the water, he found out why. It was perfect. An absolute perfect temperature, hot enough to melt the tension in the body. He couldn't suppress a groan as he slid into the pool.

  With the exotic show over, the usual bathers returned to their conversations and hygiene. This was probably yet another Elven rite of passage. They seemed determined to weed out insecurities of any kind. Including self-consciousness or body image issues.

  Maybe they figured if you weren't comfortable in your own skin, they figured it was because you were trying to hide some kind of flaw. I mean…he thought, giving that perspective its due diligence…they weren't wrong. It's just that no one in his old world would have been bluntly ruthless enough to point it out or make a show of that kind of insecurity. Or maybe it's just that, the Elves were collectively ass afficionados and Ulric passed muster.

  He didn't know, and, now that he'd had time to dismiss the almost instinctive remnants of semi puritan social conventions of a world long dead to him, decided he didn't care. We all are who we are. And fuck anybody who has a problem with it.

  Besides, now that he'd settled in, the view in the baths was well worth the ticket price. He saw the entire spectrum of Elven physique displayed here, in all their glory. Men and women alike, the Iriel'en were nearly intimidating for their beauty. Many sat on the sides of the pools completely exposed and not a whit of concern about it. They were…free. Liberated. None of the pseudo-christian guilt or body shame. None of the sexist determinations about which parts of the body were considered profane or overtly sexual whatever the hell that had ever meant. Like the entire body wasn't a sexual object. You find me a room with a thousand people in it, and I will find you an anatomy book's worth of fetishes, he mused to himself. The Elves in the bath were, all of them, comfortable. And their comfort made Ulric comfortable.

  Eyes closed Ulric let himself bask in the heat that was, even now, leeching into his bones. He lost track of time, mind emptied.

  "It is good that you didn't run." Geyrt's voice, low and private, a music to light his libido on fire without effort broke his zen.

  "Most humans avoid the baths or only cleanse themselves in isolation. In the other cities of Orlethrem otherkin are far more common and they have odd behavior around the baths. They pretend that there are no others and, mostly, flee, when we whistle them. It is a game to most of the Iriel'en who are stationed or traveling through these places to see if the Otherkin will be soft enough to leave when we welcome them to the bath. We do not know why they fear their own nudity, each of us carries scars and defects and it is foolish to obsess over the attitudes of a stranger. But it is good that you don't share this weakness."

  So said the most flawless living woman he'd ever seen.

  Guess it's easy to be confident when you're stunning. It was not very long ago that Ulric would not have been pleased to be seen naked. Between the scars, the limp, and the thirty pounds of extra weight. No indeed, confidence was more difficult when there were flaws to be observed. The Iriel’en hazed people to see how brave they were. Now why did that not surprise him?

  "It was the custom of my people to bath mostly in isolation for the purpose of cleaning only. There were different places for relaxation, for the most part,” Ulric explained, not sure why he felt a need to, maybe just to share some fragment of old Earth, “A similar place, the steam room, was where we relaxed in the nude. I was fairly unbothered by those environments, although many did not share this lack of reservation. There were…social precepts that dictated nudity was a thing only shared between lovers and close kin, for the most part. Some took it to extremes, prudes. Back then it seemed normal, it was just the way of things."

  Ulric looked around, seeing all these folk enjoying the steam, the heated water, and the act of being clean while they shared good company.

  "Now, outside of that place, it does seem a little silly. Almost juvenile, to be afraid of the perceptions of others or your own body,” Ulric was willing to admit, before pushing back just a little, “I know your people live an insulated life here, but it bears thinking that some people are trained from birth to have certain…outlooks or reservations…that would make your teasing threatening.”

  He had a thought and voiced it.

  “That's the point though I guess…you can't see how brave someone is until you show them something they fear. Still though, isn't that a little, I dunno, hostile?" He asked.

  "So what if it is?” She asked, honestly confused. “Why is it our responsibility to coddle the weaknesses of Otherkin? If they falter at a crowd of whistles, how will their nerve hold when a Greater Beast roars down their spine? Better to know who would stand at your shoulder and who would flee. And, besides, it is not only a thing done to harass, it is a genuine praise. Only the ones who thought you attractive would call. None would do so purely for spite, that would be reason for insult and challenge. It would be rude. Among us the sight of one's body is not a thing to own or whose appreciation is to be a reason for offense, barring that you have made your feelings on the matter known. It is the same between us; I know your eyes follow my hips when I walk and I do not object." His Shadow replied.

  Busted. Well, not like he tried to hide it or anything. Hadn't he admitted already that he found her beautiful? It was just another thing to acclimate to, their odd mix of subtle discourse mixed with blunt straightforwardness. He did need to push back a little though.

  "Didn't you say my gaze felt like acid not real long ago? Among some other things that don't bear repeating." He pointed out, eyes still closed as he soaked.

  Oddly enough that did seem to disturb her, for once. He heard hands scrubbing through midnight hair freed from its intricate braid and low mutterings in Elvish he couldn't follow. Eventually she gathered her thoughts enough to defend herself, or so he thought.

  "I would prefer you forget that. All of it. I was trying to incite you, trying to build cause to either kill you myself or have Father do it by claiming insult. I said things no Iriel'en should say and the memory burns. I would ask this: please forget everything that has happened before my Father's proclamation. You do not owe me this, I have earned my shame. But I would not have you think that such words reflect on my people, my hatreds were my own. We have our own ways of seeing the world and our own expectations, and these are viewed as harsh by outsiders. We do not however, as a rule, hate the Otherkin, even if we would believe their ways sometimes backwards or soft." She said, in a milder tone than was her norm.

