Valiant: The Covenant Chronicles

[Covenant #22: The Great Realignment]

Log Date: 9/16/12764

Data Sources: Jayta Jaskolka

Event Log: Jayta Jaskolka

The House of Regret: Kitchen

9:17am SGT

When I get downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast, it’s to find that instead of the usual scents of cooking and fresh food, I’m greeted by a racket of kitchenware clanking, banging, clattering, and rattling. Pausing at the counter, I watch the kitchen staff at work — but instead of cooking, it looks like they’re packing up the entire kitchen, putting stuff into boxes and crates, and piling it in the center of the kitchen.

“Uhhh… something going on that I’m not aware of?” I ask towards the group in general.

“Packin’ day, love.” one of the chefs grunts, stacking a crate in the middle of the kitchen. “Realignment’s just around the corner. We gotta get everything packed before tomorrow morning.”

I know that’s supposed to be informative, but it just leaves me more confused. “Realignment? Are we moving or something?”

“Looks like they haven’t told her what Realignment is.” says one of the waiter girls, who’s packing away the wine glasses in padded boxes.

“Well, would someone mind telling me what that is?” I ask, hitching a hand on my hip. “And can I get some breakfast, or are we not doing breakfast today…?”

“The Great Realignment happens every twenty-five years. It’s when Sjelefengsel rearranges itself, shifting terrain and cities across its surface to different configurations and time periods.” the head cook says, pulling a wheeled crate around the counter as she comes over to me. “The Houses of the Lords get moved as well. Sometimes they switch cities, though I’m hoping we get to stay by Hautaholvi.”

“I don’t mind if we move to another city, but I’d like a different time period.” says one of the waiter girls who’s packing up the cutlery. “Fingers crossed that we get to live in the space era. At the very least I’m hoping for the digital era.”

I blink at that. “In the… digital era? Are we moving around in time?”

“The architecture shifts time periods, but we don’t actually shift around in time.” the head cook says, digging around in the crate, coming up with an apple and planting it in my hands. “Presently the House of Regret is in the industrial era, as you can probably tell from the House’s… everything. If our time period gets shifted, the House will rearrange accordingly.”

“We might get a castle if it goes to medieval era.” another chef points out. “That would be cool. Drawbridge, castle walls, the whole nine yards.”

“Please no.” one of the waiter girls groans. “Modern era, please. If we go medieval, this place is gonna be freezing in the winter. If we get a modern time period, we can have central heating instead of having the fireplaces going twenty-four seven.”

“You think we could get heated floors if we got space era?” another waiter asks.

“Forget heated floors. How about a heated pool?” says one of the chefs.

“Oh man, a pool in hell? Sign me up.” agrees another chef.

“A pool would be ni— what’s this?” I ask as the head cook hands me a blueberry muffin to go with the apple.

“Breakfast, dear. That’s what you wanted, right?” she says, still digging in her crate.

“Well yes, but—”

“We aren’t going to be cooking anything today, dear, so you can get that idea out of your head right now.” she says, pushing a sealed fruit cup into my arms. “We’re going to be spending the entire day packing up the House; there’ll be no time for full-course meals, and everything will be premade or prepackaged food today. There’s an entire wine cellar that needs to be packed up, and that’ll take at least two hours. Now, do you prefer ham or turkey?”

“Uh… h-ham?” I stutter.

“Ham it is, then. Hope you like sliced bubble cheese.” she says, pushing a plastic-wrapped sandwich into my shoulders, followed by a bag of chips. “Dinner is gonna be ratpacks; we’ve got several different courses here…”

“Dinner’s what?”

“Ratpacks. Ration packs. Haven’t you ever heard of them before?”

“She prolly wasn’t in the military.” one of the chefs calls. “Civvies and the top brass call them MREs. Ground troops call ‘em ratpacks.”

“Oh, I do know what those are.” I say as the head cook starts to throw out olive-green packages on the counter. “Meals ready to eat? They used to sell them at the milsurp store where I grew up.” I stop to think about that. “Wait, hold up — where are you getting these from? Why do we have army rations from the mortal plane in hell?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, dear.” the head cook says, starting to thumb through the stacks of green packs on the counter. “So here’s what we’re got: chicken dinner, mac and cheese, Begnionese mac and cheese (it’s creamier), beef stroganoff, minestrone, cheese ’n broccoli soup, Moksan teriyaki noodle bowl, steak and potato, chicken tortilla, noriac flank and rice, and gryffin chicken with beans.” She looks at me. “Pick two.”

I stare at her, then at the startling large number of ratpack options. “I… I, uh… well…”

“Right. That sounds like beef stroganoff and noriac flank and rice to me.” she says, grabbing those two and throwing them atop the pile of food I already have in my arms. I let out a little grunt, struggling to hold it all without dropping any of it. “That’s your next four meals. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and breakfast again. Kitchen should be up and running again by lunchtime tomorrow, though don’t expect anything fancy. We’ll still be unpacking and getting used to the kitchen equipment for whatever time period we get stuck with.”

“Buh— but how am I supposed to—”

“We’ll be camping overnight, that’s why we’re doing ratpacks. Now go find a basket to stuff those in so you’re not walking around looking like a fool with your arms full of food.” she says, scooping the other ratpacks back into the crate and shooing me away. “Go on, get along. You should be packing up your room; we’re going to need to be out of the House by nightfall.”

With that, I’m chased out the the kitchen. I’m only in the hall for about ten seconds, still confused about all this, when Danya’s sharp voice almost scares me into dropping all the food I’m holding.

“Jayta! I see you’re finally awake; it took you long enough.” she says, striding down the hall towards me. “And you got your provisions from the kitchen; good. Do you have your room packed up yet?”

“I… what? Packing up my room?” I repeat, flummoxed. “Nobody told me this was going to be happening today!”

Danya lets out a longsuffering sigh. “I swear, child… for an aspiring scientist, there is a surprising amount that you remain ignorant of.”

“Wha— only because you guys never tell me anything!” I protest indignantly.

“To argue about it is to waste time.” she says, reaching over and grabbing a wicker basket from one of the harpies scurrying to the kitchen, presumably to get their provisions and provisions for their sisters as well. “Go down to the library and see Mek. He will provide you with a storage box for packing your room and explain what we will be doing in greater detail. I have to oversee the packing of the entire House and ensure that it is proceeding timely, so I cannot stand around and humor your questions today.”

I awkwardly fumble my provisions into the wicker basket, which Danya hands off to me as she walks past on her way to the kitchen. “Is Lord Syntaritov packing as well?” I ask.

“He is. Once you are done packing your room, you are to report to the study to assist him. Now get to it; the morning is already half spent and there is still much to do.” Stepping into kitchen, her voice rises to speak over the racket of kitchenware being packed up. “Head cook! Where do we stand? Your staff will need to pick up the pace if they expect to be done by nightfall; much of the House will still need to be packed up once you are done with the kitchen…”

Adjusting the basket on my arm, I start walking back down the hall, staying clear of the train of crow and shrike harpies that’s marching towards the kitchen, holding wicker baskets over their heads and chanting om-NOM! om-NOM! as they go. I can only imagine how loud it’s getting in kitchen as more of them arrive, and sure enough, as I’m turning the corner to head to the library, I hear Danya’s bellow clear down the hall.

