Black Magus

Borghildr Wangum.

Half-Dwarven/Human.

26th of Trescia, 1492.

Chor, Nevstan Principality.

09:30

***

Last night was something. And that was saying something, 'cause five nights ago was something too. And many nights before.

They all started like any other night since my retirement as the so-called 'Mind of the Cherku.' At the Purple Leopard. On a private terrace where I could look out at the not-so-dreary sky as I soaked up the rewards of my bullshit title. A title of bullshit, born from the sole fact that I was the only general in the regiment's history to not be put there by nepotism. I was the only competent bitch in charge since its formation in 1267. And now that I was gone, it was some other daughter of a bastard's job to make the unit serviceable. To top it all off, it was all accomplished before my 48th birthday. Not bad for a runaway Mazian.

To make matters better, things only got more interesting once the Bodhi Tree students we watched fight last year traveled to these here lands. Ever since the Cole kid and Sir Edward arrived in Bakewia, things got even better. The bards started playing new instruments in newer styles. New products from Bakewia came in; and with them came carriages that could power themselves, boxes that could hold a dragon's hoard, weird tablets, and strange crystals that let me talk to my contacts or witness some quite outrageous things without leaving the comforts of my home, now floating among the birds.

For the most part, life was good. From the comforts of my balcony above and my terrace below, I watched Sir Edward's massive forces enter and rebuild every section of the Principality's border wall and the walls of each city in days. I watched Pascal Industries revolutionize transportation in no time flat, connecting the City of Chor to the Bakewian capitol of Shavew via an elevated network of wide, winding roads that didn't impose on nature. It was the same as his Guild Master, who revolutionized communication with his data slates, terminals, and the ManaNet in no time flat. That was the mark of competence I so admired. The thing that got me to this position. Something I wished was present in my ranks for at every waking moment back in my days. But alas, such times were long gone.

So I thought until yesterday, when the so-called worlds woven above produced miracle after miracle, changing virtually everything for everyone across the Peninsula before that… divine beam was sent across the World Sea, changing everything else, everywhere else.

I could not speak for anyone else, but when the blue wave flooded my home, miscellaneous items I'd procured over the years glowed with that same energy; cleaning or repairing themselves or, in some cases, upgrading themselves to work autonomously, powered by that same blue hue that seemed to never fade away. The other waves of silver and gold produced effects as well. Strange dreams or feelings of nostalgia, mostly. But those were tame in comparison to that deep blue infused into my home and more. My carriage grew a sleeker body of metal and roared to life with a satisfying growl before settling down in wait. One of my data slates - the first one I procured - grew to the size of a window and fastened itself to my wall where it pinged, releasing torrents of energy that carved archaic veins through the walls, connecting it to everything from my braziers, hearth, and kitchen, to the lights, windows, and doors; powering them through a most peculiar force.

I went to sleep last night, eager about the prospects of another day of tinkering mixed with some Legion-watching and a side of dour reminiscing. Only to be interrupted in the mid-morning by a triage of knocks.

My overgrown data slate reacted before I did, sharing what the scrying eye was gazing upon outside my surface gate. A most surprising face; shocking and relieving all the same, unlike those accompanying him, developing a fearful seed of disappointment I readily acknowledged. I tried to stomp it out on the walk across the garden and mostly succeeded by curiosity alone. Mostly because it dominated the equation, resulting in me greeting the leader of my four guests with levels of rude candor only an elder could get away with.

"Sir Edward Pascal." I began as I eased the door open. "I don't know if I should be worried or hopeful about your arrival." He and his cohort remained silent throughout the action, seeming to give me time to come to terms with the exotic sight of his three companions and the massive… thing behind them.

It looked like they killed a massive centipede before knocking on my gate. A centipede with many cogs for a body, metal spires for antennae, and mechanical staircases for legs. Moreover, Sir Edward looked just as exotic. He had strange lines running along his body - seams, almost. Or... groves like the ones in my home. Tiny, glowing things. They ran up his neck from his collarbones to the thumbnail-sized gear insignias on his temples, subtly glowing with a gray-blue light. And that was just the outside.

All things considered, the kids accompanying him only made it weirder. Well, only one was around Ed's age, a Strifling kid with blue skin and quite exotic horns. Ram-like but flat and curved to cross at the back of the head like a half-helm. The eldest of them was a halfling, probably in her twenties, with smoky eyes magnified by her spectacles and a blue-gray beret fitted to her head. The other girl was a gnome, perhaps in her early twenties, but it was hard to tell with her child-like exuberance. All she wore besides her goggles, smithy apron, blue tunic, and bandanna were gauntlets, a pauldron, and a set of heavy greaves.

