POV: Heath Dollen.
Date: Mörsugur 19th, 598. (Alt: 1st January, 599 AD.) Location: Götaland (Ancient Sweden.)
"*Hu~*They're quite persistent. At least I have a break away from them now." Heath says in English, on the sofa, spreading legs and arms wide over the backboard's pillows.
He hears their chattering from behind the door, a writhing, harsh concomitance that would be hard to parse if not for his incredibly sensitive hearing that allowed him to hear different ranges separately. It was good to know that their self-introductions and names stuck well.
Heath would have an auto-converse, seeing the possible pros or cons of meeting the new people that were rescued. At the end, he chose yes, but not now at this point when they are still acclimating. He will wait until the deer have all calmed down for a better time, and for a possible gift towards them for all of the trauma they had gone through. Though, what sort of recompense would be available? "Would they enjoy seeing their captors' corpses trapped in amber for eternity?" A rather morbid, yet genuine question for such a topic.
He gets up to walk towards the door to open, his limbs feeling less weighted and airy than they usually do, which he ignores as a possible emotional aftereffect, he touches the handle, having no direct sensation other than in his own mind in comparison to nerves.
The space was empty? "Okay, what in the world? Just a second ago I heard voices." He wonders through to himself, then uses magic to check what had occured. And he found out it was a recreation of the hallway and his room, yet everything else was an endless space.
Unloaded and blurry, memories unneeded for a 'task' unknown. Exactly like his dream space. He goes on guard and wraps a solidified spiritual form of his armour once 'warped' in, which was closer to recreating it from his perfect memory, now walking through with heavy steps.
Over a period of time, he somehow returned past his room through a repeating, endless hallway, he remembers of possible beings that may exist, those that may aid one's fate with the land and mind. 'A possible type of Fylgja, perhaps?' He internally wonders.
He stops moving altogether, not seeing an end to such a farce. "You have brought me into my own dream, you may come out." He says in a battle-ready pose, not fully trusting, as this world was one that was too dangerous to be too careless. The blur that covered the absolute edge of perception caved in by then, reaching towards him closely until it only gave him a few rooms' worth of walking space. And what came out appeared visually scary. A spiritual entity that Heath had not expected to see in the Norse religious areas.
"A domovoy (House spirit?)" He puts down his guard altogether, for what he saw was the telltale signs of a creature that could work in hand with the external protective instincts provided by the Fylgja said beforehand. It was a guardian and mentor to those who sought it.
Its fur was a brownish coating with edges of grey and white, fully covering its own body and giving it a thick bearded look. Its eyes, sunken yet lively, were much in similarity to those of a Norwegian or Russian hound breed of their time. It stood on its hind legs that had splayed feet much like those of a wolf and its hands were thick and long-clawed, ready both for feats of strength and for galloping if needed. Looking as you would imagine a Dvergr úlfheðnar (Dwarf werewolf) would be, short yet intimidating.
"I am surprised you know of us." It spoke in a weathered tone, its spiritual representation wisened and demure. Giving a smile behind its incredibly bushy moustache. "The Æsir were hard to hide from, yet I came to a hidden place through your marvel.*StepStepStep-*"
It raises its hand, then points back towards Heath's door. "Let us sit in your room, if you mind me." It puts its palm to his chest, hoping to appear honest to the person he was ordained to protect by the newest incarnation of Di Penates, a representation of all ancestral systems of the Home and Hearth since ancient Roman times. Heath recognises their first mentions, and knows that they only come when necessary, so he does so. And they enter his room. "You went through the portal, as you had no intention of harming our people, eh?" Heath smiles.
"Yes, it took getting used to the way you travelled through the realm, beings like myself could get lost through the magical tide during 'transport.'" It walks through the door, seeing the interior of the room. "Very fancy. Though not my style." Its beard wobbled laconically.
"How had your creator come to know of what I have done, when I made sure to minimise my interference with the outside world, except for the building and a few trees' knocking?" Heath sat down on the bed, and he waved towards the sofa, which they obliged, it looked uncomfortable, hunched, trying to sit as a mennskr. "You can rest normally." Heath nodded, showing he meant it. The domovoy accepted and lay on its belly to work with its skeletal musculature. "Exactly because of that." It scratches its beard, flattened upon the couch.
"Your showing was seen by Mother Jǫrð, who then watched you through her many eyes throughout the earth. She saw the good you were doing, even if kept hidden to most. She sees your kind nature, even while you are growing evermore powerful." They pause.
"Once it saw you meant no harm, and even saw your accurate teachings on your knowledge on those whom she saw as 'lesser' in strength to you, never forcing, only giving options and keeping yourself as a human, as you once were.*Heh.*" They chuckled to themselves. "Your past fate could not be determined as fully true, as you were not of this world, yet she gave the benefit of the doubt. So she pulled roots below and asked my personified creator, Rod, for assistance." He layed it all out, hoping that this gambit was not a false cause.
