The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

When he walked out of the steam room in the largest bathhouse in Kharon, Randidly was surprised how genuinely relaxed he felt. It also helped that there were few noises in the empty hallway of the bathhouse other than the sound of water running through pipes overhead. The busy emptiness did a lot to set his mind at ease.

And despite talking with Lucretia about the loss he felt, Randidly dearly needed the peace.

That thought made Randidly press his eyes closed. But that’s exactly what Lucretia was talking about. I can’t avoid this pain. I just need to… learn to let it be a part of me. The prospect was slightly exhausting even to Randidly, who was a man who could count on his hand the number of break days he had taken over the past year.

While toweling off his freshly trimmed hair, he proceeded blithely forward down the hallway into the luxury bath area reserved for Kharon’s elites. An ornate series of carvings surrounded a bleak grey door that had been emblazoned with the emblem of the Order Ducis. Randidly glanced around to see if this area was different; Grim Intuition quickly reassured him that it was not. As he had expected, everyone was so busy with the preparations for his birthday that he basically had the whole building to himself.

Everyone was hard at work. So he had time to relax.

He pushed on the heavy stone door and it slid open with a silent smoothness that spoke to the workmanship of the hinges. Warm interior lights flicked on as Randidly stepped forward and closed the door behind him. To his surprise, it seemed that the area was one rather large room rather than more hallways and personal baths like the other half of the building.

Still, it was a good space. The rough tiles beneath his feet were pleasantly warm as Randidly walked forward and surveyed the area. The hum of Engraved water heaters began spreading out and adding a pleasant fullness to the room that was empty and still.

The room was certainly large. There were towels and heated stones at the end near him alongside several heavy wooden benches. In front of that area was a large pool. Deep enough for swimming in some areas with the water pleasantly cool to the touch. Perhaps it was Randidly’s imagination, but he immediately suspected that the water within the pool was uncommonly pure; his own reflection he saw in the placid surface had sharp edges.

Beyond that was the hot tub and a vat of powdery snow available as alternate ways to clean. Which is part of the reason that Randidly was here. With echoing footsteps, Randidly walked across the bathhouse only accompanied by the sound of his bare feet slapping against the stone tiles. Then he stood between the hot tub and snow vat, closing his eyes as the steam and cold air wafted upward and pressed against the sides of his body.

Tonight is to remind of the importance of images. Beyond that, it is to demonstrate what a sufficiently powerful image can accomplish…

Also, if I can, I’d like to warn people about some of the hidden dangers of the System… even if that might reveal some of my own secrets in order to make my claims believable…

Last but not least… I would like to receive a present from my father...

Climbing the stairs next to the hot tub, Randidly put his right hand into the water. Then he winced and fiddled with the glyphs along the side of the hot tub until the temperature spiked upward. One problem with post-System Earth was that their bodies had become so powerful that it was difficult to achieve the painful heat that Randidly had always savored in showers prior to the System.

To Kharon’s credit, it seemed they had some workarounds for this. Some mechanism quickly engaged and dumped another liquid into the hot tub. Very quickly the liquid within became milky, likely raising the evaporation point of the mixture. And when Randidly tested the temperature again, it was indeed pleasantly warm.

Not truly hot, of course, but it would do.

...who would have thought there would be a day that I remember fondly being forced to hide within a lake of lava in order to survive, Randidly thought with a smirk as he lounged in the tub and did his best to ease the tension in his shoulders. It was a difficult task. Randidly was very aware that today would be a day full of activities that he didn’t enjoy in the slightest.

Talking. Mediating. Explaining. Teaching. Placating…

Hopefully, I will at least get the chance to break up a fight, Randidly chuckled to himself. Because when the Nemesai contingent arrived, it would be rather shocking if people didn’t react poorly to their presence. The deaths at Zone 1’s football game were still fresh in everyone’s mind, after all.

As Randidly spun his body in the water, his eyes caught on a cupboard next to the hot tub. Curious, he drifted over and slid the wooden door open. Within there were several labeled slots where soap were placed. Most were empty, but there was one that looked like it had been recently refilled.

“...scent by Ghosthound…” Randidly muttered to himself. Then his expression turned extremely sour.

It was his first bath in a while, but still… Using this soap was a little bit embarrassing…

Once more Randidly scanned the surrounding area. His expression turned extremely aggrieved as he looked back at the cupboard's interior. Why did this one soap have to be the only one available… was it… unpopular…?