  That was, near as he could tell, the closest thing to an apology that this thorny woman was capable of, Ulric thought. Best to quit while you're ahead.

  "I can live with that. It's a hell of an ask, but I can live with it. But only if you stop thinking that every time I do something that diverges from the norm in Iriel that I'm some heathen that does it to spite you. I have an entire literal lifetime of prejudices, expectations, histories, assumptions, and straight up nonsense that I have to wade through to understand you people, with none of the benefit of ever having been raise in this world. You don't always say it, but I can feel it crawling between those ears. I will not be treated as some uncultured barbarian, and I expect your help to understand how to fit in with your kin." He told her softly but firmly.

  Ulric turned to face her held her gaze while he did it. This was not a matter on which he was prepared to budge. He thought she might object to the ears comment, but she squashed that frown quickly and instead held out her hand.

  "Done. I will accept your limitations if you will leave my shame in the past." She said, recalling their previous similar interaction to offer her hand.

  Taking her offer and giving it a single squeeze he sealed the bargain.

  "Done."

  A second deal closed and a bargain at that. Ulric was starting to feel good about the fair folk. This one in particular was improving rapidly, in his estimation.

  Quiet descended on their location as the two settled back into their respective positions in the water.

  The baths had been crafted with a bench seat about one meter down into the water and gently sloped downwards before a gentle step provided a spot for the feet to settle. Curved pockets in the sides of the pool were carved to give the bather a relaxed place in which to soak. Additionally, flattened wood blocks with carefully rounded edges were laid next to the reclining pockets, whose use Ulric saw was to be placed under the arms so that you could rest your limbs atop the water while reclining nearly completely, the wood was plenty buoyant enough to support the weight of a limb. The result was a magnificently restful experience.

  So restful Ulric thought he might drift away.

  "It is not rude to let your eyes roam a woman or man's body to whom you are attracted." Geyrt spoke, shattering again Ulric's calm.

  He was damned. Sentenced to a life time bereft of peace. A prisoner of this hateful creature who would see his torment well and truly delivered, Ulric decided, reversing his previous good will. Even after they had settled the majority of their differences this monster would never relent in her pursuit of his suffering. It was the beast's nature to punish mercilessly all attempts at repose.

  Ulric's eyes snapped open to glare at his Shadow. Had that been a faint smile? Surely not, the steam in the room was clouding his vision. Wiping his eyes to clear them Ulric turned to find her relaxing with a smooth neutral expression, emerald flecked with bronze transfixing him with her even gaze.

  "What?" Ulric asked trying to return his thoughts from the fog of near sleep.

  "Like now, you are allowed to look upon a woman's body, it is considered a compliment, mostly, unless the staring is gratuitous." She continued raising an eyebrow.

  He realized that he was, in fact, gratuitously staring. Ye gods they floated. He ripped his eyes away to focus only on her face. Honestly, he'd thought he was basically over that. For her part she was completely unphased. That slight lift of her eyebrow being the only indication she'd even noticed.

  "It is not an insult, as many Otherkin seem to believe. If the one being observed is not interested they will make this known. Some do so by purposefully turning their gaze away, others do it by using this hand gesture." Geyrt explained, one hand making a flicking motion from her eyes towards the floor as if shedding the offending gaze.

  Ulric very carefully did not allow his eyes to follow her hand downwards.

  "In all of this there is no hostility or ill feeling. But if they signal their disinterest and you continue to look, then they will have cause to lay a challenge to you if they are insulted. If it is a married woman or man their spouse will be able to join them in this challenge so it is not a wise thing to offend married folk, who may be indicated by a metal armband that spirals from wrist toward the elbow. Discrete glances are expected, and none would bother to even think of them. It is well that you have not been overly encouraged by those looks that you have received, sometimes Otherkin overreact to a mere appreciative glance, as if promises were made." The amazon said, relaxing again into the water.

  Ulric thought about her statements carefully, trying to internalize these important "ground rules" to Elf social conventions. At least it sort of made sense so far. No one had yet been insulted, it would appear in his casual examinations. He'd assumed their returned consideration was the sheer novelty of a Human in a place where they had not been seen in many years, if the Iriels weren't exaggerating. They did very little in the way of making mountains out of mole hills did the Elves, their humor was more inclined towards downplaying and understatement.

  Sort of like the people who had immigrated from the Britanno-European Compact, when ocean current shifts had turned their part of the world into a glacier. Collapse had been largely kickstarted by those ocean current shifts and he'd grown used to that kind of humor in his old neighborhood. He was pulled from his recollection when his Shadow continued her discussion having noticed that he'd checked out.

  "You do this well, mostly, a glance and nothing more. In fairness, the times you fail are mostly acceptable as well. Mother Shor is…impressive. And she makes herself a spectacle on purpose, to distract those who negotiate with the court and to test their concentration. She also causes many to underestimate her, by flaunting she may set the unwary to think her body is all there is to her."

  Geyrt frowned pointedly, "If I must explain to you that this is a mistake, I would be disappointed in you Glade Chief, Shor is the most deep thinking of my Father's wives, it was why he sealed their alliance through marriage. Well," she scoffed, "Most of the reason."

  It appears she had noticed her father's smug glances towards Ulric as well.

