The Toll-Road to Immortality - Interlude 1 (Patreon)

This interlude is meant to go after Chapter 9 and boy was I excited for y'all to see it. I had a great time writing this chapter, and hope you all enjoy reading it!

Athena Ergane, Eleventh among Equals, hung in the vast expanse of unreality her people had named the Ninth Great Sea like an alabaster statue. A delicate-looking fractal tiara of blue crystal like branching lightning frozen in glass adorned her brow and she wore an unadorned chiton of linen so white it made her pale skin seem dark in comparison. Boiling primordial chaos, an infinite, featureless expanse of everything and something and nothing at all, tore at her body and garments, but found no purchase. Her flesh was her will given form, inviolable, and her tiara and chiton were too real to be dissolved by such tepid currents. 

She waited for what felt like an age to her consciousness but was only truly an instant, her senses sweeping the endless Sea around her like the beacon of a lighthouse––in equal parts invitation and surveillance. Her eyes and spirit felt muted here, like she stood in a thick fog. Faint tremors reached her through the turbulent non-waters, echoes of events far beyond her sight. From the peak of the Final Mountain, she could see all the world from the City at the Foot of the Mountain to the far banks of the Sixth Sea––her sight near unmatched, but in this place she felt as blind as a mortal woman. 

Despite her vigilance, she only spotted her target when he was already right in front of her. A man in dark armor edged in silver stepped out from deeper waters like a shadow, a mantle of mottled orange hide around his shoulders. In one hand he carried a staff of living wood, delicate white and pastel blue flowers blooming along its length, and in the other a roughly-hewn stone blade as long as her forearm. 

It was an impressive, intimidating show of strength. Few things could survive in the shallowest stretches of the Ninth Sea, and fewer still in its deeper reaches. Athena was certain her tiara could withstand such a trip, perhaps better than her own flesh could even, but her chiton, a priceless treasure in its own right, would not persist for long. 

This man traveled confidently with no less than five such treasures––a hoard that spoke of deep pockets and great strength.

Though he had snuck up on her, Athena did not allow any sign of surprise to show on her face or her spirit. She watched the man with cool, placid focus, her arms folded behind her back and her lips pursed. After a moment of consideration, she recrossed her arms under her chest. “Conqueror,” she greeted the man.

“Divine Athena,” he acknowledged her back, his voice shockingly soft and almost melodious for a man with a reputation such as his. She knew that at the levels they both operated, how one presented themself had more to do with desire and belief than anything so quaint as biology. It said a lot about how this man saw himself that his voice would sound so…unassuming. 

Though undoubtedly the weaker party, he had invited her to meet. Thus, Athena took the initiative. “Why have you called me here, Conqueror?” she asked directly, uninterested in the games played by the weak. “Do not think that I shall be one of your pawns. My people have no quarrel with yours, but nor shall we scurry in fright from your approach. You should know better than to think your armies a match for mine within the bounds of my realm, nor presume to defeat me and mine united in purpose.”

“Why, you wound me, Divine Athena. I have nothing but the greatest respect for the Twelve Thrones. I wouldn’t dream of presuming to treat you like a pawn.”

Lightning flickered across Athena’s marble skin. “You respect nothing but strength, Conqueror. All creation knows it.”

The man spread his arms, hands held palm up with his staff and blade balanced on his fingers. “Perhaps it is so, but what is the harm in that? Are you not strong, Eleventh?”

In her youth, countless millennia ago when she was still new to her power and authority and eager to prove herself, such an address would have left her bristling with anger and indignation. But she was old now, her fire tempered by conflict and accord. She was Eleventh, but she stood as one among Equals.

She turned away, showing the man her back. She did not need her eyes to see. “If you have come only to bandy words and insults, begone Conqueror. Bring your armies, if you dare. They shall break upon the Eternal Mountain as all others have.”

His voice gained a seductive purr. “Oh Divine Athena, leaving so soon? Aren’t you curious about why I sought you out?” The words hung in the air, charged with authority that resonated with her own. It did not clash against her will, but slithered around her like a great serpent, visible only by the shadow it cast on the oblivion in which they met. 

Athena Ergane had had enough.

The chaos around her became. She stood on the summit of a great glass mountain, the peak sheared off to form a vast flat expanse. Twelve thrones of marble and gold stood around her in a half circle and a fire burned with golden flames beneath her. Marble columns taller and thicker than the greatest of the First Land’s trees and carved with scenes of myth, legend, and history held up a roof beneath which clouds swirled. A spear found its way into her hand, its haft golden-brown olive wood and its blade a whirring mechanical shadow. 

