Drow Might

Iris Cole.

30th of Quintetas, 1492.

Dust Plains, Central Zimysta Falls. Shujen Kingdom Dark Sky. Depth: 247,231 km.

09:13

***

I spent more than a day watching their House from afar, scanning and probing the ostentatious designs hidden beneath the stone.

House Hun'ana was a palace of cruel elegance hidden in plain sight. Like the other houses, the sole point of entry was the leftmost edifice beneath the two oppressive orbs of the first two houses; a giant face in its own right, wreathed in the red flames of the faerie. Within, however, was something marvelous.

Ground penetrating radar, arcana, and vital scans unveiled a labyrinth of tunnels on top of tunnels on top of tunnels. Not in the sense one would use for locomotion or logistics—spider tunnels, wreathed in crimson webs. Burrows, built by the grotesque tarantulas of Lilith's domain.

As far I could tell, the only unbroken path from the entry was a highway leading straight to the slave wing several dozen kilometers away. A veritable castle carved out of a rich concentration of common and precious metals- their first mine.

Behind that was their industrial area, a city built like an assembly line. As a form of torture, their finest slave artisans worked tirelessly within eyesight of the resting quarters they desperately awaited, their stations being fed by the fields of casting rigs and refineries behind them. Just like the crucibles were fed by the pulverizing stations, which fed the sorting facilities, fed from storage depots filled by the mines stretching back for leagues.

With all that industry, they still had more slaves than they could handle. Indeed, there were many dwarven slaves, including gray dwarves, gnomes both deep and not, elves, and even drow, but doubly so dwarves. They bore hearty machines that could bear the grit of ages with no complaints. Simple structures crafted so finely it made experts marvel at their work.

It was a shame. I hoped the grandeur of House Hun'ana would have bore more fruit. What was seen here went little beyond excavation, metallurgy, and basic crafting. Jewels, chalices, and trinkets were made unceasingly, destined to be sold or stored in some room and forgotten; only the lucky fulfilled their purpose. Weapons and tools were forged without end or sent to lay alongside an unmoving body of arms for years.

Industry poured deep into the stone, yet all they had to show for it were the basics. Toys even a child could make. No machines, unique armor, powerful weapons, or even enchantments to set them above the other houses. Only an abundance of slaves and more metals than they knew what to do with.

It was a waste. A waste that became a cruel joke after calculating the potential of their industrious drive paired with such resources. A potential only two members of their house saw, for it had been beaten out of the rest.

A potential I would soon realize. In both them and this House.

I gazed upon their profiles as I watched them stalk through the Falls from afar and saw the suggested truths align with reality. As Etan pointed out, they were drow of exceptional poise and pride. As expected of the daughters of a High Matron. Pious, yet militant and industrious beings who studied war, strategy, and guild history, as well as artisanal crafts and artificing, just as I had. But only because her mother's clergy had been filled.

Or rather, because they weren't given the freedom to do much else.

They walked with a dozen drow slaves. All males, of course, and each pair of slaves had an overseer, with two of them being their brothers, Z'rett and Z'benna; all trailing the daughters like nervous colts—another suggested truth verified.

Not only did they have more slaves than they knew what to do with, they had more drow than they could deal with. Lesser drow, survivors from past raids on houses erased from the annals of history; nameless drow taken from off the 'street;' the forsaken members of the family; all enslaved or, at best, given meaningless tasks to carry out until their end of days. Just like their Goddess decreed to their matrons.

A sudden click pulled my eyes away from her for just a second. A second later, digital visages of the Troupe were scattered across my vision like a rainbow. A rendering of Etan's stoic visage appeared in my optics a moment later, preceding the echoes of his mind across the Net.