  He wondered if it made things better or worse for himself that all of these people sort of made him nervous. Like walking across a frozen lake when you didn't quite know how thick the ice was. Beautiful the lake might be, but a guy could get killed if he weren't ultimately careful where he put his feet.

  "Anyway! If one invites gazes, they cannot claim insult when they receive them. I have witnessed this bizarre thing in some of the Otherkin frequented places within Orlethrem, particularly amongst the trading villages along the Zelas. A human man dressed with pants cut to show his legs and a short coat pretends offense when you mention the curve of his rump. It makes no sense." She finished, perplexed, and being genuine in a comfortable manner he had not experienced around the sharp edged once princess.

  As he digested that, Ulric turned his attention to the rest of the room. Pools littered with beautiful people and all of them without a stitch. And none of them looking the slightest shy about it. Maybe it was like those nudist colonies he'd heard about. When the sight of bare skin was normalized it lost much of its allure. The forbidden fruit lay on the table, not so tempting as half hidden in the leaves. An interesting concept. He had to admit, he had detected some gazes on his own body, particularly when he'd approached the pool. There was nothing malicious about any of it, whistling to spook him aside. You existed and so you were noticed. Some looks were more approving than others. No big deal. He couldn't tell if his perspective had been warped by the frankly bigger concerns, like being eaten alive, that Varda provided aplenty.

  Well, when in Rome. He turned his attention back to Geyrt, making sure he kept a respectful focus.

  "Thank you for this lesson. The baths are a lovely experience and it feels good to know I'm not going to upset anybody if a ten out of ten waltzes through and my concentration lapses while I ogle them for a second. " He said sincere in his gratitude.

  Let his eyes roam again through the bath, across its stones, its immaculately carved wood, and, of course, the artwork that was the people that occupied it.

  "I spoke of it with your brother while we awaited his recovery, but your people are all far more...healthy, more absent of deficiency and physically beautiful than those of my old world. The Watcher said that my old world had no Watcher of its own and therefore there was none to guide the growth and evolution of its life. It spoke of something called the Progenitor code, I think it was talking about DNA, the genetic code, and my world's life forms were all more unoptimized thanks to the inherent randomization of genetic variance and evolutionary processes. I'm not going to lie to you, you people are all built better, like the very pinnacle of attractiveness and fitness compared to my old life. Even the Humans I had to kill back in the glade were stronger and more free from flaw than anybody I'd ever met in my old life." Ulric explained, noting that her attention was rapt when he mentioned the Watcher.

  “Dee-Inn-Aye? What is this? You are using familiar words in context that is nonsensical, Glade Chief. Is this a joke of some Valin kind?” The perplexed woman asked, eyberows scrunched as if trying to decipher a riddle.

  For a few moments, he considered how to explain modern Earth biology, before he realized that it was kind of irrelevant. Amongst things he knew to be true, the rules of heredity and selection did not function upon Varda as it did on Earth. On this matter there was as much difference between those realities as between the presence of magic and the lack.

  "Who is this watcher you mention? This is not the first time I think I have heard you mention it." Geyrt asked, stirring him from that tangent.

  "It's the thing that brought me here. The thing that remade me, I guess. Looked like an impossibly pretty Human but, I dunno, alien. Too perfect, too...ummm...I don't know how to explain it. It was Impossible. Anyway, it spoke to me for a minute before it abandoned me to the wild on the Plateau."

  "The Eternal Gaze. You spoke to the Eternal Gaze, the being that observes all of creation." Geyrt said, not quite disbelieving.

  "Yeah," Ulric nodded, "I think it did say something along those lines. So...a god?" Ulric asked.

  The Elf shook her head gently, sending ripples of steaming water as her hair disturbed the surface.

  "No, Ulric Glade Chief, not a god. There are many ascended creatures, beings of vast power, implacable will, and who interact with the world at a level deeper than the more ephemeral mortals such as the Aes'r, the Valin, Svartalfin, and Jormun. Even elementals are not so interwoven into the fabric of Varda as the gods.” Summarized his Shadow-lady, outlining something a child would know with surprising patience.

  “No, the gods are mysterious, but they are very much involved in the affairs of the world and its peoples. They can be spoken to and, occasionally, when circumstances are right, can be heard in return. If you wish to risk being consumed whole by brushing against such implacable wills. The Eternal Gaze says nothing, sees all, and its only intervention is in the cult of its Soul Inquisitors. A secretive cult of mages who root out the practice of Soul mutilation using the power to see Souls and their connection to the Akashic record at will. It could undo Varda if it wished, but it only uses its power to observe the unfolding of Fate and to keep the demons hiding in the River Time from appearing. I had not though it possible to speak with the Eternal Gaze." Geyrt instructed, dropping on Ulric a whole pile of metaphysical nonsense to work his way through later.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Soul magic? Inquisitors? And what was that about demons? He didn’t plan on having anything to do with any of that.

  Geyrt appeared relatively unsure what to think about that.

  Well, she wasn't the only one. Ulric didn't exactly buy what the existence had told him either. Not that it had said anything false, but even a dim light like Ulric knew when he hadn't been told the whole truth. Maybe his brain would have exploded if it had tried to tell him how things really were.

  Huh. Well, that was interesting. Here he'd been sort of convinced the Watcher was maybe capital G god. Maybe not, but not real damned far off from it. But there were little g gods aplenty. He wondered how that came about? He bookmarked that thought for later. For now, it was something of a load off his back, knowing that he wasn't going to get himself in trouble with the Elves, their social conventions were, more or less, normal.

