Chapter 14: Chap. 12 : Dreams and Nightmares

Meanwhile, after Zoemie was done with the three adventurers, she returned to her room and changed to her normal clothes, before sighing in defeat. She was exhausted. "God. Fucking. DAMMIT." What now ?

She checked the time. It was 5:30 PM, now, late-afternoon. Dealing with the three fuckers hadn't been that long on its face, but it took a lot out of her. She looked at her computer. Maybe there was something she could play ?

She looked, trying to find with no success something to take her mind off. She didn't want to have to think about all that implied, about the fact she already had been found despite her best efforts. It enraged and depressed her in equal amounts.

Zoemie, annoyed and frustrated, shook her head and decided to focus on something slightly more useful. Let's take a look at the loot from the bandits. She as such teleported into the storage room, breathing in the slightly damp basement smell. It was a smell she enjoyed, soothing her a little.

The loot was here, clothing in small piles, weaponry hanging from wall racks and supplies on the shelf. Zoemie frankly found it... a little depressing. "How many people have they hurt and mauled for... that ?", she said, holding up the Wraith's steel chainmail by the shoulders.

It was good-quality chainmail, yes, made of decent steel by a craftsman. But it was not exceptional, or even great, closest to generic chainmail granted to waged soldiers in skirmishes, too expensive for levied men and too cheap for proper knights. Looted it during a raid, Zoemie suspected.

But the weakness of the enchantments in particular was notable, applying an important ceiling to how much damage the armor could take. Zoemie's equipment was at least as important to her power as her Warden abilities if not moreso, and their self-regenerating nature removed the need for upkeep and maintenance. Zoemie was mostly unaware of this, however.

The chainmail, by comparison, had been damaged a few times, impurities and imprefections in the steel rings speaking of its past. "He raided, injured, burned, maimed, killed, raped, looted and whatever other horrifying shit he's done... to countless people... and that's what he's got to show for it. A busted mail I can conjure a million of." Zoemie sighed. "That's fucking pathetic."

The rest of the equipment was of at best similar quality to the mail, worn out and damaged, with weak enchantments, at least by Zoemie's standards. Only a few of the men had fully metallic armor like the Wraith, but many of the other outfits had metal reinforcements, of either bronze or mediocre steel.

The weaponry, meanwhile, were mostly steel polearms, alongside knives for throwing. Spears, mostly, but also a poleaxe and a warscythe. These had been forged by a smith, but many of them were worn out. To compensate, the Wraith and his men had poisoned and enchanted the weapon's tips, with the exception of a bundle of specific knives wrapped in a rag. Used for cutting food, I guess.

Speaking of food... The men's food supplies were mostly dried and salted meat and other long-lasting provisions such as beans. The less enduring foodstuffs were primarily rye bread, as well as foraged fruits. "They didn't eat very well." Zoemie mumbled, before looking at the bandits' beds, which were mostly pile of leaves and sometime a rag. "Can't be nice to sleep on".

Their tents were thin and patchy, to boot. Zoemie considered it all a bit, before rambling to no one in particular. "They... didn't have a very comfortable life. Constantly on the run, with weapons and armors falling apart, meh food and unpleasant sleeping conditions."

She breathed in and continued. "And yet none of them even considered a career change. Whatever they were getting out of their raiding lifestyle outweighed enough of the unpleasant parts. What... what kind of person is OK with this kinda deal ? What kind of person can accept all of this... just for short opportunities to... commit fucking war crimes ?"

"If I spared them they wouldn't have stopped. If some of them wanted to get out, they did so before I was in the picture. Would a guy like him allow them to leave, anyways ?" Zoemie asked herself, crossing her arms. "Seemed like the fucker was good at running and ambushing. So on one hand, it meant witnesses were bad, but he at the same time risked less from dudes running off."

Zoemie considered further. "Their equipment isn't built for melee brawling against dudes in good armor. But I can guess these dudes in armor just ain't as fast as him, which at least explains why sticking to such light travelling equipment. He targeted the weaker and ran off when outmatched.", a realization that disgusted Zoemie. What a fucking bastard.

Zoemie here failed to realize just how much heavy armor, particularly when magicked up, could allow one to do against poorly-armed bandits. There was a reason knights served as royalty's trump card. A single knight with good weapon, armor, training, and enough food could easily handle gaggles of weak brigands, and an order of them could slaughter any militia or levied army with minimal losses.

That said, the Wraith wasn't a weak brigand, but an experienced highwayman, and it showed in his equipment – most bandits didn't even have any men in metal armor whatsoever. That he could have multiple spoke of his threat level.

