On Astral Tides: From Humble Freelancer To Astral Emperor

The kobold grasped the pickaxe in furry paws and slammed it down into the rocks that were softly illuminated by the lanterns strung up on wires across the tunnels. The reassuring shock of impact jolted him, and he struck again and again, chips of rock flying, and the motion was echoed by many other kobolds, all busily working away, with pickaxes, hammers, shovels and more.

“Look-see, nice treasures!” one barked excitedly, pulling free a number of nuggets of shining metal.

“Yes-good, keep digging and we will find more!” A Foreman barked happily, and after keeping some for himself, the kobold tossed the rest into a mine-cart, to be taken away. With renewed vigour at his comrade’s find, the kobold continued to hack at the rocks, striking until his paws were tingling and his muscles were aching with a warm, reassuring glow. It was good to mine, without being forced into it like slaves, grubbing in the dirt, as had happened to the kobolds too many times in the recent past.

As he was thinking this, his pickaxe shattered the rocks in front of him, striking metal with a delightful ring. Excited, his eyes opened wide, and he bent down to brush aside the scattered debris, only to be greeted by a most welcome sight, glittering silver-blue metal ores, as well as some shiny blue gems, not sapphires, but something more precious.

“What happy-joy! Bluesteel ore, bluestones!” he barked, delighted, and that drew over many more kobolds, as well as a few other workers, mostly dwarves, who now had their own mines, but sometimes went into the kobold ones, when searching for specific resources.

“Most impressive, quite the find-haul!” the Foreman barked. “Bluesteel is highly-most sought after. Much rewards, many praise!”

The kobold grinned, showing his canines. “Yes-quite. But the bluestones are best of all!” To kobolds, bluestones were lucky, and a favourite courting gift. Taking his share, the kobold then passed the rest of the ore and bluestones to the cart. It was amazing that they were allowed to keep a decent share of their treasures, not being worked like slaves, and as another kobold began to wheel out the full cart, the kobold went back to work, seeing if his luck would hold and further treasures would be unearthed before the end of his shift today, when perhaps he would go see a kobold specialised in crafting, or perhaps a dwarf, and see if he could have a necklace made, as there was a kobold he had his eye on, and her fur was as soft as silk, her laugh infectious and her manners kind….

********

Pushing the heavily-laden cart along the tracks, the kobold watched many of his kin come and go. It was strange seeing so many from different clans working the mine, as usually the kobolds tried to hide, to be beneath notice of the pure-blooded Fae that ruled the Seelie Court. Seeing the occasional ratkin or weaselkin in the mine was enough to make the kobold tremble a little, but he soon steeled himself, knowing that other than a bit of disdain, he wouldn’t suffer any worse fate.

“Well, that looks a fine load.” One ratkin said, coming over. He was wearing goggles and heavy overalls, as well as thick gloves. Even so, his exposed fur and skin was singed and stinking. Instinctively, the kobold panicked, seeing the presence of a beastkin Fae, even one from a reviled group like the ratkin, before he remembered where he was.

“Yes, not bad-terrible.” The kobold barked nervously. “Many ores and gems. Some shinies too.” He said, referring to a number of red and orange Etherites that had been unearthed.

“Great, great, good work.” the ratkin rubbed his gloved hands together, tail lashing happily. “We can barely keep up with demand right now, even with all the other mines. Did you get any bluesteel ore?” he asked, and the kobold barked agreement.

“Excellent. If I could trouble you to bring it to the workshop area, that would be appreciated. Boss Ixitt has a new prototype that needs a ton of it…” with that the ratkin strode off, leaving the kobold to sigh in relief. The relief was short-lived though, as another voice soon spoke out.

“Well, that was rather interesting a conversation.”

The kobold nearly released his mine-cart in panic, before calming down. “You startled-scared me!” he protested, ashamed. Nothing bad had happened since he and his fellow clansman had emigrated from the backwaters of the Seelie court. In fact they had been welcomed warmly by other clans, and the Fae here did nothing. Even so, old fears still lingered, and it would take quite some time before the kobolds and other persecuted creatures of the Court who had found their way here could fully trust true Fae.