  Kind of.

  Maybe a little more direct and less forgiving of outright insults. Maybe a lot more potentially murdery, he'd have to wait and see.

  He truly had been concerned that there were cultural landmines to step on with a Human in the Elven baths. And, now that he'd experienced the wonder that was this room full of thermally ideal water and relaxing heat-soaked stones, he did not want to be forced to forego their luxury simply because he was too awkward to navigate Elf social norms about nudity. With any luck they’d gotten the hazing out of their systems so he could expect more peace in the future.

  If only he didn't have Geyrt waiting for him to close his eyes before she ambushed him with a non sequitur. It was on purpose, he was sure of it.

  Speaking of the woman, she had a slight tilt to her head. Now she seemed curious.

  "You have done this thing again, using words in a way that does not have meaning. For instance, what does it mean to count to ten and then again, I have heard you say this before?" She asked.

  Now he chuckled a little. Reminded of the endless number of gaps in their experiences. Briefly, his thoughts spilled backwards to recall some of the talks he'd had with his few friends over beers trying to lay out the precise specifications for each number in the system. They had never been able to fully define the grand scale though they had tried many nights, including attempting to fit themselves into it. If Ulric recalled he'd rated a seven out of ten but only if he kept his mouth shut, talking, that dropped him to a six pretty fast.

  "The phrase is an idiom, a very specific linguistic usage that does not have a strict definition in the Akashic species language because it relies on the conditions or information held only by a certain social group for its meaning. I am afraid that my language in my old life was heavily idiomatic which means it's basically nonsense to you. And there's nothing I can do about it, these usages are hard wired into my brain. If I stopped using them, I would sound like a textbook." Ulric explained.

  He had heard Elven idioms although not as many as he would expect. Then again, perhaps that was why he wasn't able to follow certain parts of conversations, they were using words he wasn't expecting in places he wasn't expecting and it disrupted his limited comprehension. His hosts had done a remarkable favor to him by speaking human, rather than Elvish. He decided that he would have to make a better effort to reciprocate. No time like the present.

  "Let me explain, as I can. This way of saying is to rank persons of attractiveness on a scale of one being…ugly and uninteresting to a ten a flawless beauty of captivating. Then a ten out of ten is a peerless sexy one to your senses. This is a…crudely objective…way to refer to others, but it is mostly a way to very shortly summarize one's thoughts on their attractiveness, amongst peers with understanding that such is not intended to be directed toward that one to make them uncomfortable." Ulric said slowly, working his way through is poor Elvish.

  Geyrt seemed a little surprised. She leaned forward from her relaxed recline making Ulric's life harder. He was determined to get used to her though. Her graceful features, and almond shaped eyes, glittering emeralds inset with bronze shards, held his eyes as effectively as a vice.

  "You speak better than I remember. You have practiced? It is well you have done this, many would use this as a way to speak around you. As your Shadow I must advise that you do not spread intentionally your ability to speak our tongue. Your perceived inability to understand Elvish could be a tool, allowing you to listen where others think they will not be overheard. Fear not that you go misunderstood should you use your native language, most of the seasoned Hunters and warriors of Iriel have lived long enough at duties along the borders to have learned Human well enough to get by." She advised doing her duty to see to his interests.

  Ulric kept his voice low.

  "I only recently started to get a feel for your language. Like a song I had to hear a hundred times to recognize its melody. Once that I did it was much easier to follow. But when you use your own odd phrases I cannot grasp you. Likewise if you speak too quickly I cannot grasp you. Slow like this is ok."

  She nodded before settling back into her resting position.

  "It is good enough. We will work on this. Then to be ten out of ten is to be attractive in the utmost yes?" The intense woman asked casually.

  "This is so." Ulric confirmed.

  "And you find me to be this ten out of ten?" She asked point blank.

  "This is so." He reaffirmed without detail.

  "Good. Then at least you are not blind…You are a seven." His Shadow declared a rare smile finding its way to her face as she closed her eyes and relaxed.

  What could he say to that? Nothing Ulric decided. Nothing was best and he also settled back to soak.

  The rest of their bath was held in blissful silence.

  Eventually Ulric felt like he'd soaked the last remaining bits of hangover out and was, for the first time in ages, truly clean. As he dressed, it occurred to him that he really needed to obtain something more casual than a lorica and the heavy leather and fur number in which he had defaulted to travel the wood.

  Not that he had any complaints about the protective value of the armor. It was just a little bit of overkill for casual day wear when nothing was going to hop out of the flower pots to consume him. Probably.

  Upon reaching their apartment, which Geyrt entered first, a pattern Ulric supposed he was going to have to get used to, they found their small in table loaded with a tray of food, covered by a set of nested wooden bowls. It seems that supper had been served. A roasted fowl of some sort, various steamed vegetables, and bread loaf. Ulric soaked his loaf in the pooled juices of the roasted bird thing and, once again, gave thanks to the comforts of civilization. The meal was taken in silence, as was customary. It was wonderful. The entire evening had been fantastic.

  He got to learn a little about the Iriels and establish a solidly positive foundation for their interaction towards the future, he’d discovered the wonder that was the baths, and he’d been able to reach some sort of rapport with his brand-new odd person.