It was quite the sight.

"General Wangum, a pleasure." Edward politely bowed, rising into a chortle. "Unfortunately, there was no asbestos here. If there was, we could have talked sooner."

"Oh? You must not have wanted to see me badly enough. Else, you would have found a reason." I playfully jeered. To which he amiably shrugged, as if to surrender to the point.

"I come on behalf of my Legion; the Cogs of Eotrom. These are some of my first officers," he said, gesturing to first the halfling, then the strifling, then the gnome. "This is Grand Master Civil Chief Yerda Sprigmore, Noctis Marshal Lahkrius, and Grand Master Chief Engineer Zazz."

"Quite the long titles." I openly mused.

Sir Ed shrugged again. "Everything is a work in progress."

"Hah! I appreciate the candor." I cackled, stepping aside. "Come in. I've got no tea, so ale, spirits, or water are your choices."

"We'll have what you're having." He tactfully answered and otherwise remained silent while those worn bones of mine guided them further in.

I wasn't so patient. "So not only are you a Grandmaster Artificer, but you're a new cleric as well?" I wowed in disbelief, gesturing to the divinely radiant skull of rivets, screws, plates, and rods dangling from his neck. "To whom?"

"To the one who made that." He said, pointing his chin at the data slate in my hand. "The ArcaTech."

"So the rumors are true?" I eased myself into my chair with a great sigh, thankful the drinks began serving themselves since yesterday's events. Speaking of… "So all of that from yesterday was Amun's doing? His ascension, I presume. He's truly a living God? Of what?"

"Yeah," was all the young Grandmaster Artificer said. Yet my data slate - the one on the wall - chimed with a message sent from Sir - or rather, from Imperator Edward Pascal.

Through cascading images and what seemed to be memories implanted in my mind, I saw glimpses into a realm of efficiency and competence I had never imagined possible, and one I could hardly comprehend. Moonlight, Twilight, Mana, and Engineering. An Empire that stretched from the depths of the Darkworld to the void above the skies and beyond to a divine realm. Legions of demigods who inherited the abilities of the godly leaders. Explorers of the Mortal Plane. I saw the Legio Noctis.

I saw an offer. An invitation. And it arrived most strangely.

"I'm here to ask if you're going to spend the rest of your life drinking in Chor?"

"Hah! Look who thinks he's hot shit!" I boisterously rocked in my chair. "Can't say it's undeserved, though. The Legions may be in its infancy, but you run a tight unit, I'll give you that. However, I'm a retired lady o' war coming upon my third half-century. My days of fighting are long gone. Drinkin' in Chor is all this worn body o' mine can do."

"I'm not asking you to fight." Imperator Pascal shook his head. "That would be a disservice to your accomplishments. I'm asking you to be my General of generals. As for your body." He leaned back, shrugging with a childish grin. "Allow me to show you how that won't be an issue."

My personal data slate chimed before I could answer and I responded it reflexively, finding the small crystal emitting the image of a domineering suit of heavy armor. It had red-glowing goggles lined with gears that stared menacingly from beneath a domed, almost mushroom-shaped helmet. Whatever mask it held was hidden beneath a wedged plate with holes stamped across the face. The pauldrons, collar, gauntlets, and greaves were all accented with gears. Otherwise, it was a standard suit of armor, adorned with a rucksack of some sort that gave it the shape of a slim turtle shell.

"Grim Gear was the legendary armor I created to become a Grandmaster Armorer," Ed explained. "It is Power Armor. Meaning, the servos and motors within the inbuilt exoskeleton move the armor in tune with the user's body, markedly enhancing their physical prowess. All versions completely seal the wearer inside and use various machinations to keep the wearer alive. As such, they are completely isolated and protected from environmental hazards, whether it be fire, poison, or a lakebed. Mark, or Version One, was created for those with no magic and uses no magic. or enchantments to function. Instead, it holds an easily interchangeable and rechargeable power pack, giving it a limited operation."

I understood the implications at once. Yet the image burst to life to produce a sleeker but larger copy of the Grim Gear. Then, another copy appeared, then another and another, each more sleek and refined than the last until it was just Sir Edward's visage beneath the label, 'Grim Gear Mk VI, Integrated.'

