Novels

The Six Bells of the Ever Palace rang out its final call, Eve’nbell had come. The Ever Palace, once as vibrant and active as any anthill, was still and silent.

Bulquis Renner Torvis, Strike Commander of the Seventh Vanguard of House Torvis and Bearer of the Waliken Standard, was not still.

Renner was walking as quietly and swiftly as he could, moving from shadow to shadow on the streets, keeping himself hidden from the Doorsmin’s attention. It was nothing difficult. While it had been many years since he had fought as a soldier on any front-lines, his years as Strike Commander had given him a respectful understanding of both the limits of any guards attention, and the boundaries of even holy vows.

Besides, he had a holier charge than even that of the Doorsmin.

I, well traveled as I am, have never stepped behind the door. Well traveled as I am, I have never met any who have done so.

Of all the known residences of Insect-folk, the Circumvexing Hill is perhaps the most notorious, and certainly the most confusing to outsiders. Hidden within its choking depths and dizzying heights, the Circumvexing Hill is known both for its complex and downright obtuse hierarchy, and its overly intricate design.

Perhaps the most interesting and enigmatic aspect of the Circumvexing Hill is its connection between prestige and location. Some may find this awkward or clumsy to maneuver, but rest assured that the Insect-folk of the Circumvexing Hill find the more common practice of wearing one’s honors, such as on a uniform, sash, head, or belt, no less confusing.

Excerpt from The Dreams of Harrison Peak, by Gomph Uspleki:

It hangs there, in the empty velvet, a chain wrapped around its ankle, hanging from an ice-crystal too far away to be seen. Its arm outstretched, its lipless mouth open in delight, or pain, or song. What once might have been wings now dangle uselessly. Its broiling corpus now full of a thousand souls, living or hoping to live as one does, full of shattered dreams and hopeless futures.

Dworgs, also known as Earth-Children, Keepers of the Emerald Path, Twig-beards, Masons, and more derogatorily, Dogs, are an ancient people, perhaps the oldest beings among the Myriad Worlds.

The first mention of the Dworg people is carved into the Plinth of Uilyll, the seventh facet. There, the eponymous Uilyll comes across an ancient ruin who provides them with the secret of the enduring name. (It is presumed this is a perhaps metaphorical explanation for the carving of the Plinth itself. As a people, Dworgs are known for their reverence towards stonework and its enduring nature. The ‘Secret of the Enduring Name’ may simply be a reference to carving Uilyll’s story in stone.) While the debate over the age of the Plinth is ongoing, there are few who challenge the sentiment that Dworgs have existed since before travel between the Myriad Worlds was first attempted.

The cool night wind was refreshing after the heavily perfumed air of the ballroom. Navin breathed as deep as the tight clothing would allow. Pale fingers played along the edge of the stone balcony, tracing cracks and seams like a spider searching for a foothold.

The Viceroy’s Estate sat at the top of a great hill. From the balcony, the Port City of the Third World lay stretched out towards the horizon. In the distance, the giant Port Tower gleamed in the night, its marble walls glittering among hanging lanterns and guiding lights. Around the tower’s many docks and balconies hung both mighty and humble Velvet-ships of every shape and size. Each was built by the hand of their Ever Lord’s own engineers, by methods known only to the most secret of artisans.

The Eve’nbell had rung on the First World, and so too throughout the Empire. Lights were dim all throughout the Port City as trade, labor, and conversation ceased. Peasants and nobles alike returned to their homes to eat and rest.

A light flickered in some distant window, a single red crystal to mirror the thousand icy cousins that shone above. Navin watched as the faint glow burned brighter, a beacon in the darkness. A fitful child, perhaps, and their mother waking to comfort it. A merchant, returning late from the tavern. Perhaps a nightmare had plagued an old man, who now sat up to drink away the horror. A young maid, reading again the letters of her love, aching for the morning. A thousand possibilities, and Navin would never know which was true.

The Grand Junction is perhaps unique in that its origin is not only known to multiple different cultures and peoples across the Myriad Worlds, but also that this origin is agreed upon. There are few such structures across the Velvet, as most are either attended to by a single culture, or are hotly contested about their origins (e.g. the Sibilants, Orwltown, and The Dworgs)

Grand Junction was created by a unified force of Zyth, Dworgs, a single Aspanighoraji, and a team of Ogres bearing a symbol described as “A single sign” on their backs. Construction was completed centuries before the first Golden Howdah sailed the velvet, and as such, every people has a legend or record of discovering the Grand Junction. These records usually include an introduction to the Grand Junction’s history, as told by an ancient Zyth or discovered on the Mural of History.

For any traveler of the Myraid Worlds, the first consideration must always be transport.

This is not new. Since time immemorial, the folk of the Myriad Worlds have found ingenious and irregular means of traveling the Velvet between worlds. The Rim-runners are known for the practices of Skipper-riding, the Gilbrim for their Ripjins, and few are the folk who have not witnessed the eerie sight of a band of Yattrinti setting off in their pearlescent spheres. Even purchasing your own yacht from any number of reputable (or otherwise) merchants is a perfectly acceptable method of traveling through the Velvet.

When choosing your first vessel, there are a remarkable number of options to consider; the first and foremost for the inexperienced traveler should be Availability. While the Byways Guild is a powerful and productive institution, the Myraid Worlds are numerous and wide, with millions of towns and villages beyond their immediate grasp.

CW: Physical and emotional control.

What had Navin done?

Nothing. Navin had done nothing.

Broken tool.

Wallin province was beautiful and verdant. Navin had heard this. Everyone had heard this.

Born to serve.

Navin had said nothing any other servant would not have said. No one would know what Navin had likely set in motion. There was nothing wrong in what Navin had said.

Navin had said it!

“Navin of House Bithrakai.” The gentle voice that drifted across Navin’s ears was rimmed with steel. It was half a question, half a command.

Navin turned to see a woman dressed in a simple green dress of silk and lace. Sparkles of silver and gold glittered across the fabric, and bright gems of purple and yellow danced on the top of thin tassels all along the sleeves. Her eyes, framed by silken locks of sable-black hair, were the only part of the woman’s face that weren’t covered by her ornate fan.

When their eyes met, the woman extended a white-gloved hand, palm down. It was a simple command, one Navin couldn’t help but obey. Navin curtsied and took the lady’s hand, smelling the strong perfume drifting lazily from the woman’s powdered face.

Deep in Navin’s mind, a thousand clues were collected and analyzed. The colors and style of the dress, the image on the fan, even the shape of the woman’s brow was useful information. Even before Navin had gripped the fragrant glove, the hidden face had a name.

“My dear Lady Vach,” Navin smiled, “what a delight to see you. House Bithrakai is grateful that you could come.”