Nephthys stood—floated—next to the throne, her back to the audience hall as the Nemesis members filed out, off to tend to whatever tasks they had been assigned. She had turned around at first because it seemed ruler-like, but now she stared at the enormous crystal beyond, her brows furrowed.
Prelude lacked any 'inspect' system, skill, or spell. Relevant details about items were simply displayed in a tooltip, either when viewed in one’s inventory or as a floating text box above them in the world. Things like enemy health bars, level, item effects, enchantments, and any details a player might desire were shown this way.
Obviously, something like that would not transfer into reality. Nephthys was actually grateful, as she did not relish the idea of text boxes cluttering her real, actual vision. That said, she occasionally received jolts of information when examining something. When glancing at the throne, for example, she received a burst of knowledge, somewhere between a memory recalled and an information injection straight into her brain.
[Throne of Vengeance:
Bane of Betrayal]
[One of several central access points for guild control functions, accessible only by: Guild Master Nephthys]
Nephthys did not recall ever naming the throne or writing flavor text, but she supposed it fit, considering the theme and Nemesis’s Greak inspiration. The most useful information was that she could access ‘control functions’ for the guild. This gave her hope that some of the functionality that guilds were granted in Prelude was still accessible now that it was reality, even if there would not be a convenient menu to navigate through.
The throne was not what she was concerned about, however. She was mildly curious about how the information was being loaded into her brain, whether it was injected directly or a combination of her memories of the game and this game-like system that seemed to guide reality in this world.
That curiosity was only burning in the back of her mind. What was currently occupying her attention was the titanic crystal speared into the planet. In Prelude, it was a legendary artifact: the meteor that brought civilization to an end. However, it was just background lore. There was nothing displayed about it when observed, just as there was no text box that popped up when one looked at a mountain. It was just part of the landscape.
Now, it had a name.
[Veilpiercer]
That was all. Just a name. The fact that it was named did not surprise her. It was an artifact that caused the literal end of civilization. It would be stranger if it had no name. What unsettled her was that it sounded like the name of a weapon.
“Ramose,” Nephthys spoke into the silence.
“Yes, my lady,” Ramose replied.
He alone had remained in the hall, though she was not sure why. Perhaps that was what an overseer does?
“What do you see?” she asked, gesturing out into the magma bowl.
Ramose cocked his head to the side, striding up to stand next to Nephthys and looking out into the bowl.
“The impact point of the Skyfade event, I believe. Was there something specific you were referring to, madam?” he asked.
“You see the impact crater, but nothing else? No names?” she asked cryptically.
“No, my lady,” he responded.
A brief silence passed between them, only the occasional pop from a magma bubble popping below breaking it.
“Veilpiercer,” Nephthys said simply.
That got Ramose’s attention, though he was annoyingly professional. A slight widening of his eyes was the only indicator that he was off-balance.
“This means something to you?” Nephthys questioned.
“Not the name itself, my lady, but its individual words do,” he replied, equally cryptic.
“Elaborate,” she ordered, turning to face him.
With an etiquette technique she believed was called ‘mirroring,’ Ramose faced her in turn, his hands behind his back, his professional candor restored.
“Devas and devis live closer to the boundaries of reality, my lady. There are things we are natively aware of but do not speak. The Veil is one such subject. It is a…how should I say…a membrane that separates worlds. That is as simply as I can describe it, for I do not understand much of it myself,” he said.
“Why do you not speak of things like the Veil?” Nephthys asked.
“It varies between worlds, my lady, but names hold a power all their own. Sometimes speaking of something draws its attention. We do not want the attention of anyone—anything—related to the Veil,” he explained ominously.
That was fascinating, but she held her curiosity at bay for the moment.
“Are you aware of the name ‘Veilpiercer’ from any records prior to Nemesis being cut off from the world? Was it a name ascribed to the impact remnant by any existing civilization or peoples?” Nephthys asked, turning back to observe the crystal once again.
“Not to my knowledge. However, I should mention that I only arrived in this world when my lady summoned me, so my knowledge of the world beyond Ashreach, beyond this Crater, even, should be considered incomplete,” Ramose explained.
Nephthys thought he sounded embarrassed, but she did not know why. He was correct that she had summoned him chronologically very late in her Prelude career, and he never left the Crater itself. She should have expected him to be uninformed on the wider world.