  As uncomfortable as the notion was, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? Optimism without reason had never been his schtick so he tempered that by remembering clearly the woman’s hard-edged defensiveness and the relatively low regard in which she seemed to hold Otherkin. Yeah, okay, that fixed his optimism pretty easily. No easy roads for Ulric on this one, he’d have to continue to make efforts to convince his elf shaped manacles not to strangle him while he wasn’t looking.

  There was something peaceful about the Iriel’en convention of a silent meal, he was able to appreciate the odd spices, the gamey, rich bird meat, and the fluffy but savory bread. Whatever the grain used was it was packed with flavor, maybe some kind of rye or nut-based flour.

  After consolidating the meal in his stomach, he sat looking at an empty plate and the sudden realization hit him that he had no goddamn clue what to do with it.

  There were no sinks. No running water of which he was aware. What the hell did he do with these dishes? What about the bathroom, was it a hole in the bottom of the tree? A ceremonial pot? He didn’t need to go very often at all but it occurred to him that this meal would prompt a change in that situation. Free of the incredible pressure he’d been under to Not Fuck This Up, and concentrating on staying alive amongst the potentially dangerous natives, his mind was suddenly able to turn to the more mundane, the myriad small facets of life around him and he realized he had no goddamn clue about any of it.

  Anxiety, a facet of his old existence that had dwindled to near nothing here came back with a vengeance. He was a tourist in a foreign land. No, worse, he was as a child. Half of what he knew about how to live was predicated on electricity. In the glade it didn’t matter, he had what he needed, with too much to do to worry about much else, and no worry about adhering to the rules of a society of one. Even when Brighteyes had come along, it was fine, there was just the two of them and the kid was perceptive enough to be able to keep himself out of the way, to adjust to Ulric’s rhythm, not the other way around.

  Just like that the buoyant mood he'd had dissipated. He suddenly very much wished he were back in the glade.

  He hated this feeling. This pervasive reality of being a moron who didn't have a single clue what was going on around him, dependent on others to hold his hand through the most basic aspects of civilization.

  In the glade, yes, he'd been living the life of a virtual savage. But the rules were clear, he knew exactly what was expected of him, and he had no worry about how to handle basically any situation that had been before him. It had been harsh, and, he had to admit, lonely. Even for him. But it had been simple and without ambiguity, bizarrely peaceful. Now he had all the capability of a child.

  Ulric frowned at that last thought. Less than that. Children probably knew where to put their damned dishes after a meal.

  Ever since he'd come to Iriel he'd been thrown into one situation after another that made his decisions not just life or death, they had the potential to dictate aspects of the rest of his life. If he'd fucked up with the initial meeting with Bald'rt he could well have found himself unwelcome amongst the Elves, if not outright dead. If he'd been slower on the uptake, he might have been pushed into agreements he didn't want to make or obligations he didn't have the faculty to meet. He was trying to establish a trade agreement for shit's sake. Cultural norms he didn’t understand out the wahzoo. Social cues that were way over his head. And the worst part was that the majority of the people he met were far, far more experienced than he by a matter of decades, which meant he’d mostly always be behind the curve.

  It had taken him some thirty years to feel like he had his act together by in the Before, and here he was surrounded by people just casually a century, or three, old. Hell, the child he'd come to know was, in many respects, as capable as many adults in his previous life, while he had, so far as he could see, regressed to the status of a talented neanderthal himself. Barely speaking the language. Illiterate. Ignorant. In the deep part of the pool, just struggling to tread water.

  He didn't dislike this place. He didn't dislike the company. He had, in fact, rather come to like the Elves as a people. It's just that he was now being forced to try to do a dance whose steps he didn't know to a tune he had never heard. He was clumsy, slow, and everybody knew it. Sucks to suck. And then there was that other thing.

  Ulric ran a hand over his face while his thoughts whirled. Maybe he was just over thinking things. Maybe this was just a decompressive stress response to suddenly being, well, safe. Probably one small part of it. But not all. No, being a fool was one thing, he didn't like it, but he'd accept it as the cost of admittance to the integration process of meeting new civilizations. What still, really, bothered him, as an added bonus to the rest, was that he still didn't know why he was getting these intensely aggressive impulses towards people he perceived as, in damn near any way, threatening. Any time he was stressed by even the hint of someone making themselves an enemy, there was this drive in his mind. A pressure. What he was starting to think of as the Call. A Call to violence.

  The first time was the Forest Lord. He had charged the damned thing. Never mind it was the correct thing to do, it was insane is what it was. Then there had been the Marauders or Poachers or whatever, and, while that was justified on a number of levels, it was still slightly out of character, even if Ulric admitted that he might have been prone to violent tendencies always and merely heavily conditioned to channel such energy into positive directions.

  A darkly humored chuckle escaped him at that reflection, that’s just humanity in a fucking nutshell is what that is, nothing odd there, perhaps, except the rapidity of the turn. He'd gone from excited to see people to almost casually murdering them in less than the time to drink a cup of coffee. The monkeys? That had damn near been fun, in a roller coaster dropped your legs from under sort of way. Lastly, there was this woman next to him.

  He'd been just a whisker away from trying to burn her to death. He'd taken great joy in electrocuting her into near unconsciousness, and, only up until the last day or so not at least vaguely considered how he was going to kill her if he needed to. It was some scary shit is what it was.

  Ulric was normally pretty good at stuffing things he didn't have any way of approaching into a little box in his head and kicking it into a dark place to never be seen again. That wasn't working as well these days. Too much he just wanted to drag the problem into the light and strangle it if it wouldn't behave. It had all been a little much these last couple of days.