I could only stare at the comparatively small visage of Sir - Imperator Pascal, as I re-read the titles and descriptions of each Grim Gear variant in disbelief, for I knew of nowhere on the Mortal Plane where something like this was issued to a military force so freely. That would have been true if what Sir Edward said was the whole of it. What he didn't mention about being 'keeping the wearer alive,' was that the pack provided water, medicine, and some type of nutritious pills to tubes or dispensers within the mask, which itself could filter toxins out of the air and recycle spent breath underwater. If that wasn't enough, it used cooling loops to maintain a pleasant temperature in sub-zero or scalding conditions and had many of the same functions as my data slate in those goggles, mask, and helm; including the communications devices and illusory vision - or augmented reality. And that was just the first version.

Grim Gear Mk II was another set of mithral armor with all the aforementioned capabilities, but it was powered by a host of enchantments that negated the need for a rechargeable power supply, effectively making the operative range indefinite. Moreover, the magical materials and enchantments allowed the communications, life support, and witch 'modules' to be smaller while still enhancing their capabilities, enabling the armor to thrive in much more extreme conditions. Overall, the liberated space had been opened to fit and power interchangeable modules that ranged from recycling and crafting devices to storage units, witchcraft tools, and occupation-specific equipment. And yet, the armor was still made larger, being almost Juggernaut-sized.

Grim Gear Mk III was essentially the same as Mk II. The key differences were the additional enchantments and the adamantine it was made with. Because of the latter, the suit was slimmed down to the size of traditional heavy plate armor, yet was compensated by an assortment of enchantments primed by Imperator Ed himself, allowing for smoke screens, force fields, thrusters, and tungsten projectiles on top of the negated magnetism born from a magnetic enchantment.

Grim Gear Mk IV saw the adamantine armor be skimmed further, putting it on par with scale mail in terms of size. Moreover, every component, layer, or piece of the armor was somehow infused with various magical affinities at a fundamental level, allowing analogs of each module to exist between the layers. This cleared the support pack's innards and thus made space for larger occupation-specific modules.

Naturally, the same was the case for the Grim Gear Mk V. Only, it was made using the exotic materials born in Amun's divine realm of Eotrom. Things I was ignorant of, of course. But I was not ignorant of their effects - some of them.

One of them.

Noxweave was a fabric woven with the mutated forms of Faerie Flax privy to Eotrom and her Legions. Above all others, it had the ability to permanently link its fabric to its wearer. Not through their body, but their soul. Their equipment - this Grim Gear would remain with them past death, which cemented the only potential problem with this ordeal.

"All I gotta do is sell my soul."

Much to my surprise, Imperator Edward Pascal didn't shy away from that fact. On the contrary, he rolled his head and shrugged as if it was something he casually forgot to mention.

"Well." He began. "That's true. But in a way, it's no different from forming a pact with or being the follower of another God, Devil, Fae, or anything else. The only difference is that this pact will bring you into the greatest guild to ever exist, the Legio Noctis. You will become a warlock along with the rest of us in a few months, a Prime Noctis Legionary - a founder. And, you'll personally know and work beside your patron - me. Amun too."

Pausing, he nodded to the little gnome, bringing my eyes to the four sarcophagi she pulled from seemingly nowhere. "This is what will happen should you agree."

The blue-gray stone of the sarcophagi was emblazoned with the likeness of that leafless tree we were taught to be fearfully respectful of as children; and centered beneath it was a goat's skull of smoky-gray bolts, rivets, screws, and other such things, with coiled wrenches for horns and eyes the same blue-gray as Sir Edward's temples. One for the Strifling, one for the halfling, one for the gnome, and one for me; should I agree.

The little gnome cheekily palmed her sarcophagus, and it replied immediately, standing on end with an abruptness that forced me back a step. A pulse of blue-gray light bathed the room as the others followed suit, each of their sarcophagi hissing as they unfurled to unveil Mk V Grim Gears tailored to fit their likenesses. The one for the gnome even omitted the one greave and the sole pauldron she wore, and they were all surrounded by an array of exotic machinery, tools, weapons, and other unknown devices.

Like the sarcophagus, the Grim Gear reacted to her presence as she stepped behind it, opening its back from helm to boots with satisfying clicks to reveal a snugly inviting interior illuminated in blue-gray light. Yet she did not approach it. Instead, she waited for her companions, and me, to follow suit.

