by Demi Harper
‘Those colored markers represent your denizens,’ said Ket, though I’d already guessed as much. ‘The green dots are your Faithful. The gray ones are the regular gnomes.’
The gray dots vastly outnumbered the green ones. With a sinking feeling, I counted them up: there were eight green dots, all moving back and forth around my altar, and seventy-six gray ones, most of which were stationary and clustered in the tent village across the stream.
I looked away, trying to distract myself from the harsh confirmation of just how unpopular I still was, only for my attention to once more be drawn to the blue mana globes on the right side of my Augmentary.
The four globes were still empty, except for the bottom one, which contained the merest trickle of mana. I cursed how quickly the seconds I’d spent observing the kobolds’ lair had passed – and how dearly they’d cost me.
I was prevented from dwelling on this by the unexpected completion of the altar; unexpected, because it still looked to me like a wonky pile of rocks. However, I could tell the gnomes had finished building it from the ding that sounded from my Augmentary – and by the bizarre victory dance the eight gnomes then embarked on.
They stamped their feet and waved their arms, wriggling their bodies madly as though ants were invading their clothing, laughing all the while and slapping each other’s backs in congratulations.
‘They seem very pleased with themselves,’ I said sourly.
‘Why shouldn’t they be? They’ve just built you an altar. And it only took them a few hours!’
‘Call that an altar? Where’s the blood? The bones? The ominous carvings?’
‘I’m not sure you should be modeling your decor on that of the kobolds, Corey.’
She had a point.
Led by Gneil, the gnomes continued to dance, lining up one behind the other, hands on the waist of the gnome in front. They snaked round the altar in an endless circle, kicking their legs to the sides, tripping over each other’s heels and generally being foolish.
My annoyance at their irreverent behavior was slightly tempered by the sight of the Faith glowing brightly from their bodies; the green lights swirled dizzyingly as they danced around and around.
Two more gnomes, holding hands, wandered up from the village, no doubt to investigate the unholy din. When they saw the altar in all its wonky glory, the new couple swapped glances, then slowly knelt before my gem. To my delight, they began to emit both the green aura of Faith that came with belief, and the blue tendrils of mana that were a result of active worship. Their conversion brought me halfway to tier five.
Catching sight of the newly Faithful pair, Gneil seemed to sober up. He stopped dancing, and straightened his toga sheepishly. Then he knelt at the altar on the opposite side of the two praying gnomes.
Granny and the others quickly followed suit, dropping to their knees in the spaces beside Gneil to form a rough circle of worship. Ris’kin padded over to stand between the two new worshipers, placing a hand on each of their shoulders and half-closing her eyes contentedly.
The mana level inside my first globe began to visibly creep upward. I checked on my new map; instead of gray or green, ten blue dots now surrounded my altar.
So the dots turn to blue when they’re actively worshiping. Interesting. I suppose.
A minute later, the first mana globe was full.
Only three more to go.
‘Remind me why they needed an altar for this?’ I asked Ket.
‘Having a proper place to pray encourages worship. And any holy building refines the mana you gain from your worshipers. Look – the globes are filling faster.’ I looked, and had to admit my mana did look to be flowing a tiny bit faster than before, though that could simply have been down to having two extra worshipers.
Better than nothing, I suppose.
But Ket wasn’t done. ‘Best of all, an altar unlocks new possibilities. Take a look at your ability list.’
‘But I haven’t Ascended—’
‘Shh. Just look.’
After a moment’s fiddling with the Augmentary interface, I figured out how to flip between my map and my abilities. Sure enough, there was a new entry at the bottom of the list. That was odd. Up until now, I’d acquired new abilities only when I Ascended. Where had this one come from?
Vocation
Construction ability
Assign a denizen to take up an occupation.
‘Construction ability’? That was new.