“Would you all SHUT UP! We get it, you’re hungry! Graves of the gods, I can’t even hear myself think!”

Smiling to myself, I pull the apple out of my wicker basket, and take a bite out of it as I head off to go visit my favorite librarian.

Event Log: Jayta Jaskolka

The House of Regret: The Library Labyrinth

9:37am SGT

“Remember, you’ll need to bring that back! In the same condition that it was issued! You’ll be fined for every used condom and food wrapper I find in there when you return it!”

I step out of the way of one of the groundskeeping demons, who’s rolling her eyes as she leaves the labyrinth’s core with a box under her arm. Stepping into the center of the labyrinth, I see that Mek’s living space is even more cluttered than usual, with stacks of leather boxes crowding around the tables that have books piled on them. Mek himself is muttering as he scribbles a name into a logbook amid the clutter.

“You look busy.” I say, swallowing the chunk of apple I’ve bitten off.

His furred ears flick towards me first, the rest of his head following to look at me. “Ah! Jayta, good morning. I was wondering when you’d come to get your storage box.” he says, reaching up to adjust his spectacles. “How goes the packing for the rest of the House?”

“Well, they’re definitely packing.” I say, setting my basket down on one of the stacks of books. “Nobody told me this alignment thing was happening today.”

“To be expected. It’s a form of hazing; demons that have never been through a Realignment are not told about it beforehand.” Mek says, setting down his logbook. “So when one comes along, they are usually confused and scrambling to catch up. It’s a common time to play pranks on the newest demons.”

I snort, making my way over to where he’s rifling through the leather boxes. “Charming. Are there any other hazing rituals I should know about? I’ve been here for a year; I figured the hazing part would be over by now.”

“Well, if you seek my honesty, the hazing never really ends.” Mek says, coming up with one of the leather boxes that looks like it’s less battered and worn than the others. “It is hell, after all. Suffering is a quintessential feature of the whole experience, and there’s always a bigger fish further up the food chain. He may not speak about it, but even Lord Syntaritov is bullied by the Greater Lords from time to time. I am certain Lust takes an especial pleasure in it.”

“What she does is more along the lines of harassment.” I mutter. “So these are the boxes we’re using to pack our rooms? They’re kinda… small.” The one that Mek is holding looks to be about the size of a large briefcase. I haven’t had as much time to accumulate as much stuff as everyone else, but there’s no way even a quarter of my clothes are going to fit in there.

“They are.” Mek agrees, carrying to the briefcase over to a table, clearing some space so he can set it down. “It’s to maximize portability and storage. If we were to pack up the House using traditional methods, we’d need dozens of moving trucks. So instead…” He presses the buttons on the side, the clamps snapping open, and lifts the lid, before stepping back and gesturing for me to take a look. “…we rely on hammerspace whenever the House gets moved.”

I move to the table as he steps back, and peer into the briefcase to see that it opens up into what looks like a… set of stairs that leads down to a hall, with an elevator just barely visible at the end. After a moment of staring, I step back and bend to the side, looking under the table, but there’s nothing down there. Straightening back up, I peer back into the open briefcase, stick my arm in it to see if it’s an optical illusion, and find that my arm goes into it all the way up to the shoulder — much deeper than the briefcase looks on the outside.

Pulling my arm back out, I narrow my eyes at it. “I don’t like that.”

Mek chuckles a bit at that. “I understand. It’s a common sentiment for scientists. Would you like me to give you a tour of the interior so you understand how it works?”

“I dunno, I might prefer a regular suitcase, even if I have to pack like four or five of them…” I murmur hesitantly.

“It’s not so bad once you get accustomed to it. Come along, I’ll show you around.” Mek says, taking the briefcase and setting it on the ground. Shaking his manacle marks to life, he taps one of the translucent chainlinks, hooking the end of one of his chains to the floor just outside the briefcase. “Just in case someone tries to close it on us while we’re inside. That’s the one thing about hammerspace cases; it’s easy to get trapped in them and kidnapped if you’re not careful.”

“You’re not exactly inspiring confidence, Mek.”

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it grows on you, promise. Nomads on the mortal plane love them; it’s like being able to carry your home in a briefcase. Wandering, but never homeless.” he says, stepping into the briefcase and down the stairs. “Come along, come along. I got you one of the nicer ones. Most hammerspace cases don’t have an elevator installed.”

Gingerly stepping into the briefcase, I make my way down the stairs behind him, still weirded out by the fact that it seems like we’re stepping down into a building that shouldn’t exist. The hall within is lit by gently humming filament bulbs, tinted with a yellow glow; the walls are painted some shade of beige that easily assumes the color given off by the bulbs. The chain Mek’s left connected to the outside of the briefcase just gets longer and longer as we go, as if there was an infinite spool of it hidden within one of his glowing manacles. The elevator at the end is an old one; it has engraved doors, the enamel paint flaking off in some places as it opens. Mek steps inside, waiting for me to join him; when I step in, I notice the pad on the side of the elevator only has two buttons: up and down.

“Only two floors in this one, it seems.” he explains, hitting the down button. The doors rattle closed, Mek’s chain ghosting through them and rising to the ceiling as the elevator starts descending. Ten seconds later, the elevator slows to a halt, and the doors open again.

In front of us is a wide, ovoid room, with a fireplace directly across from us, a few couches and chairs scattered next to it, and open kitchen on the other side, and a spiraling ramp that winds around the edge of the room, leading up to a second-floor wraparound balcony. On the balcony floor, it looks like the panels of some of the walls have been removed or slid back, showing that there are closets or storage rooms hidden behind the panels. Stepping out of the elevator, I can see that support timbers hold up the balcony from below, and the areas between the support beams have been partitioned in some cases to house a shower room, laundry room, pantry… that sort of stuff. Everything has a rustic, earthy, warm feel to it — timber and brick instead of steel and plastic, or plaster and drywall.

I don’t like to admit it, but this is kind of… charming.

“Huh.” I say, stepping a little further into the room and looking around. “This is a lot of space. I don’t own this much stuff.”

“I would be surprised if you did.” Mek says, his padded feet silent over the thick floorboards as he follows me in. “I doubt you would have enough belongings to fill up this entire hammerspace. But I figured you would appreciate having somewhere nice to store them.”

I turn around, taking in the entire room as I make my way to the center. “But we won’t be out of the House very long, will we? How long does the alignment take?”

“Less than a day. But we cannot stay in the House overnight, because it starts reconfiguring itself after midnight. We need somewhere to sleep while it’s doing that, unless you want to sleep outside — so the House staff usually sleep within their hammerspace cases.” he explains. “Most hammerspace cases that are used for storage take the form of something along the lines of a warehouse, so demons typically just lay out their blankets and clothes and use those as bedding. This particular hammerspace case, however, was likely intended to be used as a traveling family residence. You can see that some of the partitioned areas underneath the balcony are bedrooms with sliding doors.”

“Family residence…?” I say, looking around the room to see the bedroom partitions he’s pointed out. “Are these cases things that were created in Sjelefengsel…?”