  "Fuck it." he whispered.

  Time to recenter. What he was capable of doing, he was doing. He had not, in fact, fucked up his talks with the Iriel'en and their leaders. He had, for the most part, done the opposite and seemingly left a good impression. He had not been forced to kill anybody. Nobody who didn’t deserve it, anyway. Things were, not just fine, they were great. As well as could be expected anyway. And the godsdamned plate could sit there until the heat death of the universe for all he cared.

  No, Ulric had an inspiration, scowling at the source of his lost peace. He had a better idea for it.

  You know what? He was going to go blow something up.

  Standing, Ulric grabbed the plate and made for the balcony.

  Opening the window, he felt the gusting howls of wind blowing into the room, cold air surging around him. Its bitterness made him feel good. Feel alive.

  Mana thrummed inside him as he willed his core to purpose. Tuning to Ceraun he forced the mana to split into two halves each turning towards the other in a cycle unending. He felt the power of the working gathering. The image of what he wanted to do meshed with his intent for how to do it driven by his will to see this thing done.

  Static discharges leapt out randomly, and he frowned, taking hold of the magic more firmly until they stopped. Last time, he’d gone in with only a rough plan. This time though, he had a system. He’d learned a lesson from his previous failure, had properly considered the consequences of building a breakdown and of guiding it towards a destination. He focused mana into the carved wood, keying it, making it a part of the spiraling charges, stripping the yin from its nature to guide the yang to his target. The rest of the Thaumaturgy was as before, the process of preparing the arc already worked out.

  It was ready. He could feel it. The air was rippling with its potential.

  Ulric threw the plate like a vertical discus and raise his hand, his core forming the bridge between his held power, half the question, the source, and the wooden disk the answer, a sink, with the flow of energy clear in his mind.

  He released his hold on the mana and blue white ribbons of Ceraun crackled around a jagged bolt that streaked towards the plate, evaporating it. Thunder boomed washing over his body. Ecstasy.

  *PING*

  [Lightning Strike]**Override**[Lightning Javelin]

  It worked, and Ulric wasn’t even surprised. It worked because it had to, the laws that governed the world, even with Varda’s weird addendums, demanded as much.

  With this, he had a way to target lightning, on the fly, exactly where he wanted. And the plate was no more. He was not ashamed to admit that he was in a far better mood.

  "What have you done?" Geyrt delivered a husky, hushed whispered in his ear.

  He jumped, flinching back from the sudden imposition in his space.

  He had not heard her approach and, somehow, she had managed to be almost on top of him without him noticing.

  "Watcher's tits lady! You trying to scare me into falling off this balcony?!" He yelled.

  "Do not yell at me, I was concerned! You were the one muttering to yourself and making fidgity hands! Then you suddenly open the window as Winter's Herald approaches and call a Skylance to the room! You are worms in head!" She yelled back, stepping back, glaring.

  She was right. It was not, strictly speaking, the clearest headed decision he'd ever made. But it needed to be done. And he'd only yelled because she was a ninja. Even so, it was rude to yell at her.

  "Alright, alright, I am sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. But you shouldn't sneak up on me like that, I've got, uh, issues." Ulric said, hands raised in surrender.

  Another gust of wind sent the cover of the trays to the floor, whatever Brownie magic that was employed to block the normal movement of air when the window was closed given permission, now that it was opened, and that bitter gust prompted Ulric to shove the balcony doors back closed.

  "…I will accept this.” Geyrt replied, her glare lightening by millimeters, and, after another second, almost pulled from her, she offered the same courtesy, “I should not have startled you, I did not think you would scare that easily. That does not answer my question, what did you do?"

  He didn't answer immediately, thinking instead about how to explain. And he made a point to ignore her near insult, she probably hadn't meant it as such and that was, in its own way, worse. Should he start with electric potentials, or with how Ceraun felt like it was inclined to always move in loops?

  When she opened her mouth to complain, he shut her down, because asking someone a question and then rushing them when they tried to give a proper answer was exceedingly rude.

  "Can you shut your gob for, like, five seconds lady? I'm thinking over here." He bit out,

  You'd think somebody who still had seven or eight hundred years in the tank wouldn't be so friggin hasty. At least she settled back to wait for him to answer. Didn't do anything about that look though. He ignored her and picked up the tray cover, returning it to its place.

  "Ok. Do you want the long version or the short version?" He asked, after a few more moments, ready to try to have a thoughtful conversation.

  "The short one, how did you touch a Skylance? You should not be able to do that." She said angrily.

  Why the hell was she so touchy? He wondered.

  Instead of dwelling on her tone, he simply gave her what she wanted. See, Bald’rt thorn in my ass? I am Trying over here.

  "I just focused Ceraun to gather electric potentials by separating the inflections of charge within my own body. I figured it out a, was it really only a week ago we set out? So…a couple of weeks ago now. The first version was a little rough though. The breakdown potential of air changes due to many factors, but most important was distance to the contact point. The spell was so hard to control before, I nearly lost it and had to send it to a stone by carving a path of least resistance with a separate streamer of Ceraun to give it a definite location, a least resistance before it discharged on me. That did not go how I wanted it to. So, I thought out a modification that would let me build the path while I charged the spell linking the latent discharge with an object I could throw. The object would act as the target, with the discharge linked between them explicitly, and I can just throw it at whatever I want to hit with the lightning, as if it were tuned to a specific spark gap. The net power that is lost will change with the distance to target, but nothing particularly on the caster’s end. Easy peasey."