Then I noticed a glowing symbol at the top of my Augmentary. It sat beside three others: a blue one, a silver one and a gold one, which I assumed represented my blueprints, abilities and map, respectively. This new symbol was white, and shaped like a… house? I focused on it, and translucent white symbols filled my vision, overlaid atop my regular view of the cavern. This new ‘page’ of the Augmentary was titled ‘Construction’, and a host of symbols were scattered across the page like stars.
Ooh – more new abilities?
Faint lines connected some symbols with others; they looked like the branches of trees, or – what had Ket called the star patterns earlier? Constellations, that was it.
Only one of the ‘stars’ – situated to the very left of the page – was actually glowing white. The others were a dull gray.
I focused on the white one. It grew clearer, and more symbols appeared below it in explanation. ‘Lumberyard,’ I read. ‘Tier one building. Processes felled timber into boards for use in construction.’ I paused, then read it again. And again. ‘What the… Ket, I think the Augmentary is broken.’
‘What’s wrong?’ She zoomed over to check. After an anxious moment, she said, ‘It looks fine to me.’
I mentally gestured toward the new page, the white symbols. ‘What is this supposed to be?’
‘These are your construction options,’ she replied, sounding puzzled. ‘Didn’t I explain this before? The higher you Ascend, the more influence you have over your denizens. The time has come to begin building a proper base for them! Isn’t that exciting?’
Fourteen
Laying the Foundations
‘Wait. You’re saying I have to build stuff?’
‘They will build it,’ Ket assured me, gesturing down toward the gnomes.
‘But—’
‘Corey,’ said the sprite, a note of warning in her voice. ‘You have a responsibility to these gnomes, remember? You can’t just pick and choose which aspects of this life to embrace and which to reject.’
I searched for a clever argument as to why I shouldn’t be made to endure such menial tasks as building. ‘I’m a god, you know,’ I told her.
‘You’re a God Core,’ she snapped. ‘Managing your denizens – including their settlement – is a vital part of your role. Better get used to it.’
I grumbled wordlessly, taken aback by Ket’s unusually harsh words but not wanting to show it.
‘Fine.’ I returned reluctantly to my Augmentary. ‘But where am I supposed to get timber from? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Ket, but we’re underground.’
She snorted. ‘Well spotted. However, timber doesn’t only grow on trees.’ She gestured pointedly toward the far corner of the cavern.
You can’t be serious.
‘Those mushrooms are my main source of ambient mana,’ I argued weakly. ‘I can’t cut them down!’
‘Corey, the mana you receive from them right now is negligible compared to the amount you’ll gain in worship once you’ve constructed proper homes for your denizens. Besides, they’ll grow back. Remember Growth? Well, it’s about to come in very useful. Just imagine: it’ll be glorious!’
Growing mushroom trees didn’t sound very glorious to me. Maybe it would be worth it in the end, but for now, it seemed like a demeaning task, drastically unsuited for a so-called god.
Still, Ket was supposedly the expert here. I’d continue following her advice… for now.
I looked again at the Lumberyard option. As I stared sulkily at the symbols, more appeared below the
m. I now read: ‘Material Costs: Trees x 6.’
In the Augmentary constellation, gray lines spidered from the Lumberyard out toward other nearby building options, all in gray rather than white. They showed only names and basic information when I tried to examine them.
‘Brickyard… Creche… Gnomehome… Mushroom Farm…’ I frowned. ‘Ket, these are useless. We need sword-makers! Armorers! Engineers!’
‘All in good time, Corey,’ assured Ket. ‘You’ll earn the option to construct those sorts of buildings eventually. For now, though, you have only a small following, and so your options are equally humble. You must use what’s available to you in order to please the Faithful you already have, and to make the other gnomes’ day-to-day lives more bearable. These buildings are exactly how you can achieve that.’
‘Ugh. And I’m assuming I won’t gain access to these other dwellings – the houses, and the brickyard and whatever else – until the lumberyard is built?’
‘You should never assume, Corey. But yes. You’ll need wooden boards in order to construct almost everything. And you can’t have boards without a lumberyard to produce them.’