“Most of them are not. They are a collection of relics Lord Syntaritov has patiently acquired, one by one, at the Exchange.” Mek says, adjusting his spectacles. “They are artifacts from the mortal plane that have slowly made their way into other hands over the millennia. He originally collected them for research purposes only, so he could study hammerspaces, learn how they functioned, and apply that knowledge to designing a hammerspace of his own. But he quickly realized they had a certain utility during the Great Realignment.”

“Are you kidding me? You guys only bust these things out once every… what, twenty-five years?” I ask in disbelief, checking out the leather couches and recliners that got left behind. They’re old and well-worn, which is what makes them so comfortable — they’ve already been broken in, and you can feel yourself sink into them ever so slightly when you sit down on them. “Do you know the kind of utility something like this would have? A traveling house… you could move tons of people this way without having to pay travel fare for them… come to think of it, would probably be great for trafficking and smuggling people… or you could pack a bunch of soldiers in here to infiltrate behind enemy lines, then set them loose… or moving a ton of freight and goods that would normally require trailer trucks or space freighters… hell, you could have a roving shop that you could pretty much set up anywhere. There’s so many possibilities for something like this.”

“I’m glad to see you’re warming to the idea.” Mek says, sounding faintly amused. “You are correct; there are many utilities for something like this. On the mortal plane, hammerspace artifacts are highly coveted, and jealously guarded. They are extremely rare objects, very difficult to enchant, and knowledge of how to create these kinds of items is often lost to time as societies move into their digital age. It is why this one, and many of the others in our possession, have a certain rustic or industrial aesthetic. Most of them were created in a more primitive time.”

“Rare? You had like, dozens of them piled around your tables!”

“Well, yes. Rare, relatively speaking. There are thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands of hammerspace cases across the galaxy. But the galaxy is a big place, and even hundreds of thousands of such an item, sprinkled across the vast expanse of our galaxy, makes them a fairly rare occurrence.”

“Suppose that makes sense.” I admit, leaning back on the couch I’ve sat down on, looking at the brick fireplace and sizing up the firewood rack next to it. “Just a pity you guys only use them once every twenty-five years. Some real wasted potential there.”

“True. Mortals would have more use of these things than we demons would; demons rarely have a need for hammerspace cases in the way that mortals do. We do not often find ourselves moving large item volumes, and we are rarely nomadic in the way that mortals are. We may venture abroad, but in the end, we always return to Sjelefengsel, for it is our home.” Mek says, his furred fingers tracing along one of the support beams holding up the balcony. “Lord Syntaritov only issues hammerspace cases to demons on a very limited basis, and rarely for extended periods of time. Having such an item sometimes leads to… hoarding, and misbehavior. They start thinking that they can hide things from their Lord, which is generally not something one wants to encourage.”

“Well, I can see why they might think that.” I say, looking around the expansive room. “It feels like you could hide a ton of stuff in here. It feels more… private, I guess, than even a room in the House.”

Mek nods. “That being said, I think we could make an exception in your case. You are, after all, a demon of the Sixth Circle, an avenger of the Lord of Regret. You might have more need of such an item than most other demons. So if you find that you’d like to keep this particular hammerspace case after the Great Realignment is over, I can… remove it from the inventory, mark it off as a charitable donation for the yearly audit.”

I perk up at that. “Wait, you’re saying I can keep this? If I want to?”

“If you want to, yes.”

I stand back up at that, looking around the room. With as big as it is, this is basically a house, and a unique one at that. A house. Something I’d always dreamed of having as an adult, but something that was always out of reach for people that weren’t making a comfortably upper-middle-class income. But now it was something I could have, if I wanted. A house of my own.

“Yeah.” I say after a moment. “Yeah, I think I would like that.”

“I thought you might.” Mek says with a small smile, turning and starting to pad back towards the elevator. “It’s settled then; I’ll go ahead and mark it down in the logbook. We can keep it our little secret for now; if Lord Syntaritov finds out that I’m giving away hammerspace cases, he may have words for me.” He pauses to look over his shoulder. “Jayta?”

I look around from where I’d started up the ramp spiraling around the room up to the second-floor balcony. “Oh, uhm… I’ll be out in a few. I just wanted to take a look around.”

He nods. “Fair enough. There’s much to see in here. Take your time.” With that, he heads back to the elevator on his own, the doors eventually clunking shut as it starts to head back to the hall above. As the sound of the winches and cables fades, I place a hand on the ramp’s railing, taking a deep breath as I take in the room, and imagine how it might look if it was cleaned up and decorated, with a fire going in the hearth.

A place of my own, somewhere I could call home.

Event Log: Jayta Jaskolka

The House of Regret: Raikaron’s Study

2:07pm SGT

When I arrive to Raikaron’s study, it’s to find that the door is ajar. Easing it open a little, I peek inside. “My Lord?”

Raikaron looks up from a book he’s perusing, near the wall of shelves containing his library. “Ah, Jayta. Come in. I suppose you’ve finished packing up your room?” he asks, snapping the book closed. With the damage that his female vessel suffered during our last visit to the mortal plane, he’s now using his male vessel, which truthfully, is not altogether too different from the female one. Both of them are tall and slender; as far as I can tell, the male vessel is slightly taller, keeps shorter hair, and, well… is obviously a guy.

“Yeah, I got everything packed up… some of the harpies helped.” I say, stepping in and looking around. There’s a lot more going on in the study today; the first thing that stands out is what looks like some odd, puzzle-block tesseract floating in the air in the center of the study, while in the corner of my room to the left, Raikaron’s chrysalis — the pale green, glass egg-looking thing that he uses to store his spare body when he isn’t using it — is hovering near to the wall, casting its unearthly, watery glow against the shelves and wallpaper. Currently his female vessel is suspended in the liquid inside, stripped of its clothes and curled into a fetal position. The bullet hole in her forehead is still visible, and if it’s started to heal yet, it’s doing so too slowly to be noticed over the last week or so.

“Good to hear. Have Danya, Mek, and the others brought you up to speed on the Great Realignment?” he asks, making a waving motion. An entire row of books flies off the shelf he’s next to, flowing through the air like a centipede that disappears up into the gap within the puzzle-block tesseract in the center of the study.

“More or less. Everything shifts around, we might get moved to a different city and maybe get some different architecture for the House?” I say, wandering closer to the twisting, revolving anomaly in the center of the room.

“In as many words, yes.” Raikaron confirms, pulling a couple of glass-boxed artifacts off the shelf. “There are some additional nuances to it, but your assessment captures the general idea. The purpose is to keep Sjelefengsel from stagnating; to shake things up every quarter-century or so. It certainly does the trick, if you ask me; I will admit I am looking forward to a change of scenery, if we are permitted one.”

“So there’s chance we won’t go anywhere and the House won’t change?” I ask, standing directly beneath the tesseract now. The polygonal blocks that make it up look like they’re made of grey stone, each one probably weighing at least a ton. They glide seamlessly over each other, flipping along each other’s sides to form a cube, and then an octohedral star, and then a dodecahedron, and then an equilateral triangular prism, and more. For the most part, they form a cohesive exterior, but there is always a gap somewhere within the structure that allows a glimpse into the skewed reality within, which, as far as I can tell, looks like some sort of cathedral hall.