Zoemie kept looking at the equipment, something catching her attention. "Huh." Zoemie looked at the magical orb. "So that's what they used to keep the monsters away." she deducted from the enchantments on the orb. It was kind of weak, but sufficient for the forest monsters – although interestingly enough if Zoemie did summon monsters, these could've overpowered the orb's effects. Not that she cared.

Zoemie stared at the equipment some more, breaking out of her reverie after a while. The black-haired girl shook her head, and decided to teleport again to her room, lying down on her bed and thinking about what to do or play next. But out of exhaustion, she instead fell asleep into a nap.

---

Zoemie dreamed – she thought. Maybe. She was not sure. It was back... before. Or was it ? That was new, or at any rate felt new. She was watching from high in the sky, or at least, above, a buzzcutted man in blue talking in a device. A policeman ?

There were more of them, black-and-white cars swarming around the schoolgate. Wait ? Yes. This was the high school where Zoemie was studying before. A place she did not miss, and could rot for all she cared. Except Neth. Neth was good.

"This kinda thing doesn't happen in this country...." someone said. Zoemie wasn't sure who, she didn't recognize the voice. She wasn't even sure whether a man or woman spoke, or if it came from above or below her. The voice spoke with sorrowful shock, as if something terrible had happened.

"First a class of kids go missing with no evidence, now... this..." the voice continued, unsure and lacking confidence. "I don't think public high schools in this country typically get closed, but..." it continued, faltering.

And at these words, everything froze, the dream turning into black-and-white. Another voice talked, mechanical, video game voice grunting made from a rewinding clock's noises, whirring itself into a calm, collected, robotic text-to-speech program's voice.

"hatred dies u n b o r n

 

egoistic, secret t r u t h

given to soothe self

 

a spiral choked out

with knowledge came peace"

What ?

---

Zoemie woke up, confused, tired and very frustrated. "More fucking nightmares." What bullshit. She sighed, and, with an herculean effort, threw off the blanket and got up. She shook her head and tried to focus, before hearing heavy footsteps in the corridor. Someone knocked on the door. "Yeah, I'm here."

The black-haired teenage girl turned to face the Xajymzia. "Is everything alright ?", the maid asked with worry in her voice. "It's almost 9:30 PM. I was starting to get concerned." she continued. 9:30 PM. That's... like... 3 hours ? Damn. Zoemie shook her head, trying to focus, and started talking.

"Uh... buuh... Fell asleep, I think, yeah. Had a really creepy and unpleasant nightmare." Zoemie started to explain to the maid, who had sat down on the old swivel chair. "I was back at the school, kinda, I guess, and there were people talking, and something seemed to have happened, and...".

Zoemie took a breath and continued. "They were talking about closing the school... But... So. Some really creepy robot voice said some really cryptic shit and then I woke up." Zoemie said. "And from what little I got of it, I get the feeling of none of what I dreamed of actually happened."

"For best or ill ?" asked Xajymzia out of curiosity, cocking her head to the side and spinning the chair around, Zoemie gathering her thoughts and continuing to talk after a short while, still uncertain.

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"Not sure... Like, on one hand, you know, fuck this place. It can fucking rot for all I care. But if nothing happened, it means Neth should be OK. Whereas if... whatever I dreamed of did happen, it's a whole lot... dicier, yannow ?"

Xajymzia nodded thoughtfully as Zoemie rambled, before a stomach growl interrupted the conversation. "I should go retrieve the meal and set it up.", she said, Zoemie nodding in turn, and Xajymzia leaving while Zoemie went to grab some water.

Once Zoemie had quenched her thirst, she took a breath, and went into the kitchen. The dinner was sausage cheese soup, sludgey, thick and hearty. Not for everyone, but it did go a long way at soothing Zoemie. The most unusual thing for Zoemie was the dessert – Xajymzia had baked an upside-down pineapple cake, which replaced for now Zoemie's usual dessert.

After her dinner, Zoemie went to her room again. She really needed something to take her mind off things. She did eventually find a game to play, and booted it up, playing and enjoying herself without thinking too much, grinding up her population.

Zoemie went to sleep earlier than usual that night, but she did not care very much about it. She was so tired of the day, at this point, all she wanted was to sleep.

---

"Zoemie is asleep, for the night this time." Xajymzia had quite a lot on her mind, as well, but for different reasons. Her analysis of the how Zoemie's magic took when transferring items between worlds had given her a pretty good idea on how Zoemie proceeded and how she could in turn begin.

But it didn't mean it would be easy. "Zoemie's spells operated on magical-mind guidance.", Xajymzia confirmed. "It might be necessary as a starting point." What Xajymzia meant by "magical-mind guidance" referred to a known phenomenon primarily associated with powerful mages.

The cost and to a lesser extent effectiveness of a spell was in a major way linked to the knowledge its caster possessed. This was particularly apparent in healing magic, where someone more knowledgeable about human bodies was capable of casting healing spells for cheaper.