‘Fine.’ I couldn’t be bothered to raise any arguments about the questionable logistics of all this. ‘How do I begin?’
I glared at the Construction page, waiting to be told what to do. However, Ket remained silent, expectant.
Ugh. Why must I figure everything out for myself?
I thought hard. To get boards, I needed timber. To get timber, I would need to somehow cut the mushrooms down…
Down by the altar, one of my worshipers had risen to his feet, brushing dirt from his knees. He wiped his hands on his toga and then wandered aimlessly away with a depressing lack of purpose.
Purpose…
In a flash of inspiration, I switched pages in my Augmentary and scanned down the list to my newest ability: Vocation.
‘”Assign a denizen to take up an occupation,”’ I read aloud.
Should be easy enough.
I focused on the wayward gnome, doing my best to convey an impression of him wielding an axe in order to cut down mushroom trees – or shroomtrees, as I now decided to call them. To my surprise, Augmentary-style symbols popped up beside the gnome, providing a short menu of occupations for me to choose from. I selected ‘lumberjack’ from the limited list, then waited.
The gnome’s steps faltered. Then he turned around and marched off decisively in the direction of the shroomtree patch.
‘Yes!’ Buoyed by triumph, I made to follow him, but Ket called me back.
‘Good job, Corey,’ she praised. ‘But don’t make the mistake of focusing on just one denizen to the exclusion of all else. Woodcutting isn’t a quick or easy task, so let’s leave him to get on with it. In the meantime, why don’t we find a use for some of your other followers?’
With the exception of Gneil, all the worshiping gnomes were beginning to rise to their feet, looking around as though they’d forgotten where they were. Annoyingly, my third mana globe was still only half full, and had stopped visibly filling now they were no longer worshiping.
Do all gnomes have such short attention spans, or is it just mine?
Ket had said to find a use for them, and I considered my options warily. Thanks to my sojourn in the kobold dungeon, I was suddenly aware of how few worshipers I had compared to that red God Core. Even though I was irritated by how generally useless my followers were, it seemed more than a little impractical to throw them away on a futile – no, suicidal – raid.
Looking back at my abilities list gave me an idea.
‘Why don’t we send some of them to scout?’ I suggested.
Ket pondered this. ‘That’s not a bad idea, Corey. They may well return with some useful flora or fauna for your blueprint collection.’
I didn’t need her to tell me it was a good idea. I already knew. And yet…
I watched the gnomes loitering by the altar. Their green auras of Faith made up but a tiny proportion of my pathetic settlement, but they were all I had. What if I sent them away only for them to blunder into some sort of danger? I couldn’t really afford to lose any of my meager sources of Faith or intermittent mana, especially now I’d sent my new lumberjack to cut down those mushrooms instead of worshiping me.
Then I had an idea. ‘Can I send the non-worshipers? I don’t want to risk wasting any decent gnomes. My Faith levels are pitiful enough already.’
She hesitated. ‘Well… you could send non-Faithful denizens, I suppose, but I wouldn’t recommend—’
‘Great!’
I zoomed across the stream to the shantytown where the gnomes dwelt. They lurked among their shabby hide tents, alternately muttering to themselves and staring silently at the ground. Some kept glancing suspiciously over at the altar and the Faithful gnomes gathered there.
Two of the female village gnomes were still attempting without success to light a fire; one of them was banging two pieces of shroomtree wood together while the other poked at some moss-colored kindling with a stick.
When I selected the Scout option for each of the female gnomes, I was surprised to feel resistance; both gnomes’ thoughts were torpid, muddy, and pushing through them with my Scouting instructions felt like wading through a quagmire.
I was also unpleasantly surprised to note that my third mana globe, barely filled, had begun to drain once more, and cursed myself for forgetting that unlike Vocation, Scout was a mana-based ability, as the Augmentary had told me.
The ability drained most of my second mana globe before it finally stopped. I tried not to feel resentful of the cost, instead eagerly awaiting the results.