Conqueror's working shattered, unable to exist in the reality she imposed upon the Ninth Sea. She turned to face him, her chiton blowing in a warm spring breeze and fire flickering around her bare feet. “Am I to take this as a declaration of war, Conqueror?”

Conqueror stood only a scant arms length away, arms held loosely at his sides and posture utterly at ease. The glass beneath his feet flickered from clear diamond to scorched earth and no breeze stirred the petals on his staff. “A declaration of war? Why, I never! Just a little something to get your attention, Divine Athena.”

“You have it.”

“Well then, are you not curious why I, the Great Conqueror, have reached out to you, Athena Ergane, directly rather than the Twelve Thrones as a whole?”

There was no working this time, or at least none that Athena could direct. Though she would not admit it to the man himself, she was indeed curious. Curious enough to come and meet with him alone, even, far enough away from the First Mountain that it would take time for her peers to reach her if things came to blows. 

She said none of that, simply watching the man with feigned indifference. A moment passed, then another. Eventually, he seemed to realize that she would not rise to his taunts.

“Oh fine, be like that,” he scoffed. The blade in his left hand suddenly vanished, replaced a moment later by a small, round object approximately the size of an eye and covered tiny bumps and ridges. Athena identified it as the pit of some manner of stone fruit, perhaps a peach, though the color was wrong. This pit looked like it was cast from gold, without a single flaw or imperfection. “Do you know what this is, Divine Athena?”

She stared at him for a long moment, but saw no harm in answering. “The stone of some manner of fruit, I would imagine. If you plan to offer me delicacies, know I have no need for such things. The fields of the First Land are lush and verdant.”

“Oh, but this isn’t just any peach pit. Look closer, look closer.” He extended his arm out towards her, pulling his will back a fraction to expose the tiny golden stone to her full senses. The moment he did, she understood what he meant.

“A living Origin Relic,” she whispered, momentarily stunned. “And one born of a Great World, if I am not very much mistaken.” She reflexively reached towards it, the profound energy radiating off the seed more alluring than any mortal joy she had ever experienced. 

Conqueror pulled his hand back, his will snapping back around the seed, cutting off her perception of its power. “Nah, nah, nah,” he chided, “none of that, now.”

She pulled her hand back as though he’d slapped her. “I am not a child,” she snapped, regretting her words a moment after she’d said them. 

Though his face was covered, she could practically see the man’s smile. “Then don’t act like one, Divine Athena. Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to touch what isn’t yours?”

“You certainly never learned that lesson,” she challenged back. 

“Well, yes. But I’m me, and you’re you. The difference is important.”

Though she hadn’t had to breath in more years than most beings had lived, Athena took a deep breath of cool mountain air to steady herself, fragrant smoke from the flames beneath her rising to tickle her nostrils. “I have no doubt you did not show me such a treasure on a whim, Conqueror.” Just knowing that the man possessed such a treasure gave her some measure of power over him. He was powerful, perhaps beyond the means of her and hers to slay, but there were greater powers in the universe than they, and plenty interested in a priceless treasure such as the living seed of an Origin Relic. 

The man’s jovial attitude slipped away as quickly as it had appeared. “I did not. Tell me, Divine Athena. Where do you think I came across such a treasure?”

“In the course of your conquests, I would presume, but your question leads me to believe otherwise.”

The man barked a laugh, and for an instant the patch of scorched earth beneath his feet nearly doubled in size before it was once more overtaken by glass. The faint but unmistakable scent of burning flesh and freshly spilled blood brushed across her senses, reminding her of just who stood before her. “I really walked into that one. You’d think so, right? But nope. Try again.”

Athena frowned, choosing to show a fraction of emotion on her face. “The markets of Tel’Var’Ton then, or Zeria Five.” Few would be willing to part with a treasure of such caliber at any price, but Conqueror's vaults were deep indeed, filled with the plunder of dozens of lesser worlds. Perhaps he had indeed managed to tempt someone. 

“Wrong again!” Her frown deepened and he elaborated. “As a matter of fact, the credit goes not to me, but to one of my subordinates.” He cupped his hand over his mouth as if to whisper, “I promise I rewarded him handsomely.”

Conqueror turned the peach pit slowly over in his hand, rolling the glossy stone across his armored fingers. Despite herself, Athena felt her gaze drawn inevitably to the pit, temptation warring with caution in her heart. 

If Conqueror noticed her covetous stare, he made no mention of it, continuing his story. “In the course of his duties, my subordinate discovered a grotto world that had become untethered in the void, slowly dissolving. He became curious how such a minor realm had managed to last as long as he had and chose to investigate, and oh how glad I am that he did.”