“A chance, yes. Very small, but a chance nonetheless.” Raikaron says, turning and walking over to join me. The two glass boxes are thrown up towards the tesseract, which reconfigures so that the gap is in the proper place to accept them. Pale hands reach out to catch the artifacts as they seem to fall up into the tesseract within, and Raikaron calls up into the gap. “How is it going, girls?”

Two of Trinity’s heads appear over the gap. “You move too quickly, Father.”

“Are not the other harpies available to help?”

“Your library is impressive, and impressively difficult to move in so short a time!” calls the third one, from somewhere out of sight.

“The other harpies do not understand the arcane like you do, Trinity.” Raikaron replies. “I do not trust them to treat my library with the deference it deserves.”

One of Trinity’s visible bodies examines the artifact she’s caught, while the other one plays with her sleek white hair, laced through with similarly white feathers. Her pale red eyes dart around, as if calculating the potential futures that only Trinity can see. “We will pack up your library, but you must take us to the Forbidden Fruit later.”

“Yes, the Forbidden Fruit.”

“And after you take us to the Forbidden Fruit, you should enjoy your forbidden fruit.”

Raikaron’s brows draw together at that last comment. “Simply because you speak in tongues does not mean you should not mind your tongues, girls.” he says sharply.

Trinity’s third body pops into view, the feathers in her hair raising at the reprimand. “You have taken a risk! Should you not enjoy the fruits of your transgression?”

“Precisely! You wait for the fruit to ripen, but if you wait too long, it shall spoil!”

“Or worse still, someone steals what you have labored over for so long!”

I glance at Raikaron. “What are they talking about?”

His lips press together. “Nothing.” he mutters, then calls up to them. “You will speak no more on this subject; you know I do not like it when you raise it in present company. I will take you to the Forbidden Fruit, if you pack my library in a timely manner.”

One of Trinity caws down at him, while the other two fluff their feathers. “You must slow down!”

“We are still not done with the last pile!”

“We cannot put away so many books so quickly!”

“Then I will show Jayta around while you are catching up.” Raikaron says, motioning his hands to either side. Collections of books from each side of the room fly off the shelves and flow up into gap in two orderly lines, curling out of view within. “And this will keep you busy while I am doing so.”

“Faaaaaather!”

“Why must you vex us so?”

“We will expect the Mondo Munchie at the Forbidden Fruit for this injustice!”

“Less talk, more book shelving!” Raikaron replies, unfazed by their complaints.

“They’re not used to working, are they?” I ask as they retreat from the gap, grumbling as they go.

“No, they are not.” Raikaron murmurs. “They are accustomed to gentler handling; I have never risked them to the extent that I do the other harpies. Clairvoyance is a rare gift, especially to the measure that Trinity possesses it, so I have always kept them close to me and away from the burdens of menial service.”

“Is that why they always have an escort when they leave the House?” I ask as one of the puzzle blocks starts to descend from the tesseract.

“It is, though one should not mistake gentle handling for vulnerability. They have been trained just as you have, though Trinity has a particular preference for knives and daggers.” he answers as the block comes to a rest on the carpet. “They may not seem like much of a threat, but there are few things as dangerous as someone that can predict what you’re about to do before you do it. It also makes them difficult to kidnap, and even harder to contain if you do manage to kidnap them.” With that, he steps onto the block, then offers a hand out to me.

I take it, stepping up onto the block with him. “Has that happened before? People trying to kidnap Trinity?”

“A few times, in the early years. Trinity is a rare manifestation of the Fates, individuals that come in sets of three and possess exceeding clairvoyance and prophetic abilities.” he answers as the block starts to rise. “The Fates surface in many cultures; they don’t seem to be limited to a single mythos, and only hypernaturals seem to know why or how they are so widespread. Those that control the Fates operate at a considerable advantage relative to other individuals, so it is only natural that other powerful individuals try to kidnap them, in an effort to expand their own power and leverage over competitors. After the first couple of times it happened, we started taking measures to discourage future attempts, and there have only been two attempts since then, both of which failed. One of them rather spectacularly… but that’s a story for another time.”

I look around as the block we’re on rises up to fill the gap we had been staring through. We’re now standing in what appears to be a vast stone hall… or library… or… something. I don’t really have a word for it, since it appears to be several things rolled into one; it is a high-ceiling’d room with innumerable shelves for books; near the far wall is a great firepit, with tables, couches, and chairs arrayed around it in a circle; in the center of the room itself is a round stone table which looks like it may conceivably be used for meetings.

But it doesn’t stop there; the walls are hinged to the floor by what appear to be curving ramps, and it takes me a moment of staring at the walls, and seeing one of Trinity walk along them, to realize that the walls are also floors that have their own gravitational pull - because the wall closest to us holds what appears to be a grand kitchen, with countertops, appliances, fridges, pantries, the whole nine yards, all of it sticking out from the wall as if they had been glued there. Looking around again, I quickly realize that the entire structure is a massive cube, with eight great pillars extending from the corners and meeting in the center of the cube, demarcating the boundaries of the gravitational direction for each side of the cube. There are no ‘walls’ or ‘ceiling’ in here — each side of the cube is a floor of its own. And all of it clearly much larger than the area that its exterior is occupying in Raikaron’s study.

“Is this a…” I say, slowly turning around as I absorb it all.

“My personally designed hammerspace, yes.” Raikaron answers. “The hammerspaces within the cases that Mek has in inventory are decidedly more pedestrian. Practical, as it were. Which is to be expected; enchantments that bend and fold dimensions in such a manner are already complicated enough for mortals, and generally speaking, the more complex a hammerspace, the more complex the enchantments become. Practicality demands simplicity in that regard, so hammerspaces like this one are rare, and are generally the province of deminatural or hypernatural entities.”

“Yeah, no joke.” I murmur. “There’s so much going on here. You’ve got gravity manipulation, spacial warping, god knows what else…”

“Indeed. It can serve as a home away from home when needed; a safehouse or shelter from inclement elements and environments.” he says, walking across the wide floor towards one of the bordering walls, which looks like what might be a laboratory, as it has several worktables with equipment on them, racks and shelves full of liquids and minerals, and massive glass tanks that look like they’re large enough to contain a body in a liquid suspension. “Most importantly, it fulfills all these functions while being able to fit into a pocket with room to spare. From the exterior, it is at once easy to hide and to transport.”

That gets my attention. “Wait, are you serious?” I ask, following him. “All of this is condensed into something that you could fit into your pocket? That’s insane, the hammerspace cases Mek was giving out were at at least the size of briefcases!”

“That’s exactly what they are: briefcases.” Raikaron agrees, raising his hands. In the laboratory, some of the blocks that make up the floor start pushing outwards, forming a larger gap. “Mortals have never been able to get hammerspaces to condense much smaller than that, and besides, it presents issues with actually entering the hammerspace if you make its container too small. Once you get below a certain size threshold, you need a dynamic entrance instead of a static entrance, and a container with variable exterior sizing, which is what this hammerspace has. Unfortunately, the mortals in this galaxy have not yet figured out workable enchantments for that, and it may be a while yet before they manage to do so, considering how knowledge of hammerspace relics has largely fallen into obscurity.”

