Adjudicator

Selph Za'Darmondiel.

***

The change was subtle, but it was there. Turning from drow to drow paragons; from dark elves of the Demon Spider into night elves of the Elven Devil — it came with no warning.

No rush of power or influx of feeling came upon me, for I was already powerless and filled with fear when Lilith cast the drow of Zimysta Falls aside. A subtle wave of derision released the webs on our minds, giving us clarity for the first time in our lives- the only change we could make not of. Clarity. A clear picture of the horrors we would face on our own. Hunted by the countless drow scattered across the realms and those who dwelled on the surface. We had no choice. Yet, when Abbot Eiriol descended into the Falls, I realized we always had.

The drow females who used to tower over me now looked me dead in my eyes. During the festivities that followed, I realized my increased strength - nearing or on par with the humans - and understood that our natural ability to levitate had grown into a newfound ability to fly. Later, I realized our aversion to light was a thing of the past. Yet some things weren't so easy to let go.

The light on the surface served as a cruel reminder of that. In our newfound ability to dwell in the light, many were eager to gaze upon the Mortal Plane as we ascended to Eotrom. And though we saw verdant lands that strangely mirrored those found below, we also saw an infinite expanse of water kept beneath a blanket of unyielding sky. Many lost their stomachs. More wished to dwell underground once more or immigrate to those 'vessels' the Troupe favored. The rest of us simply wanted to live as we never had before. Myself included.

To that end, me and many other drow settled within Mani after arriving in the divine realm of Eotrom. Though they occupied various levels of the realm's center, I carved my residence in his level of darkness and free floating islands in the 9th layer of the world.

It was a place of arcana and divine industry that spoke to me in ways I struggled to describe. It… connected with me in ways I struggled to understand. A mere thought or idea to form an abode gripped the surrounding energy, manifesting the stones and carving them into place before my eyes; and in ways far nicer than I would have imagined. And yet, something spoke to me, telling me the consequences of my decision- that my station would be in Amun's state-sized region of the Cuttleship, wherein a copy of this home was created, existing without a purpose.

That was only the edge of the vein, however. The curious ramblings of my mind that spawned from my wandering eyes were answered without delay; and so I learned all about this exotic realm with mere glimpses and glances.

My thoughts of reconnecting with my surviving daughters brought images and illusions of Mala and Ilar while every memory of Nadra and Yela forced the eldritch words Amun spoke to Lilith to echo through my mind, and any time I began to feel lost regarding the future, I seemed to recount the tale Amun spun for us in House Za'Darmondiel.

It was glorious, truly. But so frustrating all the same. Though he vetted those who gained his knowledge, he did not do so well enough in the eyes of us drow. The way he so foolishly gave away his knowledge and, more importantly, his history, frustrated many of us. The way he improved the lives of everyone he encountered because he was 'bored' with their mundane lives infuriated us, but it was the one thing he chose to keep a secret that showed his naivety.

Sovereign Galendra. Or, as she was better known, Cononthoth, the red shadow dragon.

While it was a wonderful secret to keep from some. For many others, his creation of a new type of chromatic dragon had the potential to serve as the greatest source of faith in existence. Conversely, his knowledge of nature's laws, industry, and military might was the secret he needed to keep. Yet there seemed to be no one to decide who should learn these things and who should not. That, I soon resolutely believed. And with that resolution came my purpose.

With that purpose came an appearance.

"There is a method to the madness, Selph. Because of Telin's warning, I foresee terrible things happening to my home during my absence. Apocalyptic things. Thus I need to fill my Legions and Empire as quickly as possible. I need land, assets, allies, and people, and they need to be strong as possible. It would be no use if they die the moment they step into battle, after all. That's also why I can't afford to keep making enemies while I'm here, so I try to avoid war, for I know it awaits me in Maru.

"Only..." He sighed, seemingly in frustration, but perhaps disappointment. "it seems war cannot avoid me. As a result, I amend my plans by making deals, keeping the final result the same. More allies, less enemies."

The walls of my home seemed to spin, distort, and melt as he paused to step past me. In following him, the nauseating motion ceased, and I found myself dwarfed by a gargantuan skull of metal bones partially shrouded in obsidian-black flesh. Glowing blue like its eyes, strange angular veins converged on its temples, just like Amun's. And yet they wrapped around the giant skull like a diadem ingrained into its flesh.

Although lipless, it somehow smiled at me as its skull revolved down, as if it were nodding to me; placing in my line of sight the two massive doors placed on either side of the star-sized skull.

"The information I share is confidential." Amun explained. "The truth of my past life and my conversation with Telin is privy only to my classmates who joined the Legions, my vassals, and the Empire. You all are the only exception. Though perhaps even that isn't conditional enough."

"To that I can agree." I chortled- mostly at my discomfort from this stellar skull. "At the very least, only the nobles of Eotrom and the officers of the Legions should know of your conversation with Telin. Anyone who knows of your clerical class knows of your connection to the creator already- especially elves, so there's no reason to speak of it. Everyone can sense your divinity, after all.