"Then you have come to the right place." Heath smirked towards him. "Though both her and you have seen my views on them. Would she not see me as a danger to her son, Þórr?" Heath's mention of him led to its eyes to darken and his claws to lengthen.
"You do not speak of a failure." It intoned with a rasping direction. "He is not her child, not after everything HE HAS DONE." It almost digs those talons into its own palms, a past not worth uncovering until Heath can gain their trust. "I am sorry." Heath put his head down. Only the heavy breathing of the domovoy could be heard, until it began quieting a tone and it spoke in turn. "*Heuh*You do not need to apologise." It says, getting off of the sofa and patting his shoulder with ends of normal length. "Lift your head." It says calmingly.
Heath does so, and saw that its eyes were wisely those of a parent, wishing to teach their child a new topic. "Þórr is his own person. She does still love him as a son, yet she knows he is not the boy she helped raise. He is now a creature with no inhibitions, callous, and cold."
It lets go of his shoulder, and its brow made it appear to have no eyes against the glaring light. "His children would become monsters themselves from his influence, and an orouboros of continuous violence would flourish, which he would revel in. All due to Óðinn's weaponisation and control of faith from his followers." It bashes those he knows would be the greatest threat to them, and Heath fully agrees to it, though there is one slight caveat. "Then what should I do?" He asks them, and it strokes their barrel chest below his bristles.
"I suggest you figure your material problem." The domovoy's comment was met with an eyebrow raise from Heath. "Are the farms not enough?" He asks it, which it shook their head. "It is enough, but do you know why Draupnir was the only ring of its kind?" Their eyes gleam.
"Because magic does not make a permanent material, it will slowly dissolve back into itself if not maintained. A process that matches the stability of what it recreates. There are two components, after all. One is the magic you use, and a catalyst beside the material." The domovoy's comment was met with an aftershock, as if a nuke blew away his body and left the shadowed imprint on his flooring below. Heath's eyes widen. "So that is why it never felt perfect. Is it as much as how in my world, preservatives are used to make food last longer?"
He questions, which they shrug. "If you mean salt to meat? Then close enough." Both he and the domovoy smile. "Before I continue, what is your name?" Heath hopes to closen the gap between them. "Call me Adal, Heath." An old name meaning 'noble' was said.
Heath thinks over what information to comb over, as not all of it would be necessary. "In my realm, all materials came from lighter elements called Hydrogen from three components, 1 Proton, 1 Electron and is under a force known as electromagnetism. And as such, were all made under pressure in Population (III) Stars." Heath shows it through his memories of the study, a direct transfer of knowledge from being in the dream space, all consciousness melding, yet still definite in uniqueness
"Does this catalyst involve the stars in this realm as well?" Heath questions him, though Adal looks towards him in approval. "Your knowledge is similar to what we know of ours. This 'electromagnetism' of what you speak of matches, and is lesser for the replicants."
It sits back down on the sofa. "Let us use your steel ingots, as an example, it would last at most a few years versus decades, especially under light. You must slow the process down to less than a 10th of its speed. And to keep it in absolute darkness for a time. Which is why they keep Draupnir underground." And Adal wags its finger towards Heath in obvious mischief. "And your magic was confounding, somehow replicating Dvergr methods to exact trialling. You are intelligent when not self-sabotaging." Both a dig and a compliment.
"Thank you, I try my best." Heath does a mock bow while snorting in an emotion between surprise and concern. "But everything I have made from them, how do I help them not, uh, self-disintegrate?" He asks as a representative to the golems.
"As you cannot stop their working, for I know of their productive nature-" He pulls on his moustache, twirling it slightly. "-give them more menial tasks while providing them with greater magic over time. Like how you gave your daughter this magically absorbing stomach. Except rather than gaining in power, it makes it bind itself in permanence, that is until this entropy takes it." He gets up and begins walking to the door. "This may give the added benefit of giving them a greater chance to develop souls." Adal opens it with a quiet swing.
"Now, you owe Mother Jǫrð a visit. She has hidden your Cavern's existence in much the same way as the archaic shield that surrounds you by that outsider. Goodbye, Heath." He closes the door behind them. "Bye, Adal." So, Heath wakes up in the spot where he rested.
He lifts his head off the right pillow on the sofa, looking around and seeing through the false window the time. Which appeared to be midday. "A few hours had passed, that's surprising." He pulls a face to a tense duck, as he realises more hidden knowledge is provided.
A private meeting spot that may or may not be a trap. Literally right next to the northern edge of the Cavern, and only as small as his two-story apartment room. "I had wondered why she never said anything to the other Gods." He quietly sighs to none.
"Through my magic, I felt no interference of others, but that doesn't mean they had unknown methods beyond." Heath holds his head. "They've warned me, so I'll return the favour. It would've been too late by the time I recognised this degradation." He refocuses.