{"The disappearance of Ruel and the families of Ilar, Daulery, and Mala; as well as Raki's defeat has trickled up the web to the High Matrons. They left this pit and are now performing a ritual of some kind. I can feel it. The High Priestess remain here, ordering their Priestesses to send their spiders to capture more of our kind. Those they think to be traitors. Worry not. I will liberate those who come."}

{"There are only three left on the list."} The GM said next. {"Two Heart, our future Mage, and our Valkyrie to-be."}

{"And I'll have my M&Ms soon."}

{"Your what?"} Freki chimed in.

{"Marine Machines. Or Mithral Marines. Either or."} I explained, taking a final look at the drow and her cohort before I got underway. {"The beacons are in place. Moving to RP One."}

{"We... should be finished with the tap by the time the last ones are rounded up,"} Reina cryptically said, followed by Blude.

{"We're staying out here with Rippa until it's time. She's got a lot to learn."}

{"Same."} Geri chimed in.

{"Is…"} Freki hesitated. {"Sovereign Galendra going to be there?"}

{"I am!"} Her voice rattled my soul like a roar compared to Freki's whisper. {"And I can hear your howling quite clearly."}

{"Our souls are connected."} Dad told them. {"Everything I sense, she senses, and vice versa."}

{"Fear not."} She said. {"You stand in the shade of the Elven Devil's wings. Therefore you stand in the shade of mine. The same cannot be said for these Drow and their precious Spider, however."}

I couldn't agree more.

***

Evar 'Two-Heart' Za'Darmondiel.

***

Mii'etus Praesyris. The Tower of Might. It seemed so different during this fateful time. For nearly seven centuries, the place had seemed so mundane. Throughout all that time, these times were the only ones wherein I gazed upon it with the ardor I did as a young drow. The perspective I gained when I reflected on the trials I faced back then was… indescribable.

 The wide gaps in the bridges that had seemed so dauntless were less than trivial for me to levitate across; scaling the scaffolding of web holding them in place far away from the walls was like walking- effortless; leaping to and fro the scattered boulders platforms was like second nature; the long flights of stairs trailing off every Eye, Leg, and wall of the upper cavern took no stamina to traverse.

I wondered how He reacted to it all. The being of prophecy we all obsessed about. The one I heard both so much and so little about. What I didn't think to consider, however, was what his Troupe thought of it.

I was not one to look down on another species like so many drow- or elves, even. Of course, I had my limits. Like many, I would neither breed with nor work beneath anything other than a drow, the Nox notwithstanding. I did not think them lesser, however. Only that they were of different natures, burdened with different purposes, unknown though some of them may be.

I knew that with enough training and experience, or simply enough passion, humans could become formidable adversaries, for I faced them in battle just as I'd faced the heartiest of dwarves, the most cunning elves, the most charming halflings, and the craftiest gnomes. I knew more about those creatures than any book could teach. Thus I knew those in his employ were mighty.

Therein formed my source of disappointment when I saw not all of them trailing the Eternal Champion. Trailing him was the so-called goblin 'paragon,' Leary, riding atop some strange creature of bone, fur, and undeath. Beside him was the adopted daughter of Amun- something that came as a shock to us all.

Unlike the others he adopted, Iris seemed… innocent. Untouched by death and darkness. So far beyond a being born from the source of all evil as the Nox were so often described. Yet, the most primal part of me couldn't help but believe it to be a masterful facade. She was exceptionally dangerous.

Her face was amiable but her eyes were analytical, glowing with a yellow vibrancy as they scanned the tower behind me. Yet, they shifted to the same blue as her tunic before they fell to me, matching the innocence of her smile. Jewels of divine radiance covered her head, forming a tiara and earrings of curious forms. Almost like… weapons.

Most curious was the drow at Amun's side. She was… magnificent, to say the least. Powerful in every sense of the word. Two meters tall, at least, and dangerously beautiful. Divine, even, with a cruelty in her gold-speckled irises that the Matrons could never hope to match. Nor could they hope to match the silken robes flowing off of her, adorned with dark jewels like the headdress cradling her skull. Even then, I approached them without a second thought, nodding to the lot of them before I motioned for them to follow.