Magical-mind guidance, in a sense, was the reverse of this. What it entailed, roughly speaking, was magic using more magic to, well, guide itself into accomplishing the caster's goal, that guidance typically done through a combination of brute force and knowledge connections. In simpler terms, magic, in large enough amounts, can force its way through certain problems.

Zoemie's transfers and interdimensional cursing had been done by loading the spell's goal in a large charge of magic with "figuring out how to work across worlds" at its sole goal, and Xajymzia was pretty sure she'd have to do it in this fashion as well. An important thing to note here is that once the magic had figured out, casting the spell again did become cheaper... slightly.

"I will need two structures." Xajymzia mused. "One will handle the "how to open a portal part", and the other the open the gate and keep it opened." I will need a large-scale mana channeling setup... Much more to prepare than anticipated.

"The return trip will be a problem as well, and a significantly bigger one." If Zoemie is right, there is no magic on her homeworld. This means that one's own mana is one's sole source, and that it won't regenerate over time through ambient absorption. It'd be very easy to get stranded.

"One could build the structure on the other side, but without enough mages to fuel it it wouldn't work, and if they would have to return regularly to recharge as well." A good enough rotation could work around this problem, but... currently I do not possess such manpower, and should operate under the idea I never will.

"Alternatively, a structure to drag things from the other side ? It might work better, but will require even more work. Hmm..." Xajymzia considered. "Let's focus on something I can do now.", she decided, before teleporting to another area within the ruins' basement floor. She looked around, and nodded.

With a twist of the maid's wrist, the place turned into a dry, tropical-climate field of dry grass, perfect for both pineapple farming and xeriscaping. "Pineapple plantations... and cocoa trees... For now that's the plan, yes." More later maybe.

The fully isolated nature of the dungeon meant that vermin or invasiveness wouldn't be risks. Soil depletion wasn't much an issue because of dungeon magic, although Xajymzia still planned on figuring out a crop rotation. Just in case. At least both Zoemie and Xajymzia could quite literally make it rain or shine in a fingersnap, so weather wouldn't be a problem.

Xajymzia turned short grass into a field ready to be planted in a few more hand motions, an ease to make subsistence farmers all over the galaxy mad with envy. When that was done, Xajymzia conjured a large bag of pineapple seeds and planted the seeds using more magic. A swifter method than elbow grease. Magic truly is convenient.

Xajymzia did not care that much about the plants themselves. Now, certainly, it was nice to have free food, it wasn't that important compared to the cheaper conjuration, not just on pineapples, but also on paper. Most likely because pineapple leaves can be turned into paper. It was a much lesser reduction, but on such an ubiquitous item it was welcome still.

"Next up, cacao." Xajymzia continued. Unlike the xerophyte, cacao needed a very wet environment and therefore would be handled somewhere else deep within the tropical farm area. She had considered making a cloud forest, but ultimately settled for cranking up the ambient humidity of the area to be farmed to a satisfying level, as well as toning down the sunlight in the specific spot.

Xajymzia once again did not expect much in the way of production – she was doing this for cheaper chocolate, which would come in handy. She didn't know how much she would need, but in her experience diminishing returns could sometimes kick in quite fast. No need for hectares and hectares of production.

Especially for a single person. Thinking about this all of a sudden made Xajymzia feel strange. Do humans band with eachother because a single one can't do all the work necessary to produce food ? She wasn't sure and in fact quite doubted it, but there was something about the thought that made a deep, primal part of her feel uneasy.

The maid shook her head, and decided to focus on the plantations still. It was... rather haphazard at this point, but that would change later. Xajymzia had nothing but time to organize, after all. What else would she need ? She wasn't certain still. Worth thinking about.

---

Zoemie dreamed that night, again. But this time it as not the same, yet in some fashions, it was. A small town, burned to the ground, nothing remaining but charred bricks and thrashed fields. It was as if a typhoon had whirled over the town.

A trio, slightly familiar, looked at the carnage with sorrow and hatred on their faces. "Crimson Wraith, huh... just you wait. We're coming for you !" one of them said, Zoemie wasn't sure of which.

The dream moved further down the road, zooming around the aforementioned Crimson Wraith who was slightly further ahead. The man laughed, before he spoke, his voice filled with a gross, gravelly sense of satisfaction.

"Heh. It's been a while since we really went to town like that ! Ain't that right, boys ?". The men behind him cheered and laughed, the whole sounding unpleasant to an outsider. The dream then greyed out again, and the creepy, unpleasant mechanical voice spoke.

"phantom swallowed by darkness

 

sacred holy blessed darkness

no more h o r r o r

 

many will celebrate

for it is w o r t h y of so

 

be proud"

Huh ?

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