Conqueror’s fist closed over the peach pit and it vanished, returned to the vaults where he stored his greatest treasures. “On a tiny patch of land barely large enough to sustain it he found a single peach…and the living tree on which it grew.”

A thrill of desire shook Athena’s spirit, and she was sorely tempted to call her peers to her then and there. Not just a pit, Conqueror possessed a whole living tree! With the addition of such a relic, the advancement of the Realm of Mountains and Seas would accelerate significantly! Perhaps it could even become a true Great World in time! And if she could plant it in one of her Temple-Cities, would she not soon be Second among Equals?

Caution, and the utter confidence Conqueror radiated, stilled her hand. He would not be telling her any of this if he expected them to leave this place as foes.

“Of course I was thrilled by his discovery, but I was not fully content to leave things at that. After all, what sort of grotto world includes such a profound relic? And so I investigated. At great expense I tracked the path of that little grotto, and what do you think I found, Wise Athena?”

She realized what he was implying a moment before he finished his question, and shock cracked the ambivalent mask she’d maintained for most of their conversation. “A Great World,” she whispered, voice filled with disbelief.

Conqueror’s pleasure was clear to see, the ring of his domain expanding until his scorched earth nearly reached the edge of her bonfire and her will was too scattered to contest it immediately. “Indeed,” he confirmed. “A Great World unclaimed by any true Hegemon. I was unable to enter the world directly, but from the strength of its suppression I suspect its Foundation has created no less than thirteen relics, at least one other a living wonder.”

“And it is close?” In a sense that was the most important question. Like her and her peers, Conqueror was bound to the Realm of his birth, unable to venture too far without greatly weakening himself. There were countless Great Worlds floating in the Ninth Sea, but most were much too far away for either of them to make any use of.

For the first time, Conqueror hesitated. “Close enough, I think,” he hedged. “I followed it for some time, and its trajectory should take it briefly through the Catka region before it passes us by. The window will not be long, but it will be long enough.”

Athena was silent for a long moment, considering. The opportunity to loot a Great World was…intoxicating. Even if she was unable to claim an Origin Relic from the realm, the abundance of Great Worlds was legendary. The treasures, natural resources, and methods she could claim for herself and her peers would greatly strengthen both their personal abilities and their Realm.

Conqueror was taking a great risk sharing so much information. It would be a great challenge to locate the Great Worlds without a treasure so profoundly connected to its existence as Conqueror’s peach tree, but it may be worth the cost. 

There was only one reason for him to be so candid. “And so you have come for my people’s aid. I told you once and I shall tell you again. Neither I, nor my peers, nor our people shall be your pawns, Conqueror. We shall not sacrifice ourselves so that you may glut yourself on the bounty of a Great World.”

His response was smooth and immediate. “But of course not, Divine Athena. I would not ask you and yours to throw your lives away. While you are of course welcome to join my conquest, that is not why I have come to you, Ergane.”

Once again, Athena knew what Conqueror would ask for before he ever raised the question. There was only one reason to approach her directly and not one of her peers who would be more open to Conqueror’s ideas. 

“Absolutely not,” she cut in instantly. “I shall not provide you with the means to threaten my people, no more than you would give me the keys to your armories.”

“You haven’t even heard my offer yet,” Conqueror said mildly.

Athena scoffed, not bothering to hide her disdain. “Your attempts to capture and recreate my ships have not been subtle, Conqueror, for all that they are futile. There is no price you would pay for which I would part with my trireme.”

Conqueror extended a fist towards her, then slowly opened it to reveal the peach pit once again. It glowed with an inner light and a sweet smell filled the air around it. “You will find, I think, that my budget for void ships has expanded significantly in recent years. And no one makes them like you do, Athena Ergane.”

Suddenly it all made sense. Why he’d specifically avoided dealing with the Twelve Thrones as a whole. Why he’d reached out to her directly instead of one of her peers who favored his methods. Why he’d freely told her so much more than he had to.

The others would never agree to give one of their greatest rivals on this Sea a way to reach their shores with his strength and the strength of his armies largely intact. Neither Ares nor Apollo—those of their number most likely to go along with Conqueror’s plans—had any extra ships to give, nor knew the secrets of their creation. And there was no way she would have accepted such a rich payment without knowing just why Conqueror so desperately needed her vessels—the risk of being implicated in the invasion of her own world or one of the neighbors with whom they maintained good relations would have simply been too great.

But this…

They stood in silence for as long as they had spoken, the unveiled aura of the peach pit swirling around them as Athena considered Conqueror’s offer. Though it was just a seed and it had been an age since her body had required sustenance as a mortal would, she found her mouth watering with desire, though she did not allow such things to taint her thoughts.