"Greetings, Amun and company, and welcome to the Tower of Might. I am Evar Za'Darmondiel, the cohort of the High Matron; dubbed Two-Heart due to my… propensity for producing twins. Indeed, I am the father of the fifth and sixth daughters, Raki and Ruel Za'Darmondiel, in addition to the first and second sons, Etan and Eban Za'Darmondiel. Officially, my title is War Master of the House. In this context, however, I am the High Counsel of this tower."

"Oh, we're doing titles." Amun childishly snickered, seemingly to himself. Yet everyone among him mimicked his sentiment while he began reaching into his coat at a cautiously slow pace. "In that case, I am Amun, the Twenty-Fifth Child of the Nox, Son of Emeric Cole and... Eved. I am the Grand Duke of the Odissian Empire and the Eternal Emperor of Eotromenia. Guild Master of the Legio Noctis. The Undying Reaper. The Elven Devil. The World Weaver. The ArcaTech. God of Mana. Telin's Eternal Champion."

Grinning wide, he withdrew an all-too-familiar object that made my heart fall as my hand rose to the spider-shaped brooch pinning my cloak to my shoulders, then he returned it to the darkness just as quickly. But not quickly enough for it to remain unseen. 'It' being both the item and the implications it carried.

"I am Leary, the Faithful. Goblin Paragon. Goblin God-Emperor. Ruler of the Unkempt. Marshal of the Nox Legions. The Sovereign of Bone. The First Super Villain. Commander of Mick Green. Proprietor of Bonewater Refinery."

"I am Iris Cole. Daughter of Amun, who carries her father's blood. The First Augmented Human. The Divine Princess of Eotrom. Divine Mother of the Technica Dominion. Tech Goddess. Praefectus Noctis. Goddess of Militaries, Recycling; and Information."

"Sovereign Galendra." The towering drow said, looking down on me with an uncanny smirk while darkness rippled off her in waves.

Such answers- and the item shown by Amun- left me at a loss for words. I was so distracted by their answers I could only continue recounting my steps to the tower, only speaking over my shoulder several minutes later. "This is the tower of least concern for the Matrons." I paused both our steps and my words to gesture around the floating field of bridges, webs, and boulders. "As such, there is no such thing as an entrance exam or admission ceremony. Any who can stand before the gates is authorized to study the ways of might in this tower."

"It's the opposite of ours, but still the same," Iris said; more to herself than anyone else. Yet she still looked at me to clarify. "Our jobs are essentially the same, War Master and Praefectus Noctis. Strategy, training, and logistics. The primary overseer of a military force. Or, as it's called above, a general."

"The Goddess of Militaries," I said, ridiculous though it felt, no matter how much I could feel the sense of authority bleeding off her.

"Yeah." Iris carelessly confirmed. "The Legions have no standards much like yours. Old, young, sick, healthy, benevolent, malevolent. Anyone can join. We find a place for everyone, whether in a state of life or sentient undeath. They're tested after, during their training."

"I see." I nodded, deciding to carry the conversation a little further. We were not yet at the gates, after all. "Marshal. I would surmise that means you are the senior field officer, then?" I asked Leary, to which the man-sized goblin nodded. "Yes."

It was all so curious; curious and impressive. Amun created a guild while he was enrolled at the Bodhi Tree. Here, in his second year, he had evolved subordinates, which only implied he owned a divine tree. That alone was unprecedented. The fact that Telin's Champion was a Child of the Nox made it unbelievable, yet made it believable. Or rather, it made the prowess shown by this year's student monks make sense. Not even I made it through the Halls of Nydorden so quickly, although my son was another story. Regardless, it only made me wonder how quickly they could move through this tower.

Such wonders were replaced with curiosity upon seeing the youngest daughters of House Hun'ana waiting by the door. Staring with wide eyes, strangely, at Iris.