*****

The sun seemed to set early, as though sensing that everyone was filled with anticipation of what was to come. Without the sun the temperature quickly cooled, but the ambient heat of the industrial forges of Kharon seemed to keep the entire mobile city a pleasant experience.

The street was well lit, a clear pathway cut through Kharon that led directly toward the venue hosting Randidly Ghosthound’s birthday. The emerald moss spirits swirled around, clearly somehow aware of the pageantry of the night. They made sweeping movements, sometimes appearing more like a flock of infinitesimally small fireflies that spun above the pathway that the strange energy consciousness that they truly were.

A night that could convince someone to believe in magic, Mrs. Hamilton thought with a great deal of nostalgia. A night for miracles.

“Mrs. Hamilton? Did you hear what I said?”

Mrs. Hamilton sighed and lowered her gaze from the lovely sky and faced the pug-faced representative from the Order Fide. “Of course I heard you Carl, but let’s not jump to conclusions about what the Order Ducis will say about the Epic Dungeon before giving them the chance to speak, yes? They have been passive in the past, but isn’t this event proof that such a stance is now changing?”

“Miranda…” The man said with a condescending sigh. “Despite your status in Donnyton, sometimes I am quite shocked by how naive you can be! This birthday party is simply a vanity project. It can be seen from the Order Ducis’ prior actions-”

“Excuse, me, but it seems I need to talk with my subordinates.” Mrs. Hamilton said serenely. Then she turned away and ignored the man’s voice as he tried to call Mrs. Hamilton back over speak with him. They were part of a larger slow procession toward the venue, a group content to chat while taking in the unique experience of Kharon, meaning that there were several representatives and guests from other Orders who looked over curiously at Carl’s raised voice. Which luckily meant that Carl quickly scowled and fell silent rather than draw more attention to himself.

Mrs. Hamilton walked briskly forward, nodding calmly at some of the groups that gave her curious looks. Aside from just the Orders, the politicians from Zone 1 were a large percentage of the crowd of meandering people as they examined Kharon during their slow trek toward the event. Unfortunately, they imitated the representative from the Order Fide, in principle if not in obnoxious practice.

As she continued forward, their whispered conversations and almost snide assurances in the dimming light of dusk all seemed so… silly to Mrs. Hamilton. They played tiny games while walking toward the table of the most powerful man on Earth. Did they think that any of this would have much meaning after the evening began in earnest?

Too much had happened recently. The Earth’s weaknesses had been exposed at the football game, but most of the Zones seemed to think that the weakness was only Zone 1’s. Which Mrs. Hamilton expected to be the exact opposite of what Randidly had gleaned from what had transpired.

But then, she knew Randidly Ghosthound. And Mrs. Hamilton knew that if Randidly was willing to put himself through the horror of entertaining all these people, he would have a plan in place to keep the event on track.

The small plans were cobwebs to him. He would blow them away without even noticing that they had built up in the small corners of the party that weren’t worth noticing.

Passing a large group that seemed to be the guard entourage of Zone 7 that was looking frantically for any of its leaders, Mrs. Hamilton finally spotted the woman she was seeking. She walked calmly up to Isabella Cortez’s side, as the other woman was watching a group of spiraling moss spirits in fascination, and cleared her throat.

“Where’s your brother?”

Isabella glanced over then shook her head. “Paolo and Kayle took him ahead. Apparently, with the number of people here, the men are worried that the food Kharon provided will run out if they are late.”

“Is it an excuse, or are they just excited to get to the spectacle of the party…?” Mrs. Hamilton wondered aloud. Isabella Cortez snorted, as though this was exactly the sort of behavior that she would have expected from her brother, Paolo, and Kayle. Despite her own martial strength, Isabella was becoming increasingly disinterested in pursuing such power further. Instead, she voraciously consumed every bit of political wisdom that she could.

Perhaps she felt that her own strength was insignificant. Randidly Ghosthound’s power was the exception that proved the rule. His strength could change an entire world, but others struggled to imitate his accomplishments. So Isabella took her Donnyton studies more seriously.

What was ironic was that Mrs. Hamilton had started leaning toward the exact opposite conclusion recently.