"Your life before, on the other hand?" I continued. "Only royalty and the general-level officers of the Legions should know of that. As for others, allies and those beyond the Empire. They should never know. Moreover, they should only know a fraction of these things you can create. These weapons, tools, and machines? They should only be used when the situation calls for them. If even a single person sees these things, they'll have the mind to do whatever it takes to obtain them. Then you'll find yourself bleeding by a blade of your own creation."

"And therein lies your niche." Amun grinned, gesturing the overbearing skull above. "This is Simion Lumbarde, born in the year five-twenty-six, in the bustling city of Lumiere, northern Ulai, in Maru. He is both a scholar and a bard of the Tempest Guild. But he is first, a gentleman.

"The sixth century!" I found my brow rising alongside both my gaze and interest. "Well, I was born in the ninth century, though I can see our skills are aligned."

"Indeed, my good sir!" the behemoth answered, though not in the overbearing way I expected. Sourceless, it was. And soothing. "Though you have obviously evolved and lived as I have not," Simion continued. "We are both trained in the Bardic School of Lore and share in the Liege's desire to learn the genuine history of the Mortal Plane. His glory is so great that he granted me, the first dead mortal he conversed with, a mind capable of connecting him with those of his beloved legionaries, and a body capable of traversing the Mortal Plane.

"The Lore Skulls." I surmised.

"An unfinished project." Amun nodded, much to my dismay.

"Unfinished?" I echoed.

"As the Tech Administrator, Lady Iris enhanced my mechanical side, allowing me to connect with the scattered industries of Eotrom and enhance the capabilities of myself, my Lore Skulls, and the Legionaries." Simion explained. "Simultaneously, she is the Cybersecurity Administrator, ensuring none who use the Liege's technologies can use them against us.

"Lady Reina, on the other hand, enhanced the organic side of me and my Lore Skulls, and is the Administrator of my biological side. Together, they allow the skulls to traverse any environment without being seen, better integrate with every type of Eotrom's technology, and pass information in ways never heard of. But one aspect is still missing. The spirit."

"I am to be your… companion, then?" I cautiously asked. "To enhance your… magic?"

"Of sorts." Amun shrugged. "As things are now, acquiring a head to create a Lore Skull is one prerequisite for those fresh out of training to be recognized by their peers, in addition to raising a zombie or skeleton and an undying shadow. Through this, individual legionaries are composed of teams still.

"The idea is for their three undead to become like their familiars." Amun explained. "Iris and Reina will upgrade the skull and normal undead as the individual in question is promoted, but Simion's Lore Skulls will record their actions from the start, akin to a ghost watching their every move. However, these ghosts can still support their partners with the devices and parts implanted by Iris and Reina. You, in turn, will grant them the means to cast spells, and give them a higher sensitivity to the ManaNet.

"Likewise, you'll be the ManaNet Administrator who decides who gets to witness the things Simion records and sends to Willard Rowe, the Legions' Lore Master." Amun turned his grin to me. "You'll also be in charge of discerning who should obtain my most-secret knowledge, both within and beyond the Empire, as well as the one who works to prevent this knowledge from spreading where it should not. Or, if it does, you'll be the one who takes it back."

The change was crude, but almost ignorable. Turning from a drow paragon into an augmented drow paragon; from a night elf of the Nox to a Nox Drow imbued with the ArcaTech's blessing.

It came with the most blatant warning. A rush of divine arcana and an influx of various technologies funneled inside me, fusing with my flesh that had already been made complete and filled with the wisdom gained when Amun swept up the exiled drow of Zimysta Falls.

A simple shake of agreement cemented his blessing on my body, giving me a sense of depth for the first time since my ascension- the most prevalent of a hundred changes I realized at the time. Yet, when Simion's gaze descended on me, I realized.

The 'moons' like the icy rock looming above Shujen were similarly incomplete. In the days to follow, I understood each Legion would come to have one such moon of their owns. And though such moons were reserved for the Noctis Sages, they served to be the perfect thrones for the skulls.

Simion himself served as a stark reminder of that. Though he was hidden in this realm, his reach spanned all of reality. And so it was that each existing Lore Skull was taken and many more skulls were gathered and molded according to the template of their unit; intended not to be companions, but hubs; rulers of their lore legion.

Though they had varying visages, their skin, hair, eyes, and other features were restructured by Reina to bring them in line with their units and gift them with newfound abilities; claws, tendrils, or other appendages for locomotion; eyes, ears, and antennae; and even venomous fangs, smoke clouds, or burning breath.

With Iris, their innards were tinkered with to enhance their functionality in terms of war and industry. Some could smelt and recycle materials. Others held utility purposes, being lights, power supply units, or robotic arms. All could control some type of technology. Then they came to me to be gifted spirits and affinities through virtue of enchantment crystals and arcane spellcasting.

Once they were done, though, the work was not complete. While Iris and Reina turned to complete the thrones at the cores of those moons, I had two more skulls to work through before I turned to my chosen purpose.

Two Lore Skulls. Starting with the Lore Skull of Zed Legion, Sir Richor, and ending with mine.