Beholding the speaker, he paused, astonished. The figure was a kobold, yes, but not one of the canine kobolds that made up the vast majority of the population, but… blinking in surprise, the kobold muttered a few words. “To see one such as yourself here, a pure, high kobold…”

“I hardly was expecting to be here myself. There are so very few of us left.” The small, dust-covered man said, looking like a dwarf at first glance, though on closer inspection one would see that his proportions were less short and stocky, and more childlike and thin. The man wore dusty overalls and was carrying a lantern that burned with a flickering indigo glow. “No need to be nervous. We don’t look down on the clans who… who changed.”

The kobold whimpered a little at that. It was the change that had relegated the kobolds to little more than persecuted toys and slaves to the stronger, purer Fae. Others had changed as well, such as goblins. Few of the old race were left, and they were far more furtive than even the kobolds, though he had seen some lurking within this Territory…

“No need to be shamed.” The high kobold soothed. “I came because I heard rumours many kobolds made this land their home, and they were happy here, free from tyranny. I see you are still mining. Good. I like the mines.” The high kobold smiled, and for a moment his skin looked stony, but that was perhaps a trick of the flickering lantern-light. “So, tell me, how does my estranged kin fare?” He reached down into the cart and sorted through the ores and gems. “Are you being worked unfairly, exploited?”

“No not-never.” The kobold declared, still somewhat awestruck to meet such a rare kin here, of all places. “We pay tithe yes, but we get to keep-claim much, and we have homes to live, security. Fun.” The kobold sometimes watched the weaselkin musicians practice, and despite his fear of weaselkin, he found the music beautiful. “Good food for all, safety too.”

“I see.” The high kobold let the ore drop from his fingers. “Well, perhaps I shall… dig a little deeper… and see what else I can find out…”

********

“Yes, great, over there!” the ratkin, one of the many mortal engineers under Ixitt, one of his numerous sons, gestured to the loading area that had been constructed. As the kobold emptied out the many metals and ores onto the large flat surface, other ratkin, weaselkin and dwarves began to sort the metals and ores, sending important ores to be worked with Alchemy, while the metals were sent down a different track for immediate use.

As the kobold retreated, his task complete, the ratkin had already forgotten him, like his father, one to get engrossed in his work to the exclusion of all else. Gathering up the bluesteel ores within, he quickly carried it to the first testing area, where the earlier prototypes of the Alchemy machine were waiting, attended to by numerous mortal engineers of many different races.

With his chest puffed with pride, the ratkin was delighted to be part of what was surely the largest single gathering of mortal engineers in the lands of the Fae. Well, he amended, adjacent to the Fae, at least. It had even gathered some foxkin and other inquisitive Fae, and while some had worried they might be spies, trying to steal secrets and sabotage the efforts towards progress, his father had declared them to be trustworthy, true seekers towards enlightenment, scientists and mortal engineers all, so they had been accepted. So far there had been no issues.

“Great, more ore!” one dwarf said, eager, rushing over to see the spoils. “That’n be bloody excellent. T’last load was diverted tae Master Bjarki’s forge, workin’ on weapons for t’princess and the boss man. About time we be getting’ our share, right?” His grin was broad, and the ratkin couldn’t help but agree, though obviously they were secondary to the needs of the Territory owners.

“Well, that’s why it’s good that we have so many miners nowadays. I never thought I’d be glad to see so many kobolds and dwarves about. More miners, more resources!”

“Yes, I am quite-quite ashamed myself.” One weaselkin engineer said happily. The ratkin had worked with him before, as he was one of the group that Prince Shaetanao, the father of the princess here, had fostered, but with father and daughter reunited, the ability to come and go was taken for granted, as everyone knew how overly doting the Prince was towards his youngest child, and the mortal engineers were taking advantage of that to join Ixitt’s grand schemes.

“Father always did say that just as it was foolish to revile all ratkin merely because Sheshelob had led most of us in rebellion and into the arms of the Unseelie…” The ratkin said wryly. “It is as foolish and destructively ignorant to denigrate goblins, kobolds and others who have changed over the centuries…”

“To think that stubborn, spoilt brat of a princess was-was the one to bring in all these diverse Fae.” The weaselkin chuckled, knowing well the bad temper and legendary arrogance of Shaeula Tu Shae Dannan. “She has most-most definitely changed.”

“Father says so as well. Master Ulfuric too. Well, it might be because of her chosen husband. Father says he is rather fascinating. I’ve barely had chance to speak to him, more’s the pity.”