Mrs. Hamilton smiled lightly as they continued to walk forward down the lovely street. The buildings around them shifted from the bustling city to more commercial and industrial properties as they proceeded forward. How much does this girl truly understand about the games within games that we play here? Kayle and Paolo might be rushing forward for their own desires, but they will test the waters and prepare for our arrival. There is much we miss by arriving exactly on time…

Truly, raising a successor was extremely hard work. Mrs. Hamilton was alternatively vexed and delighted with Isabella’s performance but had to eventually conclude that she had begun to like the young woman so much that it interfered with her previous arrangements for her. Although she had intended to be bitingly merciless in training to utilize the soft forms of Donnyton’s power, she recently had been flinching from giving Isabella tasks that would likely leave emotional scars.

The sort of emotional scars that Miranda Hamilton used as reminders of the cost of making mistakes. And with those scars as her compass, the power that Randidly Ghosthound had left in Donnyton had grown to maturity even after he cut ties with them. Mrs. Hamilton did not believe it to be bragging to say that Donnyton’s continued political capital was due to her actions and foresight.

But it was a tiring business, always making sure they were on the cutting edge of the System. And a business that Mrs. Hamilton could see herself leaving soon. After all, Randidly’s lesson had been extremely clear. For what came next, they needed power.

Mrs. Hamilton was starting to believe that she might be better served by focusing her attention on the Skills that would make her individually powerful rather than continuing to prop Donnyton as a whole up.

In her secret, grey heart of hearts, perhaps she could admit to herself that she was slightly jealous that Alana had shed her responsibilities in Donnyton and run away to spend her time riding a fucking dragon.

The two women walked in silence until they began to leave the press of buildings and arrived at a broad expanse of greenery. The location that would host the party was just a hunched silhouette on the horizon as the stars began to come out, but the park itself was gorgeous. Not only were the trees and flower beds immaculately manicured, but the place was populated by small cocktail tables and large obsidian braziers that filled the place with ambient light.

Most of the partygoers appeared to have settled here, rather than proceeding into the event hall early. Yet individuals in sharp uniforms walked around the wide park with trays of food and drink, so it appeared that it was Kharon’s intention to keep here.

Mrs. Hamilton scanned the area and then turned to Isabella with a smile. Ah, so they’ve closed the door to keep us out for now. Interesting. “What do you see?”

Isabella was much more considered in her examination than Mrs. Hamilton had been. Her eyes were bright and focused. “...Warlord and his cohort are here already, discussing something with a group of ogres. Because they don’t wear any sort of uniform, difficult to tell what political power lies behind that ogre.

“Phirun is surrounded by almost twenty guards very near the building, and the table he commandeered is littered with empty champagne flutes. He came here mad. Nearby Han Yazhu looks exhausted, but the three women with him seem excited about something. Of everyone, it’s the women at that table that appear to be paying the closest attention to people coming and going between the tables.

“Some of the Orders are cautiously approaching Zone 7’s table, but likely just for polite greetings. Zone 7 still doesn’t seem willing to provide more support for Orders to move into its land. Paolo and Dozer are arguing about something, while my brother and Kayle are watching them while looking bored. There are more politicians and military people trying to look casual than I can count. Theodora Greyman and Mark Rowel are surrounded by people, but they are all people from Zone 1. Other than that, everyone is avoiding them like the plague-”

“But what group is watching the Zone 1 contingent, despite that?” Mrs. Hamilton interjected softly

Pausing in her speech, Isabella twisted her neck the smallest bit as though to check, but then stopped herself. Mrs. Hamilton’s smile widened as the young woman struggled to find what Mrs. Hamilton was talking about by relying solely on her memory.

“...I don’t recognize them. But… if I had to guess, it would be merchants. People from Kharon.” Isabella finally said.

Mrs. Hamilton nodded. “Politically, everyone will avoid them, but because of that isolation, less overt forms of support and benefit can thrive. Never think that any victory is absolute, or any defeat permanent. Also… what didn’t you see when you looked around?”

To her credit, this time Isabella answered immediately. “Randidly Ghosthound himself, or anyone from the Order Ducis. Sydney from East End or Ace from the Refuge. Lucifer from Franksburg. Alana Donal and Hank Howard. The rest of our Donnyton contingent. Helen. And also… the Nemesai.”

“Just so, but I suspect we will get some of those people soon. Listen,” Mrs. Hamilton raised her hand to the air and Isabella perked up. The wind rustled nearby trees, but when the wind died, what remained was a few quiet conversations happening nearby submerged in the deep silence of the night.

“I’m… not sure what I should be listening for,” Isabella eventually admitted.

As if on cue, the double doors to the party venue shuddered and then swung open. Mrs. Hamilton grinned. “And let the party begin.”

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