“Geez…” I mutter, watching as Raikaron’s chrysalis slowly glides through the gap that has opened in the side of the hammerspace that contains the lab. “Mek said that societies that have magic lose knowledge of how to create hammerspaces as they move into their digital age. Why is that? Stuff like this would solve all sorts of housing and population problems.”

Raikaron shrugs as the blocks move back into place beneath the chrysalis. “The advent of science has a way of pushing magic aside; it’s a common pattern in the growth of societies. Some societies, like the Masklings, wereckanan, or the Rantecevangians, end up integrating the two into magitech; and in other societies they simply do away with magic altogether, at least until they reinvent it in the form of psionics.” Turning away from that wall, he folds his hands behind his back as he slowly walks back towards the bookshelves. “It may be that magic represents a unique instability that is simply difficult to control, and which becomes a liability to good governance and peaceful society. Freeform magic has a way of exaggerating, or perhaps amplifying, both the good and the evil that people are capable of. You see this in the colonies of the Rantecevang Diaspora; they are truly magical, fantastic places relative to other locations in the galaxy, but the crime rate trends higher on average, and they spurn galactic laws in favor of governing each colony the way the community sees fit. The reason the Colloquium no longer tries to bring them into line is because Ranters, nearly to a man, can use magic, and use it well. And it is very difficult for outsiders to tell a community what to do when everyone from the village idiot to the cafe grandma can have a fireball lit on a moment’s notice and be willing to chuck it in your direction if you start telling them how to run their colony.”

I scratch the back of my neck as I follow him, thinking about that. “Yeah, I guess that definitely makes law enforcement hard… so for the sake of stability, societies tend to move away from magic as they get more advanced?”

“Generally speaking.” Raikaron says, taking off his glasses and blowing a few motes of dust off them. “Science is a type of knowledge which does not lend an individual the immediate destructive potential that many varieties of magic typically do. There is often a lot of work that goes into making science dangerous; it has to be applied in very specific ways in order to be harmful, and that barrier to dangerous use is what makes it more palatable to governments.” He puts his glasses back on after cleaning them. “At least, that is the personal view I have on the matter. I’m only three thousand years old, so take that with a grain of salt.”

I chuckle a little at that. “And you don’t look a day over thirty.”

“Well of course not. What immortal creature would want to spend centuries in a decrepit body?”

“Fair.” I admit with a shrug, then sneak a glance at him. “You’re really three thousand years old?”

“It’s not as old as it seems, truly.” he says, folding his hands behind his back once more. “The wereckanan can live to be four thousand years old, and they are mortal creatures. Many hypernaturals are millions of years old; Primordials, billions. As immortal creatures go, I am young. I recognize that and accept that even if my years far exceed most mortals, my experience is far from complete, and my wisdom is limited by my years.”

“Well that’s very… mature of you.” I say, pausing a moment to find the right word. “I couldn’t imagine living for that long. I feel like at some point, you’d get bored. You would’ve tried everything you wanted to try.”

“Conceivably, yes. That is often the case for mortals.” he says, peering down one of the rows of bookshelves to see two of Trinity hard at work, putting away books. “By the end of their natural lives, they are ready to move on. Yet I would venture this is not because they have done all that they have wished to do, or learned all that they have wished to learn. I would posit, instead, that their willingness to move on is due not to the length of time they have lived, but to the fact that they are, more often than not, weary.”

“Weary?” I repeat, my brows furrowing.

“Indeed.” he says, straightening up and continuing to walk along the rows of bookshelves. “Let us examine the differences in age between humans and wereckanan, if you will. Humans have an average lifespan of one hundred and thirty years; wereckanan, an average lifespan of roughly four thousand years. Humans at the tail end of their lifespan are often tired and ready to pass on peacefully. Yet a wereckanan at a hundred and thirty years is still quite full of life and will happily continue exploring and experiencing new things. Both individuals have lived the same span of time, and presumably, have had roughly equivalent opportunities to experience what life has to offer. Yet the human will grow tired of life, while the wereckanan does not. Why do you think this is?”

“Well, the wereckanan’s still young, right?” I say, pointing out the first thing that comes to mind. “I don’t even think they’re fully mature at that age. They don’t reach full adulthood for two hundred years or so, right?”

“Three hundred. In the same way that humans don’t finish fully maturing until about twenty-five, wereckanan finish developing as adults around the three-century mark.” Raikaron explains. “So tell me, what is the difference between the human and the wereckanan? Why does one tire of life while the other does not?”

“Well, the human’s old, right?” I ask. The answer feels too obvious, and I’ve got a suspicion that Raikaron might pull a fast one on me. “And the wereckanan is still young.”

“Precisely.” Raikaron says. “The difference lies in aging. A human that is a hundred and thirty years old is frail. Their body is worn down; it cannot keep up. Their desire to experience new things is impacted by the fact that their body no longer has the capacity to handle new experiences. The experience of simply existing, simply living, can be tiring when your body has lost the ability to handle the burdens of life. It is not the length of time which makes a soul weary, but the burdens imposed by the body one must experience life in. If it were the length of time alone, many longer-lived species would lose the will to live in the midst of their prime. But they do not, because life is still enjoyable for them. It is not a burden to experience new things when your body is capable of handling it.”

I take a moment to mull that over before I respond. “So you’re saying… I’ve been conditioned to think I’d get tired of life after a century?”

“Well — not necessarily.” he equivocates, giving a minor shrug. “Think of it this way: all mortal creatures know they will tire of life once they get old. For the wereckanan, that’s near the tail end of their fourth millennium. For elves, that’d be their fifth century. For humans, a little past their first century. And that point, one does start to get bored, and lose interest in life, because life becomes wearisome, and the detriments of continued existence start to weigh more heavily while the benefits start to diminish. To summarize: people grow tired of life when the act of existence itself starts to become a burden. One’s body, and how fast it ages, is a big factor in that — though not the the only factor, by any means.”

“And if you never age…” I follow up.

Raikaron gives a small smile. “Then life retains its allure for quite a while longer.” he says, reaching down to scoop up Cinder, who’s peeking around one of the bookshelves. “Hallo there.”

“Hey, how’d you get in here?” I say, glaring at Cinder as Raikaron drapes her over his shoulder. “I was wondering why I hadn’t seen you all morning…”

“Cats have a particular relationship with hammerspaces.” Raikaron says, supporting her hind legs while he pets her back. “They have a way of finding their way into nearby hammerspaces, even if they aren’t open. Cinder has regularly frequented this one over the past six months or so — this is not the first time she’s been in here.”

“Figures.” I mutter. “This is probably where she’s been sneaking off to on those days when I don’t see her for hours on end. Plenty of nooks and crannies in here for her to get into.”

“Oh, without a doubt. It’s a veritable playground for her.” Raikaron agrees as she rubs the top of her head against his jaw. Lifting her up, he hands her off to me. “Why don’t you take her and explore? There’s a lot to see in here. Once you’re done peeking around, you can help Trinity shelve books.”

“I’m sure they’ll love having the help.” I say, giving him a flat look as I cradle Cinder in my arms, her tail flitting back and forth. “You gonna take me to the Forbidden Fruit too if I help them?”