  Geyrt had gone from irascible to completely baffled in only a few moments. By the end, she had that same look the kids in his lecture room had when he was presenting research during grad school to the visiting freshmen. Totally glazed over. The more things change the more they stay the same.

  "And why shouldn't I be able to do it? That's, like, the easiest thing you can do with electricity. Just build a charge and release it, capacitor plates are basic bitch stuff. It's not like I made a spell to do electromagnetic ore sampling. Or radar. Or…hell…about a million things really. Wait…I can make a railgun! Ulric realized, suppressing a fist pump.

  The more he thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. He’d have to work out the spell constraints, the exact pattern of electromagnetic oscillation to create a magnetic accelerator, maybe even find someone to craft coils until he could master a purely mana-based field, but it was doable

  “Hahaha! I AM a weapon to surpass metal gear!" Ulric cackled.

  "What? What are you saying? Are you playing games with me again? Just tell me how you managed to use a Skylance, and from your hand instead of the…sky." The dark beauty asked, clearly lost, and getting mad about it.

  This was the rub then. Ulric knew a ton of things that he shouldn't, compared to the run of the mill peoples roaming the land. What he lacked in what might be referred to as "common sense" he made up for in spades in esoteric knowledge of the nature of matter and the energies that drove it. Aside from that pesky little wrinkle where a core'd creature could manifest magic that turned most of that shit on its head, if not ignoring it completely.

  For one, cores could generate matter from mana. He knew, he'd done it. It took a lot, and he meant A LOT, of mana to do it, but you could. That should have been impossible but he had not pulled the water for his water jet from the air against Taipan, now Geyrt, he had manifested it from pure mana. He very deliberately did not think any more about that than he had to.

  "Ok, calm down Ms. Fussypants, there's no need to get upset. Tell you what, let's just sit down, have a cup of juice, and I'll give you the long version. That might help you follow along. I'll start from the beginning and you can ask me when you have questions, that sound alright?" He asked, purely reasonably.

  "My pants are fine, there is nothing fussy about them, whatever this fussy is. And I am not upset." She said voice rising.

  Ulric had to stomp down hard on his instinct to just absolutely string this poor girl along. He was getting some real strong "Who's on First?" vibes. But no, resist the urge. You are Trying to Get Along. What it came down to was, they were incompatible people. She was irritable, serious to a fault, arrogant, and, so far as he could tell, without humor. He was distant, sarcastic, impatient, and enjoyed getting a rise out of people, especially at their expense. It would take serious effort on his part to avoid ruffling this hawk's feathers.

  Instead of making things worse, he went over to the table and filled two wooden mugs with juice from a likewise wooden pitcher. As much as he loved their commitment to the aesthetic, he was going to have to introduce these lovely folk to ceramics. The cups full he sat at the table and gestured to the empty chair across.

  He would have bet a small fortune that the first time she opened her mouth, it was to insist she would rather stand. Whatever thoughts were rolling around behind those lovely veridian orbs he was sure he'd never know, but they eventually led her to stalk over and take the indicated seat at the table. Gods she even drinks angrily, he thought.

  "Now then. Before I start, let me get some idea of why you think I should not be able to do what I have very definitely done. Please explain to me Geyrt, why is this lightning bolt, this Skylance, a problem?" Ulric requested in his most calm, low, even tone.

  She shook her head slightly, braided midnight hair swinging. He heard the wooden ring at its end tap the table. Meeting his eyes with hers she said, with no obvious maliciousness,

  "Because you are too weak. You are too young to do this thing. Ceraun is one of the most difficult magics to control and those who do it well always say the same thing: never join the flow. The spell must not be in contact with you or it will move through you, the mana scouring your body with its flow. Even if you were strong enough to call a Skylance, you should not have been able to hold it, it must be summoned from the air."

  Ulric didn't take offense at that. Compared to these people he was barely more than a boy after all. This Elven woman before him, despite the flush of youth in her features, was triple his age, by her brother’s claims, which had proven accurate elsewhere. And, he had to admit, compared to their mages he probably was weak. But Bald'rt had said something about his core having, what was it again?

  Right. He'd said Ulric's core had tier III features. Probably a way to descriptively rank folks, progression, inspired by the similar ranks on Thaumaturgy in his Status. It was likely that he was a freak. Not an accident, either.

  More like a creature designed, purposefully, to be more potent than he should have been. That Watcher hadn't just done this out of some sense of…fairness, pity, whatever. Ulric was far too much the cynic to buy that. There was another reason. It might not even have been a complex one. Maybe the only reason he'd been reforged was so the Impossible could enjoy the show. He wouldn't object to that, if it gave him this second chance. In fact, he hoped to provide a great deal of entertainment for a long, long time.

  Turning his thoughts to her description of how magic was controlled he found himself finding the first tangible evidence of their lack of sophistication. It was clear that magic was sort of boosting civilization. Lifting it above what it would be otherwise, since they could achieve through magic what could have only been possible through technology. Technology that would have mandated understanding of certain facets of physical theory.

  Such as this fallacy that you cannot join the flow of electricity. There was nothing wrong with being part of the flow, you just couldn't be the sink, the ground. He knew this first hand, had had it burned into his body. Always you gave the current a ground, a path to deliver its energies away. So long as that was true, many mistakes were forgiven. You risked burning the circuit if you pushed the voltage too high but that's what overvoltage "crowbars" were good for, you just collect the runoff energy and open the line to failsafe. Matter of fact…maybe there were mana analogues to this. He was definitely creating some sort of circuit, and casting magic was very like programming the circuit with a logic. Analogous and almost metaphorical though it might be, there was a definitive flow to what he was doing that was similar to electrical engineering concepts. Not now, though, bookmark that thought.