Unlike the Faithful lumberjack, who’d set to his new purpose straight away, these two gnomes stood reluctantly; one of them kicked feebly at a nearby rock and missed, while the other just scratched her head.
‘Go and scout!’ I told them, but they paid me no heed.
After a few moments’ muttering between themselves, they finally turned and trudged off toward the tunnel. I suspected it extremely unlikely that they would return with anything of use.
Well, it was too late to go back now. Though using Scout had cost a lot of mana, at least I wouldn’t lose any Faith – or be affected at all, really – if anything happened to these two.
Meanwhile, my new lumberjack – whom I decided to name Elwood – was hard at work in the mushroom patch. He’d cobbled together an axe from a strip of dead wood and a sharp, flat stone, lashed together with some sort of twine Ket informed me was made from mushroom gills.
He was swinging the axe with wild abandon, his target – a particularly tall, skinny mushroom – already riddled all over with small dents. Little Elwood was trying hard, but he wasn’t managing to land any of his blows even remotely near to each other.
‘You seem annoyed, Corey.’
‘You’ve turned me into a glorified mushroom farmer. Of course I’m annoyed.’
‘Just wait,’ said Ket. ‘Once we get the lumberyard built, you’ll be able to assign more gnomes to more tasks. Have patience.’
‘Patience is all well and good, except that this fool will probably still be chopping the same shroomtree ten years from now.’
Realizing that this might not actually be an exaggeration, I sought out more gnomes to send in to help the little lumberjack. Randomly choosing another non-Faithful from the village, I engaged Vocation and chose the ‘lumberjack’ option, just like I had with Elwood.
However, this time I encountered the same mental resistance as I had when attempting to command the two female gnomes with Scout. After a few moments’ struggle, my second lumberjack bent to pick up the stick dropped by one of the female scouts – presumably the beginnings of his new axe – and wandered sullenly over toward the mushrooms, dragging his feet.
Not ideal, but it will do for now… until I figure out a way to whip them into shape.
I winced as the thought recalled images of Barka the kobold commander, whipping his subordinate. Th
en I paused. Another memory came to me: Granny, jabbing Gneil in the chest and dragging him away to dig in the mushroom patch. It gave me an idea.
I returned to my altar and looked around for Granny. She was grooming a sulky-looking Ris’kin using a comb that looked to be made out of fish bones. Every time she ran into a burr in the avatar’s fur she’d spit into her hand and work it clear, then continue combing. She was currently sitting astride Ris’kin’s tail, smoothing the tip of it, while Ris’kin sat with furred arms folded, her pointed nose in the air facing away from Granny.
You can thank me later, I thought to Ris’kin as I directed Vocation upon Granny. This time, I selected the ‘overseer’ option from the list.
Overseer
Vocation type: general
Pre-requisite: altar
An overseer takes charge of day-to-day activities, ensuring work is carried out efficiently. This includes managing denizens of all vocation types, including military and construction, with holy being the sole exception.
For good measure, I tried my best to convey an impression of Granny supervising other workers, directing their efforts and occasionally poking them with her knobbly staff whenever they attempted to slack off.
Unlike the non-Faithful gnomes, Granny was pleasantly – and surprisingly – pliable. She immediately abandoned her combing of Ris’kin’s tail, picked up her staff and began hobbling after the second lumberjack. I had little doubt that with my new overseer on the case, the reluctant woodcutter would soon be hard at work whether he wanted to be or not.
Though I felt some satisfaction at successfully experimenting with both Scout and Vocation, I couldn’t help but feel a little cheated at having to engage in such menial micro-management. When I’d Observed the kobold base, that red God Core had had dozens of denizens – hundreds, even, many of whom had been bringing flesh-and-blood offerings that would increase their Core’s power. I hadn’t seen any evidence of lumberyards down there, or any sign at all of the enemy god getting its hands dirty, so to speak.