Despite my reservations, I made my decision long ago. I took the opportunity readily, feeling like a little girl again as my sarcophagus hissed and unfurled to reveal a similar suit built to my size. My eyes were drawn to the four counters that fell from the walls of my sarcophagus, however. They slammed into the ground and thrummed as they expanded their cores, lifting their surfaces to reveal glass shelves filled with clothes, blades, maps, and various other things. The one closest to me held a quilted uniform dyed in the same colors as the sarcophagus; made with that same eldritch material. Looking at it- running my finger over it - birthed understanding. Knowledge of what I would become and what would be asked of me should I don this armor. Understanding of the demands I could make in exchange.

By the time those thoughts came and went, the little gnome had already stepped inside, her suit retracting to seal around her back and pulse with light. As the other two joined, the room was quickly filled with the luminosity of their gear and a chorus of clicks erupting from those angular veins crawling throughout their armor.

Whatever it was, seemed to work like the grandmaster artificer's perks, breaking apart the armor into finger-sized rectangles that detached, shifted, lifted, or rotated before collapsing deeper into the frame. But whereas those perks would deconstruct or recycle those pieces, these kept cascading. The mushroom-helm kept shifting. Kept shrinking. Collapsing in on itself until her puffy afro, brown skin, apron, and tunic appeared amidst the chaos.

"Yesterday saw significant changes to the Peninsula." Imperator Pascal began, pulling my attention away from the others, scurrying about their counters. "Naturally, we Primes significantly changed as well. Blessings from Amun. One of my changes saw my legendary armor meld with my flesh, turning me into an augmented human. This is the Grim Gear Mk VI!" he declared, spreading his arms to his companions.

"My solution to my frailty." I gasped in disbelief, for I truly disbelieved he chose me above all others for this role. Not to mention… "And this power that's passed down to your subordinates, Integration? I'm guessing that's your other... blessing?"

"How intuitive." He beamed wide like the kid he was. "That's exactly why I came to you, General."

Saying nothing more, the Imperator pointed to the Strifling, holding his forefinger and thumb in a 'C' shape over a wrench before invoking another cascade of energy. Like the armor, it broke apart into smaller pieces that cascaded into his hand, leaving his fingers curved and angled like a proper wrench until that too faded, and his fingers returned to normal. Then he went on to repeat the action with the various tools strewn about his first counter. Blades, axes, hammers, shovels, shears, pliers, and more common tools.

"Integration is a type of Technomancy." The Imperator answered before I could ask, though it explained little, even as he pressed on. "An ability you will obtain, should you agree. However, it won't be a sorcerous ability like mine."

"Warlock magic." I nodded. "Eldritch magic."

"Between that, the Gear, and the means to create what we please, bodily weaknesses, injuries, and even age means nothing. But this is not done out of a want or need for power. The Noctis Legions are on a mission to bring true peace to Maru. After that, we're exploring the Mortal Plane. In its entirety."

I took a second to think about it, but only a second. I may have been a Mazian runaway, but I wasn't dumb. And while I said what I said earlier, it was natural to at least be reluctant when one discussed the transaction of one's soul. But this... this was different. While devils, Children of the Nox were a different breed. And this one was a God among mortals. I wasn't one to pass up a legendary opportunity that came knocking at my door. At least not without conditions. Insignificant, though they may have been.

All I demanded for my service as the 3rd Legion's Prime General was the safety of my daughter, my grandson, and their families; and, should they accept, for the same opportunity to enter these ranks.

While I knew what I was feeling when I spoke those words, I knew not how I felt to hear Imperator Pascal's immediate response. It was almost as if nothing was off limits from the start, thus there was never a need for him to ponder a reply. Simultaneously, I remembered - relived my studies in the Bardic College of Leadership, mended the foundation that had grown so worn since my induction into the military, and grasped the chains around my heart as I remembered my Oath to Protect; and I saw a much broader horizon to care after.

I could focus on neither of those things, however, for time seemed to freeze for everything except for us the moment my last word was spent. We and the data slate fastened into the wall, which was now glowing with deep blue energy and pulsing in tune with the voice of a young girl.

"Hey, Uncle Ed!"

The Imperator reeled back as much as we did. "I- Iris?"

"Yup!" the voice chimed. "Well, a digital clone. But same thing. Anyway, I've been waiting for you to find a general so I can sponsor your Legion. We're all doing it!"

"We?"

"The Troupe!" She beamed. "Naturally, I picked yours."

Ed remained silent for a second or two, his eyes flicking between nothing in particular until he reeled back in understanding. "Ah!" was all he said.