He gives a little smile. “If you’re not as petulant as they are, perhaps.”

“I’m not petulant.” I say, sticking my tongue out at him, then twisting on my heel and marching off. “C’mon, Cinder. Let’s go see if he’s hiding anything interesting in here.”

Event Log: Jayta Jaskolka

Jayta’s Hammerspace: Main Room

9:54pm SGT

“Ancient relics, faded memories.”

“You would throw away such things?”

“One man’s memories are another man’s trash.”

Trinity’s voices drift through the room as I pull boxes out of the closets up on the balcony, going through their contents so I can figure out what to keep and what to throw away. After getting the House packed up, everybody had exited into the front yard with their hammerspace cases, and we’d pretty much set up camp out there, starting up fires and cooking our ratpacks for dinner. According to the other demons, the House would collapse at midnight, and start the process of reconfiguring itself for the Realignment. For obvious reasons, you didn’t want to be inside it when that happened.

“Scrapbooks? Scrapbooks. What curious things.”

“Perhaps we should keep one.”

“It is of unique benefit to those who suffer from avenoir…”

Setting down the box I’m hauling, I lean on the balcony railing and shout down to the floor, where Trinity’s sorting through a pile of stuff, and dividing it into stuff that’s useful and stuff that’s worthless. Worthless stuff is anything that’s damaged, broken, moth-eaten, and so on, while stuff that’s useful is stuff that I’ll go through later to see if I’ll keep it. “Hey! Are you working, or are you playing?”

“We are helping.” Trinity replies.

“But we will help at our own speed.”

“Or if you want, we could not help at all.”

I snort at that. “Hell, might go faster if I was doing it on my own.” I say, picking up one of the boxes and starting down the ramp. “You guys have never worked a day in your life.”

“We work.”

“We just work smart, not hard.”

“Make sure to lift your left foot higher.”

“Wha—” I start to ask, then feel my left foot catch on one of the planks on the ramp. I shout as I go sprawling, the box flying down the ramp and spilling its contents — dozens of books — along the ramp. Wincing as I roll over, I can see that the plank I tripped over is raised slightly from the ramp, warped with age. The sound of tittering gets my attention, and I glance through the slats in the railing to see Trinity covering their mouths and giggling. “Oh, you just think you’re so clever, don’t you.”

“We warned you.”

“You did not listen.”

“Work smart, not hard.”

“You only gave me a half a second of notice, you feathery brats!” I snap, picking up one of the books and throwing it over the railing at them. “What good is a seer if they tell you the future at nearly the same time that it’s happening?”

Trinity scatters as the book lands near them, cawing crossly. “Do not! We will tell Father if you hit us!”

“Yes, we will tell Father!”

“He will make you squirm, and not in the good way!”

I pause in picking up the books, narrowing my eyes at them. “Excuse me? Squirming in the ‘good’ way? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Cross expressions morph into sly looks. “What do you think it means? Mm?”

“Maybe he will tickle you. That’s good squirming, isn’t it?”

“Yes, totally. That is what we meant.”

I huff a breath through my nose, going back to picking up books and putting them back in the box. “Seers didn’t strike me as the sort to tell sex jokes. Which is exactly what you meant, you little gremlins, don’t deny it.”

Trinity slowly convenes on their sorting piles once more, smoothing out the wrinkles in their long, draping tunics and wide sleeves. “Oh, we do more than just tell jokes.”

“We like having fun as well.”

“We are simply more deliberate about it than our sisters are.”

“You three. Have had sex.” I say, raising a doubting eyebrow as I finish putting the books back in the box, and pick it up again.

“More than you’ve had, at least.”

“And possibly more than you ever will.”

“Maybe. It’s sixty-forty yet.”

“Oi!” I protest as I come off the ramp. “Aurescura above, y’all are vicious. You don’t need to go around calling me out like that.” I drop the box in the pile of stuff to be sorted. “And what’s that supposed to mean? Sixty-forty?”

Out come the sly grins again. “We don’t know. What does it mean?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know. Mhmm.”

“Lots of futures for you, yes. You have lots of fun in some of them.”

“You three only pretend to be prim and proper. You’re just as crass and lewd as the rest of the harpies.” I mutter, turning and heading back to the ramp. “And if you think Raikaron’s gonna come down on me for throwing the book at you, you’ve got another thing coming. I know where I stand with him.”

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it? You don’t stand with him.”

“Beside him, but not with him.”

“We know you turned his admission aside.”

I stop on the ramp, staring at them. “You what?”

One of them winds a finger through a lock of long white hair. “Although he was a she at the time, was he not?”

“Yes, she told you not to ask questions you did not want the answer to, but you asked anyway. Tsk tsk.”

“We foresaw that future, and it came to pass. Shame, really; Father does not confess his motives idly.”

It’s coming back now, the conversation I had with Raikaron on Valentin’s Day. A stupid day, if you ask me. “Wait, you know about that? Were you spying on us?”

“Did you not hear us? We foresaw that future, and it came to pass.”

“Spying. Please, we know better than to spy on Father.”

“You are not as favored of Father as you think yourself to be. You think yourself close to him, but he holds you at a careful distance now, even if you do not perceive it.”

I don’t like the way this conversation’s going. “Look, you little gremlins, my personal life is none of—”

“No more book throwing!” Trinity interrupts, pointing a finger at me. “Or we will tell Father!”

“And he will side with us, yes he will. For we are his daughters.”

“And a father loves a daughter more than he loves a lover. And you are not even that.”

I roll my eyes, leaning on the railing. “You’re not actually his daughters, you do realize that, right? He found you all and adopted you. You all imprinted on him because that’s what harpy chicks do to the first breathing thing they see after they hatch!”

“Family is beyond the bond of blood.”

“Hypocrite you are in this, are you not?”

“For you and your brother were adopted, were you not?”

I open my mouth, realize that they’re right, then snap it closed and glare at them. “Look, we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you three. Besides, at least my adopted mother is the same race as me. Your adopted father is a gigantic goddamn corrupted forest spirit wolf thing with a chest maw and all these…” I make wriggling motions with my hands. “…these… creepy chest arm things!”

Trinity raises her eyebrows. “Yeah? So?”

“Creatures of the Dreaming come in many shapes and sizes.”

“Did his true form scare you? It terrifies lesser creatures.”

“Of course it scared me, have you seen it?” I say incredulously. “Chest maw! With mandible arms! He looks like something out of a nightmare!”

“Well of course. He is a child of the Dreaming.”

“It would be strange if his true self did not resemble a nightmare.”

“You are very silly sometimes.”

I let out an exasperated sigh, pushing off the railing and starting to walk up the ramp once more. “What even is he, anyway? And don’t say ‘a creature of the Dreaming’, that’s what everybody says he is. What kind of Dreaming creature is he?”

“We cannot say, for that is what he is.”

“There are no races in the Dreaming.”

“Each creature of the Dreaming is a unique being; a race unto themselves, a species of one.” Trinity explains, going back to sorting through the detritus left behind in this hammerspace.

“So there are no other creatures like him in the Dreaming?” I ask as I reach the balcony again and head back to the closet I was cleaning out.