It seemed we had listeners.

No matter. I went on to explain that drow train in this tower throughout their lives. They came as children to learn the ways of drow might. Once they were of age, they evolved and returned to their duties in their respective Houses, returning only when their War Masters deemed them ready to ascend higher.

Again, Iris implied it was the same but different in their organization. Their members would train in their 'Dark Room' to evolve, then spend anywhere from a few months to a few years learning the ways of their path in addition to the occupation they've chosen; much like the Bodhi Tree. Afterward, they would return to further themselves in that Dark Room and its adjacent School of Excellency as they were promoted up the ranks. Not just in terms of might but in all aspects of the mind, body, spirit, and soul. Everything from the crafts to leadership and new languages.

Once before the great doors, I elected to change the subject to align with my duty. "I hear you arrived at the Halls above in exceptional condition and with fine martial skills," I said. "Who was your master? Your favored weapon? Fighting style?"

"From five to ten years old I was self-taught to fight with the spear, short blades, and unarmed," he said. "Although, if I had anyone who fit the bill of a trainer, it would have been my great-grandfather, the Necro King. I went to live in his tower when I was ten to learn lesser necromancy. I was also the executioner during my time there- those who face the death penalty must face us, Sovereigns of Death, in combat.

"I warred against the Necro King and his army for four years until I learned to walk with death, as is our custom." He said, looking at Iris with a glint of nostalgia, throwing implications all around.

"The Necro King." I echoed with an airy sigh, then took a look at the infamous mark on his chest. "That's a name known across the realms. As I am sure yours will be. You are Telin's Champion, after all."

He ignored my comment, thus marking the start of my spending two hours showing him the lowest and middle levels of the tower, bringing about a sight I thought I would never see. Not in him or any other drow. Enthusiasm. It was uncanny, the way he stared in wonder, claiming our courses to be 'efficient' while simultaneously pointing out the differences in this tower and their room of darkness.

We drow began training at whatever age we arrived at the tower's gates. Their Legionaries began training at the start of their evolutionary ritual, wherein they were placed in a cycle of death and rebirth. While ours began with an assessment followed by lessons in the fundamentals, theirs began with a much more extensive assessment before their training even began, because their ritual began with war.

While ours studied tactics, anatomy, and survival, theirs studied those things and the ways of Amun's 'Science, Technology, and Engineering.' While ours went to fall into the lifestyle of their desired class, theirs would fall into a lifestyle that met Amun's vague yet high standards. While we tested our students by bringing them on patrols through Zimysta's outlands, they tested their students by separating them from each other and the guild's support and reigniting the flames of war.

When their evolutions had been completed, our students were sent back to their Houses to operate according to their Matron's whims; theirs operated like the Bodhi Tree and sent the newly awakened to step further down their paths and master their occupations.

Above all the differences, though, there was one important similarity. We trained for combat, in combat. At all stages of development, our students fought against our excess slaves with steel weapons born from either their Houses or the tower. Their students, however, fought against those slain by Amun; those in Nydorden, Shujen, and around the Bodhi Peninsula, who'd been cursed into an eternal cycle of life and death inside the Darkroom, forever waiting to wage war against the new Legionaries.

Likewise, there were things so far beyond our imaginations they could hardly be believed. Their Legionaries- and all citizens of their empire, could never be isolated, manipulated, or even betray Amun; at least without him knowing, for they all were given clones made of darkness. These 'Doppelgangers' worked with them and continued working while they slept. They trained them, educated them, consoled them, and counseled them in the voice of their Eternal Emperor and theirs until their end of days.

Through this and their undead, every child, elder, innkeeper, street urchin, or ruler was trained to be formidable. Something we of the tower were granted a taste of. For four days, Amun used his sorcery to allow us to experience the growth that came from slaying those who could not die while in turn, being kept from dying entirely. But then came time for the end of our show and tell.

Then came the time for instruction.