  Ruminations paused Ulric decided how he was going to reply.

  "Your spellcasters don't know what they're doing." Ulric said bluntly.

  Well, he'd never claimed to be subtle. Or nice.

  "It is likely that they are extremely well practiced within the framework of their knowledge, they are masters of their art. I would bet that they know exactly what they want to do, and they have the strength to do it, but they don't know why or how it works, from a certain perspective. They’ve experimentally solved their problems, employed a bunch of workarounds to prevent the spells from failing, backfiring, or creating unintended effects. That's why some things are so much harder than they should be and why they have limits that don't really exist at a theoretical level." He finished.

  Geyrt looked like he'd slapped her. Her eyes widened and her lips thinned. Apparently, she took the failings of her kin personally. What else was new?

  "I knew you were worms in head but I did not know you were also a complete fool. How can you say such a thing? You are barely even matured and you know better than masters of the manacraft?" She scolded.

  Instead of replying to her he folded his hands together, as if in prayer, reaching for his core.

  [Voltaic Grip]

  Arcs surged between his hands as he spread them apart, cupping the dancing, winding, rising, and forking Ceraun. Even farther he spread them apart, until his arms were extended fully, a ribbon of lightning arcing like a rainbow over his head, crackling, between his palms. He was applying the same concepts he'd used to create his lightning strike, and, was deliberately altering the flow to be centered within his body, not pulling on the charges from the air. His hands were as capacitor plates and he could vary the flow to keep the arc jumping, that was a matter of sheer potential, raw magical strength.

  Internalizing the current this way was much more efficient, there was far less resistance as his magic used his own mana channels to carry the energy. Ulric knew that he could gather charge from the air, instead of generating it, and that could let him build a discharge between two external points but that was far more power intensive, it took much more mana to reach out like that, like he’d have to create two webs of magic to keep the two charge generating spells separate, or else have to create a truly massive one at one end and hope he could direct the resulting discharge.

  That way was sloppy, was hard to control, was gross overkill.

  His internal magic, he felt like he could hold this for half an hour and release it as needed. And, as the buzzing power rolled through his mana channels, he could see Geyrt's dark skin pale.

  Never contact the flow? Laughable. He wasn't just touching it, like he had before, he was part of it. And he wasn't afraid because it wasn't some force he merely created and released; it was of himself. He could sooner choke on his own breath.

  Ulric rode the wave, letting his instincts carry him along, and the theory guide the flow. He closed his hands into fists and pulled the arcing energy completely into his body to circulate through his mana channels. It felt painful, there are limits to containing that much energy, until he willed a layer of mana through them, like insulation, or, no, more like a laminar flow. Now he held it completely. He let his arms fall and leaned forward to cup his chin with one hand, elbows resting on the table and looked into Geyrt's eyes.

  If that last thing spooked her, she was purely going to shit.

  The other hand reached up to hover a half meter above the table and Ulric smiled before he loosed the energy, giving it the outlet it craved. A thumb thick violet arc leapt to the table top and danced, carving blackened char along its path.

  *PING*

  *PING*

  [Voltaic Grip] override [Voltaic Pulse] override [Voltaic Riot]

  He cut off the spell, felt his core stop heaving at the charge in the room. Interesting. It would appear that greater understanding led to greater power. And the spell…it evolved? Twice. That was something. His examination was cut off by Geyrt standing suddenly from the table. She looked like she'd swallowed salt water.

  "What are you? No lies." She asked nervously.

  Now that was hurtful. She should know better than anyone. She'd seen his status, if Brighteyes was correct about her consistently using [Scan] on her targets. It didn't help that she was asking the same question that had been echoing in the back of his head for weeks now. Human only in name Bald'rt had said. What am I? He suspected that he was going to spend the rest of his life answering that question.

  "I am Ulric Einar, a once materials engineer now Twice Born, I’m the Forest Lord Bane, and, somehow, [Lord of the Ancient Glade]. And I am hopelessly lost so far as anything else is concerned, like a raft in the ocean." He said earnestly.

  "And I would very much appreciate it if you would stop calling me crazy. There's a part of me that thinks I'll someday wake up back in my old world finding this whole thing was a fever dream. But I don't think so. You'll have to accept that I am not a thing of this world, not entirely, and that gives me perspectives that you do not have. That doesn't mean I'm crazy. There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Ulric quoted at her, humor in his voice.

  His core was close to empty. He'd pushed his system hard, trying to follow the inspiration of the moment to its conclusion, especially when he'd pulled the Ceraun to run through his mana channels directly. But he felt like he'd grown more in tune with how his body integrated with his core. He felt good.

  As an additional bonus, some of the…pressure…the gnawing unease on his mind was gone. Taking a little more control of something, even if only his own mana, was enough to get his psyche back on track. There was a weakness in an overactive mind in that it could eat itself if not looked after. Varda wasn’t exactly all roses out there and he had worries aplenty to set the wheels spinning, if he didn’t stay on top of himself. A new body, a young man’s burgeoning impulses and drives, a core with its own novel manifestations within him, these were all going to take longer than the mere few months of desperate living he’d had to adjust to them.