"Anyway, I'm going to give your Legion some additional augmentations and give you three something special," she said, somehow changing the screen to an image of me, the Strifling, and the halfling. "Step inside your Grim Gear, please!"

I wish I could describe some surreal feeling of easing inside the Gear. The most notable part was that it took some time, even with help. Inside, it felt like being enveloped in a stiff pillow that kept my body upright; and when the pulse came, it only tickled. The cascade felt like coarse sand or soft rocks- perhaps marshmallows, falling onto my skin and somehow sinking to the depths of my being. After, however...

After the cascade, it was like I'd taken my first breath of fresh air after breathing smoke for my entire life; and in lungs that were brand new. What before was the thoughtless action of breathing became apparent when more air than normal entered my lungs. With it came a wave of strangeness that I only realized in hindsight to be the smells of a hundred things once blind to my nose, mixed with the richness of oxygen.

At that moment, I felt giddy; unhealthily so. Like I was on the verge of passing out. Colors I never thought possible. Sounds once imperceptible to my ears. Sensations, scents, and tantalizing tastes. I felt as if I would be overwhelmed by these things I was once blind to. Yet, the enhancement of my mind saw each of those stimuli be acknowledged, analyzed, and categorized alongside the details of the beings in front of me before I had the thought to exhale. Then… clarity.

"My sponsorship includes my children dwelling in the Cogipede, plus some blessings to enhance your Integration ability, allowing you to integrate into external frames." Iris, the Tech Goddess of Eotrom, rattled away while schematics detailing beasts of machinery and the things they produced flowed through my mind like a river; and at the height of those products were three sentient crystals.

"Also, I'm giving these to every Legion's Prime Marshal, Grandmaster Civil Chief, and General. Well, I only wanted to give them to the Generals. But they only want to coexist with their siblings." She tutted. Then the information started flowing again. "Anyway, do you accept?"

"Naturally." I nodded after Imperator Pascal's agreement.

I habitually squinted as three bright stars appeared beneath my ceiling, then recoiled in surprise once I noticed my new eyes adjusting themselves and more, telling me the exact luminosity of the lights of red, blue, and green. Their properties and compositions too, and the trajectories they would follow as the sentient crystals descended to their chosen ones.

Although I was focused on neither of them, I saw the pear-cut sapphire snap into the naval of GrandMaster Civil Chief Yerda Sprigmore and integrate itself into his frame to form a regal belt, buckled by the Pious Patron, Preston.

So too did I see the octagon-cut ruby secure itself around the neck of Prime Marshal Lahkrius and integrate itself into the buckle of his mantle, jeweled by the Mazer Matron, Molly.

I saw them, Grandmaster Chief Engineer Zazz Zeelba, and Imperator Pascal, just as clearly as I saw the Marquise-cut emerald slam into the center of my brow to form what felt like a third eye. Then, everything changed.

My mind- my mental prowess skyrocketed in ways that allowed me to see into the records and lives of the thousands of souls who also joined these Legions so mighty; all in mere seconds.

"I truly could not comprehend the breadth of this organization until now." I gasped. "Still in its infancy. Still growing. None will be able to imagine it in just a few short years."

"Few ever will, according to my projections," an unfamiliar voice said. Androgynous, sourceless, and mechanical, yet familiar, and in tune with a pulsing green gear persisting at the edge of my vision. "Oh, pardon my lack of manners. I am your Honorable Heir, Harper. It is a pleasure to be working with you, General Wangum."

'Likewise." I bowed, more in my mind than with my body; for that was occupied by a screen not unlike the one from my data slate floating before my eyes.

{You have received an invitation from the Praefectus Noctis to: The Game.}

{Do you accept?}

An array of lines filled my eyes the moment I accepted, causing something to birth blue auras around those in the room while my consciousness and vision swelled beyond it. Imperator Pascal and the others still glowed with that blue aura as my floating home fell away, becoming an insignificant speck, opening my eyes to a million more things that'd been marked, highlighted, and annotated across an ever-expanding board. Resources; entities, enemies, and our allies moving about them; diagrams or models showed what could or should be done in any place and by whom.

From the edge of the skies to the depths of the Darkworld, I could see all the Bodhi Peninsula on a table before me. Yet, I lifted my gaze to its rim and saw others poised around the table, making calculations with their emerald circlets pulsing like mine. Other beings like me. Augmented, not with the Grim Gear, but with Honorable Heirs.

The Prime Generals of the Legions; gathered in a ring around the Praefectus Noctis.