“Like him? No.”

“Similar to him in appearance? Perhaps.”

“But none that are exactly what he is. Every creature in the Dreaming is one of a kind, a living, evolving race unto themselves.”

“Okay, okay, I got it.” I say before they start repeating themselves again. “Are all of them that big? Because good gods, he is huge when he’s fully manifested.”

“Heheh.”

“Haha.”

“That’s what she said.”

I glare over the balcony railing at them. “You know, I think it’s time for you three to go to bed. We’re two hours shy of midnight.”

All three of them bounce to their talon’d feet in a single, synchronized motion, leaving their sorting piles and filing towards the elevator. “Good point, yes.”

“We should go now, our bedtime approaches.”

“There will be much to do tomorrow, much to explore.”

I narrow my eyes at how quickly and easily they acceded to my dismissal. “…you knew I would respond that way, that’s why you made that joke, isn’t it! You wanted an excuse to stop working!”

“We can neither confirm nor deny this accusation.”

“We are going to bed now, and so should you.”

“Have a good night, forbidden fruit.”

“Hey!” I snap at them, leaning over the railing a bit more as they disappear out of view beneath the balcony. “What’s that supposed to mean, huh? Does that mean you were talking about me earlier when you were being all coy with Raikaron? Huh? Get back here and answer me, you feathery little punks!”

The only answer is tittering and giggling that’s shortly cut off by the elevator doors clunking shut. Huffing out a hassled breath, I pull myself back over the railing and push off it, looking around. There’s at least a dozen closets and rooms still needing to be cleared out, and twice as many boxes full of the junk from the previous occupants of this hammerspace. Not to mention all the stuff that’s still on the floor in the main room, which I still need to go through to see if Trinity actually sorted any of it properly. I’ve got a feeling that their idea of ‘useful’ might not match the definition that I have.

It ain’t gettin’ done tonight, and considering I’ve spent the entire day packing and moving stuff, I think I’ll throw in the towel for now.

Kicking a box out of the way, I head back towards the ramp. My rest has been well-earned, so I’ll flop down on one of the beds in the rooms under the balcony, take a shower in the morning, and see what tomorrow holds. And if the House changes time periods, which I hope it does…

Maybe we’ll get something better than that godawful wallpaper and those stuffy halls.

Event Log: Jayta Jaskolka

Jayta’s Hammerspace: Entry Hallway

9/17/12764 8:09am SGT

I check my phone as I’m walking down the entry hall of the hammerspace, fighting off a yawn. I’d slept okay-ish last night; I wasn’t familiar with the bed I’d been using, so it hadn’t been as easy to fall asleep. It was the hunger that got me up and moving; all I had left in my provisions basket was the ratpack I’d saved for this morning. Quietly, I was hoping that the House would already be settled and ready to go when I came out; beef stroganoff was good, but having it for breakfast was… not something I was really looking forward to.

Tucking my phone away, I head up the stairs, planting a hand on the underside of the briefcase lid and pushing it open. The light streaming in has me squinting a little after coming out of the cloying yellow light of the hall, and I finish coming up the stairs, going to take a step out of the briefcase — and shrieking when I realize that I’m stepping out into thin air. I’d push backwards, but there’s nothing to push against, and I start to pitch forward even as I desperately twist and flail.

“I told you not to put your hammerspace case on the edge of the border circle.”

I find myself hanging by the back of my jacket over a vast abyss, someone keeping me from falling into open air by the collar of my jacket, some half a mile or so above the Hautaholvi badlands. My heart is pounding in my chest as I’m pulled back and lifted onto the ground that my hammerspace case is resting on, finding that it’s Danya that caught and pulled me back. The expression on her face reads unsurprised disappointment as she sips from her tea.

“Whu— why are we up in the goddamn sky?!” I gasp, clasping a hand to my chest as I stagger back from the edge, then dart forward and grab my hammerspace case, dragging it back with me. “We were on the ground last night!”

“That is part of the Great Realignment. Sjelefengsel rips itself apart and rearranges itself like a geological puzzle every twenty-five years. The border circle that Lord Syntaritov laid down around the House and the grounds last night keeps the estate in one piece while that’s happening.” Danya says, gazing out across an apocalyptic scene. For as far as the eye can see, the familiar geography of Sjelefengsel is tearing itself apart, chunks of geological crust floating through the sky as tectonic plates slowly crack and start lifting into the sky. Underneath them, there’s no mantle, but a roiling, orange miasma that resembles a star’s corona, whichth is probably the mass of damned souls that powers Sjelefengsel. “Hence why both I and Lord Syntaritov told you not to put your hammerspace near the edge of the border circle.”

“But it was crowded around the campfires…” I protest faintly, still staring across the apocalyptic scene. “Where’d Hautaholvi go? Did it…?”

“Hautaholvi is intact, as are all the other cities and estates of the Lords.” Danya says, using her foot to shut my hammerspace case, then reaching down to snap the clasps shut and hold it out to me. “In the same way that the Estate of Regret is encircled with a ward that keeps it from being ripped apart, the same method is employed for the cities and other major settlements. It would be rather difficult to go to work if you find out one morning that your office has been torn out of the city and relocated to the other side of Sjelefengsel.”

I take my briefcase back, looking around. Behind us are the grounds of the House, with the hammerspace cases for the staff littered across the main path leading to the the front door of the House… which has turned from a mansion to a writhing, twisting ball of nebulous color hovering in the air above the grounds.

“And, umm… I suppose that’s supposed to be happening also?” I say, pointing to the thrashing ball of color.

“Correct. It should be resolving shortly.” Danya says, turning and starting to stride back to the field of suitcases on the grounds. A lot of the other demons are waking up and climbing out of their hammerspace cases, with the early wakers already stoking the fires and getting them going again so breakfast can be had. “Once the House settles, we will likely spend the remainder of the day unpacking. After you are assigned your room, you are to unpack, then assist Trinity in getting Lord Syntaritov’s study unpacked as well. The affairs of the House must resume as quickly as possible, or we will risk a backlog in our workload, so you are not to retire until the Lord Syntaritov’s study has been fully restored. Is that understood?”

I hurry to keep up with her. “Why can’t Raikar— Lord Syntaritov unpack the study himself?”

“I’m sure if he could, he would.” Danya replies, her heels clopping against the stone of the main path. “But whereas packing the old House was a simple matter, unpacking into a new House involves a new floor plan that none of us will be familiar with. I will be aiding Lord Syntaritov with a tour of the House’s new configuration so we can determine which rooms will be used for what purposes, and ensure that rooming assignments for the residential staff are in accordance with their station in the House.”

“So does that mean…?”

“Do not worry, you will still have one of the best rooms in the House. The square footage may vary but the level of luxury will likely be the same. Not that you deserve it, but we both know how these things go.”

“Hey!” I protest, skipping a bit to keep up with her long-legged stride. “I’ve been a good avenger! I’ve done all the tasks that Raikaron’s given me, and I’ve tried to do them as quickly as possible, and I haven’t complained… mostly… and I’m getting better at doing the complicated ones!”