“Well, mortals do have some strange ideas. Speaking of Boss Ixitt, where is he? I would have thought he’d be here for the next-next round of testing.”

“Apparently father has returned to the mortal world. Damn, I wish I could go as well.” The ratkin complained. “It sounds like there is so much to see and learn. These guns we are making, they are inspired by mortal weapons, yet apparently they are feeble in comparison to the best mortals can achieve.”

“I wonder why-why Boss Ixitt is not here? After all, his experiments on creating lightning are most important to him.” The weaselkin engineer complained as the modified prototype of the Alchemy equipment was brought over. It was a strange boxy device, in which the materials to be purified and separated were placed. The bluesteel ore was put within, and the sides, inlaid with shards of Etherites and also strange, twisted patterns of metal threads, lit up as the mortal engineers poured in their aether.

“I hear he has found someone interesting to converse with….” The ratkin mopped at his sodden fur as the device activated, the Etherite shards glowing, several of them shattering explosively. “…by the moons, another partial failure.” The ore had been purified, the bluesteel and other metals within separated out, and it was noticeably more efficient than Alchemy alone, but even so, it was too often breaking for continual use.

“I guess that is why-why Boss Ixitt wishes the lightning? Do you understand it?”

“I am afraid not. Father explained, but I don’t quite get it. Oh well… at least the bluesteel is ready for the weapon manufactory…” Putting down the steaming box, noticing that in addition to the shattered crystals, some of the wires had snapped, melting away, he sighed. ”I’ll go and see if we can find any more Etherites we can requisition, you work on replacing the… circuits, I think father called them?”

As his fellow mortal engineer waved him off with a bitter snort, he found himself wondering just who his father could have found that was interesting enough to keep him away from all the advances in mortal engineering here…

********

Quaela, the ratkin maid-in-training, headed towards the Rhyming Tree to rendezvous with her fellow maids, her steps dragging as she passed the haughty-looking and ill-omened raven-haired elf who oversaw some of the military planning in the Territory. Scores of weaselkin and ratkin were lining up in strange formations, armed with many of the strange new weapons her dad had put together. Shaking her head as she passed, she felt bad thinking of the elf as unfortunate, merely because of her hair colour, even if that was traditional. Her dad had often mentioned that lazy stereotyping and clinging to pathetic mysticism was going to be the downfall of the Fae.

Under the shadow of the colossal Tree, she could see many of the large bees that inhabited the Territory were buzzing about, pollinating the large orchards and many pretty flowering plants and medicinal herbs that were growing there. A tall, red-haired figure was talking to the bees like they were pets, patting one occasionally, offering others water.

“Good, yes, keep it up. There’s plenty more nectar available. And Akio really liked your honey. So I’d be most grateful if you could… oh, yes, I don’t mind.” Somehow the Dryad was interpreting the buzzing and also the sweeping of the reflective wings. “Another hive here would be fine, so long as you don’t bother those who are busy.” The Dryad’s smile was kind, and for a moment Quaela was lost in watching her, before she realised her mistake and bit back a curse. Clutching the hem of her maid outfit, so unlike the ones back at Court, yet very pretty, so that she could run unimpeded, she was going to try and make a break for it when she spotted a familiar face, and called out, waving.

“Brother, over here a second!”

At her call, the mortal engineer, bundled in thick gloves, coat and goggles, rushed over.

“Quaela, sister, what do you need? I’m in a hurry, I need more Etherites, the Alchemy Box blew up again.”

“I don’t care about your stupid box.” She sniffed, letting her hem fall, hands on hips. “If I wanted to be a mortal engineer I would be, like you and my other brothers and sisters. No, I need you to check if Head Maid Hyacinth is in the orchard. I know she likes to grow things there, and … I don’t want to run into her.”

Her brother gave Qualia quite the exasperated look, as if to say that she was wasting her time doing something foolish, before agreeing. A minute later he was back, saying there was no sign of her. Relieved, Qualia dashed towards the Rhyming Tree, hurrying through the orchard, waving at her brother. “Thanks. I owe you one!”

Not paying attention to his muttered complaints, she reached the Tree and started leaping up the wooden steps that spiralled around it, until she reached the top, where a stunning view of the Territory greeted her, as well as soft, pleasant music, the weaselkin musicians under Tillyae practicing some strange melodies, which sounded nothing like traditional Fae songs.