“As we reestablish contact with the world, we must look into this. Your explanation of the Veil and this object’s name suggests that, rather than a stray meteor that just happened to crash into the planet in an unfortunate alignment of cosmic chance, it is an inter-dimensional traveler.
“That by itself is bad enough, knowing that we should be concerned about stray debris breaching dimensional barriers, but the possibility that it was guided intentionally cannot be overlooked, either,” Nephthys explained.
Ramose’s eyes widened once again, and he took longer to gather himself this time.
“That would indeed be…concerning,” he admitted, brushing his already-spotless collar, as if the thought had soiled him somehow. Perhaps he was actually unnerved by the suggestion.
“It is nothing but idle speculation right now. The impact was nearly five hundred years ago. Statistically, if nothing has happened since then, it is unlikely to happen any time soon. I would simply prefer to be prepared, considering Nemesis is built atop it,” Nephthys explained.
Truthfully, the logistics were pouring out of her on autopilot, her mind mostly numb. She was not even finished processing the fact that she had somehow crossed between worlds and been locked into this Djinn body. Now, there was a possibility of something slinging world-ending meteors between dimensions. That was far too much to process. She had to add it to the growing queue.
“Caution is always advised. I will take this to heart and keep it firmly in mind as we progress,” Ramose affirmed, bowing slightly in acknowledgment.
“What are your thoughts on the report?” she asked, shifting gears.
Ramose’s unease, already barely visible, seemed to evaporate as he shifted back into everyday professionalism.
“A few unknown individuals have observed Nemesis from a distance but never approached. These scouts are ill-equipped and individual. They are careful to keep their distance from each other in case they are noticed,” Ramose recapped, counting on his fingers.
“I would guess these are scouts belonging to different organizations, considering their reluctance to be spotted by each other. These organizations are either small or weak, given that they have sent individual scouts who can only maneuver the Crater in stealth. They lack the force or strength to do more. The risk posed by the Crater is too great.
“Motivations are currently unknown, and the likelihood of multiple involved parties makes speculation difficult. Perhaps they are probing our defences. Perhaps they are simply curious about the vanished light. It is impossible to tell,” Ramose concluded.
“And what can we extrapolate about the outside world from this?” Nephthys prompted.
“Not much, but I believe we can safely assume a few things. First, it is very likely that the Vadenlaudian push into Ashreach two centuries ago either encountered significant resistance or collapsed entirely. Perhaps there is a surviving civilization far to the south, along the coast, but this far into the interior, I suspect they have no presence.
“Second, the appearance of individual scouts suggests to me that what ‘civilized’ presence remains in the region is a collection of warlords or tribes. Two hundred years is a long time, and I would guess that these remnants hold little recognizable as Vadenlaudian culture.
“Strong tribal leaders or warlords likely rise and fall, competing with each other for survival. My reasoning for this is the nature of Ashreach. It is a continent of valuable resources, but few of the necessities for mortal survival. Although a small sample of crashglass might buy a castle in Vadenlaud, clean water and food are precious here.
“The flora and fauna are just as hostile as the land, and there is hardly a single animal below level two hundred. Survivors will gather around powerful individuals, seeing them as their only hope of surviving the Ashreach interior.
“This will make these groups insular, tribal, and fiercely territorial. When even remotely habitable terrain is so scarce, they will guard their own with their lives,” Ramose finished, nodding at his own conclusions.
Nephthys was impressed with his tactical acumen. Those were sound hypotheses pieced together from a single piece of information. No wonder this guy was the overseer—not that she knew that or planned for it when she summoned him. She just thought it made sense for her second-in-command to be the strongest she could summon.
“Those are excellent, reasonable deductions, Ramose. Well done. Do not assume they are true; I suspect you already know that. It is fine to proceed with that possibility in mind as long as we remain flexible.
“Please coordinate with Hannibal. Our posture should be neutral but firm. We will not be intimidated, nor do we aim to create conflict. Hannibal should be handling the military organization with minimal oversight. Just stay informed of what he is doing at a high level.
“Your main task is to inventory Nemesis. We have been isolated for two hundred years. How is everyone? What are we missing? What do we have in excess? What are the immediate concerns that need to be addressed?” Nephthys listed.
“Of course, my lady. I will see to it immediately,” he said, bowing and stalking off like a robot who just finished winding up.
Nephthys turned and examined the Veilpiercer one more time, its presence now more ominous than she had ever intended when building this room. With a sigh, she floated toward the exit. She could ponder it later. For now, she wanted to see what had changed around her guild after two centuries.
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