That earns me an arched eyebrow from Danya, who sips from her tea as she gives me a condescending side-eye. “…it is true, you have carried out your tasks to the mortal realm with increasing efficiency and alacrity. I will note, however, that those tasks are generally enforcement actions, and beating people senseless, while certainly an art unto itself, does not require much in the way of finesse and nuance. If you wish to truly earn your rank in the House, then there are matters of representation and management which will further qualify you for the station you have been given. When your Lord can trust you to represent him and manage his subordinates, then you will have reached your full potential as an avenger for the Lord of Regret.” She pauses to kick aside one of the hammerspace cases that’s been left in the middle of the path, just as a demon is trying to climb out of it. “Luckily for you, there is a season of opportunity approaching. You will have chances in the coming months to sharpen your social skills and prove your merit in the work-related social events Lord Syntaritov will be attending this year.”

“Oh c’mon!” I complain. “Just for once, can you admit I’m doing well without telling me I could be doing better? It’s never enough for you.”

“You currently enjoy luxuries and authority beyond your attainment. I am well within my rights to acknowledge your improvements, while pointing out that more is expected of you to be worthy of the privileges you have been accorded.” Danya replies loftily.

“Earning stuff? Being worthy? I thought we were in hell, not heaven.” I grumble. Adjusting my grip on my hammerspace case, I eye her suspiciously. “I don’t like the sound of ‘work-related social events’. That sounds like a fancy phrase for a company party.”

“The comparison holds. There are speeches, entertainment, socializing, and all the maneuvering and plotting that typically accompanies such high-level gatherings and getaways. Although the stakes are decidedly higher than one would find in social events for even the most massive gigacorps.” Danya slows down, then stops, holding out a hand to stop me as well. “…stay on the path. Everyone, get onto the path!”

I look at her, then at the field of briefcases around us. Only a few of the demons are paying attention to her, and the ones that are give her bleary looks. “What is it?” I ask her.

“The House is ready.” Danya says, nodding to the center of the grounds. The writhing ball of color and dimension has starts to thrash with greater volatility, and without warning, it funnels into a long strand that penetrates deep into the ground. Our floating chunk of land shudders, cracks running through the ground as portions of it start flipping over in an outward-rushing ripple that rapidly moves from the center of the estate out to its edges. In the process, the vast majority of the hammerspace cases and demons alike get flung high into the air by the flipping slabs of ground — pretty much anything that’s not on the main path gets thrown into the air, and instead of coming down on manicured grass, it’s slamming back onto broad, flat slabs of igneous rock.

I wince, shielding my eyes as briefcases and demons start raining down on the House’s new, hard grounds.

“Oh my.” Danya mildly remarks over the screaming of startled demons and the thuds of said demons, and suitcases, hitting the hard ground. “It appears we’ll be situated on a hardened lava flow. Well, this should cut down on the monthly water bill by a good margin.”

I don’t have time to respond to that, because the ground in the center of the estate is starting to erupt, a thrashing miasma of color and dimension tunneling out of the ground and rapidly expanding. The predominant color in the whirling mass seems to be white, with a touch of blue, and the reason why quickly becomes clear: the twisting, bulging anomaly is starting to settle into the shape of a modern cliffside mansion with gentle, curving walls, wide and floating balconies, multiple floors that get smaller the higher they go, and all of it rendered in a clean white that contrasts sharply with the volcanic stone that serves as its foundation. Visible on some of the balconies, and within the open courtyard near the center of the House, are splashes of blue.

“Are those… pools?” I ask incredulously.

Danya sighs, sipping from her teacup. “Nevermind, there goes the water bill…”

The demons that stayed on the path are noticing as well. “Graves of the gods! Guys, we get a pool at this House!”

“What, no way!”

“Oh man, I’m gonna go swimsuit shopping next time I get a day off!”

“Oh gods… my arms… my spine… why did our lawn turn into stone…”

“C’mon guys, this place looks good! We’re talking late digital age, maybe early space age! There’s going to be air conditioning and maybe heated floors and thank Lilith I won’t have to clean any more fireplaces!”

“Mm. Looks like the help are getting a little too excited.” Danya mutters, starting down the path to the revamped House, calling to the rest of the demons as she goes. “Slow down! And don’t any of you dare so much as stick a toe in those pools until our Lord has had a chance to tour his new domain!”

I move towards the revamped House along with Danya and the other demons, soaking in the change of architecture. We now have a porch that wraps around much of the first floor, with its roof doubling as a balcony for the second floor. A couple of the lower floors curve around the courtyard and the pool, partially enclosing it, while the walls of the courtyard itself are mostly glass, allowing you to see into the courtyard from most angles. Inside the main foyer, the straight halls and double-winged staircase have been replaced by a single wide staircase that rises up through the House, with landings at each floor.

“Hmm. A refreshing change of pace, but overall the indoor footprint seems to be smaller. Social events may have to spill outside if they get too large, though that shouldn’t be an issue with the porch and balconies.” Danya says, her heels clicking over the faux-wood floors as she follows the curve of the foyer deeper into the first floor. “I wonder if we still have a basement. We better, or we will need to find a different place to store the wine and to host the Iron Liver each year…”

She disappears around the curve without looking over her shoulder, and I take the opportunity to slip up the stairs instead of following her. The second floor looks like it opens into a hall, with evenly-spaced rooms that have empty nameplates; likely bedrooms. Passing that by, I head up to the third floor, where it likewise opens up into a hall; however, this hall occasionally opens up into open areas that seem to be the modernized equivalent of the parlor rooms in the old House, with couches and low tables and a balconies outside. Trotting along the third-floor hall, I follow it all the way to its end, there there’s an unlabeled door. Like all the other doors I’ve seen so far, it’s unlabeled and has no doorknob; shifting my hammerspace case to the same arm I’m using to hold my wicker basket, I place my hand against it. It hisses open, and I step inside to find a wide, open bedroom with a king-sized bed, a terrarium installed in the wall and running the length of the room, and a couple doors leading to a bathroom and a closet. One of the walls is glass, leading out to a balcony that looks out over the cliff the House sits on.

“Like it?”

The voice startles me, and I twist around to see Raikaron leaning in the doorway behind me, hands tucked in his pockets. “Yeah! Yeah, it’s… a nice room. A lot different than the old House.” I say, looking back around to take in the room.

“It’s all yours if you want it, then.”

That has me turning back around. “What, the… room? I can have this room if I want?”

“Indeed.”

I take a deep breath, sizing up the room, the terrarium, the view from the balcony, and slowly nod. “…yeah. Yeah, I think I would like this room.”

“Go ahead and start unpacking, then. I’ll inform Danya.” he says, pushing off the doorway. “Once you’re done, I’ll need your help unpacking my study. It’ll be on this floor, the middlemost room.”

“Understood. I’ll be over once I finish getting settled in.” I say as he turns and heads back into the hall. As his footsteps fade, I set the wicker basket and the hammerspace case on the bed, and head over to the glass wall, sliding the door open and stepping out onto the wide balcony. Moving to the railing, I plant my hands on it and take a deep breath as I stare out across Sjelefengsel, watching as it continues tearing itself apart and rearranging the chunks of its crust like a geological puzzle.

It’s definitely new and different, but I think it’ll be a good change of pace.