He gets up and walks to the door, he sees behind and through the hallway that there were none around. He breaks his promise and scans the material for what he should be looking for, a reduction in material half-life in comparison to those that were real. 'Holy shit.' His eyes scanned it so voraciously that it appeared to be the most interesting subject in existence, when in reality, watching paint dry was more engaging. 'They were right. Everything I've made has such a lifespan.' He stood straight and walked back and forth, his mind racing.
"I have time. I have time. . ." Heath repeats to himself to calm down. He breathes in, the stale air of his home helping him remember hospitals from his home realm. "I can't put everyone through a moment of darkness, not after giving them all I could." He frowns indistinguishably.
His expression turned empty, that is until he heard a sudden walk down the hallway a while away. He turned off all magical observations and now chose to act like nothing occurred. It was Valyria, and she appeared surprised that Papa was in front of his door, just resting against the wall. She jogged quickly until appearing in front of him in under a few Model minutes. "Hey kid, could I ask you something that you will not tell anyone else?" He asks her in Norse. Which she nods. "What is wrong, Papa?" Valyria asks, keeping an ear close.
"I wish to turn this Cavern into an eternal phylactery, not bound to a single person but to the collective souls of everyone who chooses to live here." He paints a grand picture that works the opposite to those owned by the Pantheon. Souls owned by the land to a single being.
'That could at least provide greater magic growth in equal share to everything involved, both material and person.' He believes it could help address the new issue he has come to understand was a grave threat if left unattended. A win-win in his belief! 'And when will be the next time I come to see the domovoy?' Eh, he will see to it later, as Valyria unquietened. "Why?" A singular response. "Because it will keep everyone safe. Causing-" He explained in more simplistic, yet congruous terminology that allowed her to see the bigger picture.
"-more souls may form in the golems too, and we could grow our family!" A single twig that broke the beaver's dam, she wholeheartedly believed in his cause, if he was one with more sinister motives, he would be a good orator when not overly worrying.
"What could I do, Papa?" She asks him expectantly. "Once the Autos number 10 million, and the Bus golems number 5 million, turn off all machines, we must refocus the magic towards our infrastructure and future technological endeavours!" Heath acts like a performer on a stage, imagining the best and worst possible scenarios so as not to become overconfident. "How many golems are there now?" He asks once he calmed down, which at that point he heard another set of footsteps stop from behind him.
"There was a magic reflux that occurs every few hours, as if something interferes with it. Currently, there are a bit below 7.3 million Autos, and many above 2.9 million Bus golems." A voice was heard from that same direction. He turned around and saw Egill.
"Punctual as always." Heath waved towards him to come closer. "So the bandwidth for magic is limited by what I have created, that is not good. When do you expect the 3 millionth Bus to be made?" He sees Egill mentally calculate it. "A few minutes with the number of factories concurrently running, it follows a pattern, and I expect it to be in one of the middle floors of Den höga ormtungan." He double-checks this through his notes, which he sees it is about right. "Then we had better get there quickly." They scuttle through to the portal room.
2,983,768. . . 2,991,653. . . 2,993,491. . . This process of waiting over a few minutes by travelling between many floors showed how easy it was to create an army of robotic creatures that are growing in power, now far beyond the ground level.
They all see the 2,999,954th. Understanding this pattern that emerges, while Heath and Valyria quickly turned off all of the Bus golem factories in sync, they scour through quick teleportation, and with both of their photographic memories, they could tell they went over their goal, with 5 above 3 million. Valyria asked permission to turn them into more of the private Bus-Guard golem models talked about in Chapter 30. And now there are 105. "Now, how long before the Autos become 10 million?" Heath asks Egill. "A few hours from now."
And very little occurred during this time, 2 Model hours pass before they also turn off their factories as well, leading to an extra 11 Autos produced, which are divided, turned and upgraded to 5 Bus-Guard golems. Now there are more than a full company.
"Where do you suggest the extra 90 be sent when 20 are by the major families under the Völsung?" Agnarr asks, as he had joined on his own midway through this setup. "I have no idea." Heath comments behind a mouthful of dried apple snacks brought in by Hervor's behest. Valyria ate fewer in comparison yet still tasted how delectable it was. "Your wife makes great treats." Heath stated as fact after swallowing. "Yeah." Agnarr acts dreamily while having one for himself, moments of a past rediscovered within himself.
Heath suddenly stopped to himself, feeling as if a presence wished to contact him. "I am sorry, but I have to go. I feel a disturbance in the magic." A small Star Wars reference before walking off, soon reappearing in his room and locking himself in place.
He gets transported to the dream space in his bed, and he sees the Adal appear in a hurry. "The Spiritual Queen." Adal's head were nearly hidden in shadows. "She is coming."