It was a good offer. The living seed of an Origin Relic was a bounty equal to a whole fleet of her ships, as costly and time consuming as they were to make. And the strain of traveling from Conqueror’s realm to the Catka region, as well as entering the domain of a Great World, would severely shorten the lifespan of any vessel, even her trireme. It was unlikely that he would be able to use them in any conquest beyond this one. If he did, they would be battered and patched enough that she could claim they had been looted and condemn the assault on her people.

And while there was no way she could—nor would risk—accompanying Conqueror’s invasion personally, she did have subordinates she could trust to be discreet. Ones whose patrol or trade ships could be blown badly off course by the treacherous currents of the Ninth Sea and disappear for a handful of centuries.

Most of her ships were in service and could not disappear without arousing questions she could not answer, but there were a handful of prototypes and models reserved for testing and her private use that could be written off her records. And while costly to produce, she did have the personal reserves to afford it.

He had her, and he knew it. The only question was how little she could get away with risking.

“Two ships,” she offered, “and two more crewed by my own men to be protected as your own and given equal share of the plunder.”

“Your vessels are fine beyond measure, Athena, but you are not the only shipwright I can reach. Your men are welcome to accompany mine and I shall defend them from annihilation by greater beings as I would my own armies, but I require at least ten ships and the parts and methods to maintain them.”

“Out of the question,” she snapped. “I do not have ten ships to give, and my own people would turn on me if I accepted such an offer. Three ships.”

“Forget the manuals then. Seven ships, but I will require a method to maintain them if they are damaged. My people must have a path home.”

She considered his counteroffer, then presented her own. “Three ships, each with a skeleton crew and a capable artificer, under the same terms as my other men.” The crews would be easy, but it would be difficult to find even three sufficiently competent artificers whom she could bind with enough death pacts to avoid simply handing the secrets of her ships to the enemy.

It was his turn to consider, standing as an armored statue as he pondered her counter. “Five ships,” he said eventually, agreeing to her other offer.

“Four. It will be difficult enough to find that many crews.”

He sighed heavily. “Four is…sufficient.” And then he tossed the peach pit to her like it was a child’s ball, releasing his claim on the treasure in the same instant.

She snatched it out of the air, appalled by his indifference and shocked that he would give it over so readily. She had expected a tense, reluctant exchange. Perhaps he had been more desperate for her ships than she’d suspected, or the peach tree had bore more than a single fruit.

“How soon can they be ready?” he asked softly, sounding suddenly tired.

Her thoughts raced. “The first…a decade.” She had a nearly completed ship in dry-dock. It was promised to Artemis, but accidents during construction happened. It would be easy enough to justify a delay. “The rest…by the end of the century at the latest. Perhaps as soon as thirty or forty years for the first two.”

He sighed heavily. “That is acceptable. I’m sure you know where to have them delivered.” 

She nodded. The location of his staging world was no secret; he welcomed all challengers. 

“Good.” And then suddenly his jovial mood returned, his voice cheery and warm. “Then it was a pleasure dealing with you, Divine Athena. It is such a pleasure working with rational actors.”

She could not say the same. Even now, with the peach pit in hand, she doubted herself. Was it truly right to cooperate with Conqueror of all people, even under such favorable terms? But she would go through with the deal as made, or her name was not Athena Ergane.

“I look forward to seeing the fruits of our cooperation.”

Conqueror laughed, high and cold and sharp. His voice suddenly sounded nothing like it had before and the constructed space Athena had imposed upon the Sea shuddered. “They shall be sweet indeed,” he told her. “I await my ships, Eleventh.”

He raised the blade that had reappeared in his left hand and thrust it into the waters beyond her mountaintop, parting them to reveal the deeper reaches that existed just beneath the surface. Then he was gone, vanishing without a single ripple.

Athena shuddered and let the mountain and the pillars and the thrones and the fire dissolve back into chaos. The peach pit in her hand vibrated, warm against her palm. There was no risk of it breaking apart in the currents, but she stowed it within herself regardless. It was best if no one but her most trusted knew she had it until far, far in the future. 

She reached out for the great temple that was the heart of her power and let the connection between them guide her. “Home,” she decreed, and reality had no choice but to comply. 

A moment later she stood in a courtyard as familiar to her as her own flesh and spirit. In a very real sense it was her flesh and spirit, separate from her body but no less a part of it. The working drained her, but it was worth it to return here in moments instead of months.

She cast her gaze around, assessing. Now then, where would a peach tree best blend in with the rest of the foliage?