“Ah, there you are, Velna, Klena.” Qualia saw her instructors sitting at a table towards the edge of the… café, it was called, she believed. Glancing around, she could see various Fae seated on tables, enjoying rest and relaxation from their daily labours, while others served them drinks and delicious-smelling food. Taking a seat, she let out a long, relieved sigh. Moments later a server came over, and soon she was drinking a refreshing blend of juices, and eating some sort of tasty vegetable stew.

“Exhausted, I see. Well, it must have been tough-tough, waiting on the princess and the master.” Klena commiserated her. “To say nothing of standing before mighty Primal Forest.”

“Really, that was fine. From what I can see, the princess and he won’t punish us too harshly if we make mistakes. He won’t.” she slurped at her juice, careful not to spill any on her uniform. “Really, how can you stay calm around Head Maid Hyacinth. She’s really scary!”

The two weaselkin maids exchanged glances, grinning. “Yes, she is indeed-indeed.” Velna agreed. “Back at the mansion, when… when everything went wrong, I worried that she would kill-kill us many times. She takes serving so seriously…”

“It is her whole life-life.” Klena agreed. “Even now she is one of the master’s concubines. She could be pampered like the princess, but-but…”

“I think she needs to serve to hold onto herself.” Velna finished. “Do not-not judge her too harshly, as we did. She is quite kind, so long as you do your best. And if danger threatens, you would be glad-glad to have her…”

“Yes, she is a combat maid of old-old.” Klena laughed. “So, while it is just us, let me ask you something.”

“All right.” Quaela agreed, observing the residents from above. The army was still drilling, smoke was rising from the factories and workshops, everywhere she looked Fae were going about their lives, always busy, but seemingly without oppression. “Ask away.”

“I wonder why did-did you choose to be a maid? It is not an easy role.” Velna said, a touch of pride in her voice. “After all, we serve the rulers of this Territory, and if we perform badly, well, the Head Maid is ruthless.”

“Yes-yes. We were bad maids, and were lucky to have a second chance.” Klena said, eyes distant, perhaps remembering something horrible, and Quaela recalled the dark rumours she had heard about the princess and her maids.

“There are many other tasks that you could do. Like helping out in the…”

“No way!” she protested. “I’m not following dad and most of my family into mortal engineering! It’s dirty and messy and painful. At least being a maid I get to wear pretty outfits and keep myself groomed. Besides…” she grinned. “Isn’t a maid important? You’re trusted with secrets few others know, able to be a part of your lord or lady’s life. I’ve got ambitions! I’m going to be somebody! Dad can keep his explosions and his toys, I’ll work my way up in my own way!” she chewed her lip then, a little frustrated. “Though dad was delighted when he heard. It annoys me a lot!”

“Oh. I see.” Klena smiled. “I do not-not think you need to worry overmuch. The master does not seem interested in us.”

“But Hyacinth is ravished by him regularly…” Velna pouted, eyes distant.

“Surely you don’t want him to…” Quaela said, surprised, and she jolted, startled out of her reverie.

“No-no, of course not. I was just remembering something shameful. Yet necessary. It all worked out. Klena came back, even if the others…”

“Well, this gloomy mood just won’t do!” Quaela declared, waving. “More drinks. Something stronger!” she cried, and soon they had mugs placed in front of them by one of the servers, a short, human-like figure, looking a bit like a child, with pale green skin and small horns at his temples. As he left, she pursed her lips. “That’s a goblin, right? You don’t see many that still have their sanity nowadays.”

“Yes, all-all you hear about are the twisted fiends of the Unseelie, the cannibals, frenzied warriors and abominable perverts…” Velna agreed. “Though clearly not all goblins have fallen, just like the trolls and giants. A few remain true.”

“Well, enough of that.” Qualia chugged at her foamy mug, warmth permeating her. “Do you think we’ll be called upon, or do we have some free time? I’d love to go see some of the other sights this Territory has to offer.”

“I think it will be fine-fine. The Head Maid said master had other important matters to attend to, that did not-not require us.” Klena drank as well. “You know, apparently this is just-just the beginning. The princess says this is modelled on a high-class hotel skyscraper bar, whatever that is. They have plans for a casino, a concert hall, which I guess is some sort of place to hear music…” she glanced at the still-practising musicians. “… and more. One thing is certain. They do not want-want the Fae who dwell here to be bored.”

“Not just Fae, right? Yokai too. I’ve seen them. Those cats…” she shuddered. ”… something about cats always scares me. Then there’s the bees, and I hear we have living trees too, as well as other races. Plenty of mortals come and go as well. I saw them earlier, but I was too nervous to approach them. I don’t know how dad goes amongst them. Don’t you think that’s odd? How can so many groups live in harmony?”

“Because of a vision. The princess is Fae nobility, and of Yokai royalty too. The master, he is the ruler of this domain, and a man of influence. You see some of the mortals, but some-some that the master loves, they are nobles of the mortal world.” Velna declared. “Together, they want to create their own world. And having conquered the Spring of Clear Reflections, who can-can deny them?”

“Yeah. My dad is crazy for them. Ugh, do either of you know what electricity is? Dad was raving about it last time I saw him, saying it was the answer to all his problems. Ugh…” she finished her drink, calling for another. “I’m glad we get paid, so I can relax like this. I didn’t think servants got paid. Do you?”

“Before, it was the honour of serving, but now we are told a fair day of work requires a fair compensation.” Klena recited, and a booming, gurgling laugh came from an unlikely source, a troll sitting on another table. It was devouring a massive chunk of meat, likely culled from some sort of massive insect, the type that plagued the borders of the Territory.

“If troll want to eat, troll must hunt. Now troll hunt, eat and get fed again. Me happy!” he grunted, before drinking from a massive, half-barrel sized tankard.

“Even trolls can see it, it seems. I’m more and more impressed.” Qualia laughed, slightly tipsy. “Well, now that the Head Maid is away, let’s play! I can’t believe dad was all I wanted to offer Akio a few of my daughters, but he said no, well done on burying the moat!” her snort was bitter. “I’m not doing it for that! Though…” taking another large swig, she glanced up at the silvery skies, lightning flashing across it. “…anyone who can build this little empire is worth taking seriously. Especially if they can make my crazy dad take notice…”

********

The goblin nodded politely to the weaselkin who was in charge of the café, before scurrying off, his shift over, arms full with a large wrapped package. Once at the base of the Rhyming Tree, the goblin hurried past the groups of many different Fae and other species, heading deeper into the Territory, where he dwelt in a small, yet cosy room. Reaching the door, he checked to see nobody was around, then he knocked several times in a pattern.

Moments later the door opened, revealing more goblins, a dozen of them. Stepping inside he shut the door, before producing some leftovers he had been given after his shift from the heavy bundle. The goblins fell on them greedily, devouring them.

“I have been here for weeks now.” The goblin said, a little exasperated, but unable to contradict the chieftain and his allies, who had taken shelter in his house, entering the Territory unnoticed, and making no effort to join in with any construction or other work. “The Fae, they do not oppress anyone, other than their haughty attitude, all are treated the same.”

“It is too soon to be complacent. The princess that rules here is a fickle creature who hates lesser races. It is known.” The chieftain spat when he was finished with his scraps.

“It is known.” The others echoed.

“Well, I think she has changed, or the rumours were wrong.” The goblin said. “She even complimented me once when I served her a drink, I saw no disdain in her eyes. Besides, you should reveal yourselves. There are other goblins here too. We are not numerous, not anymore. We should…”

“Those are fallen clans. Not fallen like the vile twisted creatures that were once our brothers and sisters, no, but they have no… no link to the first goblin.” The chieftain shook his head.

The goblin who was hosting them sighed. “Maybe not, but I have seen unruly trolls or drunk weaselkin be punished for causing trouble or injuring kobolds. I think what I have seen and learned is proof enough. And I cannot continue to support you all, I am drawing suspicion already, when I asked for leftovers. Please, by the first goblin, just at least work.”

The chieftain frowned. “Well, you are one of us. I shall remain hidden, for I still guard the sacred treasure, our link to the first goblin. You others…” he gestured to his entourage. “Go with him and do what you need to.”

Somewhat relieved, but still a little irked the chieftain was shirking his responsibilities, the goblin bowed. “I shall take them to one of the Kamaitachi who organise such immigrants. As warriors, perhaps you might wish to fight, or…” as the goblin ushered them out, he barely heard the words of the chieftain as the door shut behind them.

“… hope this is a place we can trust. The treasure, it is not safe. Soon we shall have to move it again, and our options are limited…”