But as she and a contingent of guards and nobles turned into a passage leading back up to the surface, an oval of energy pulsed into their path.
Jularra had to whip out an arm to stop an overzealous subordinate from attacking.
“No,” she said calmly. “We’re not in danger. You all continue on. I’ll be there shortly.”
The bright oval subsided. The bright white figure, hazily resembling that of a human, stood ahead of her. A Gift God. There were few discernible details to the figure’s appearance, except those of small, darker marks akin to stitching, etching, or possibly even organic structures, like veins or arteries. Where the head of the entity might be, a flowing hood seemed to hang down, giving no glimpse of a face of any kind.
Jularra jumped as the Gift God began to speak to her. Their unpredictable communication always startled her, and their odd interactions usually left her amused; they didn’t converse with her so much as they spoke at her.
“Your visual invention was a remarkable feat,” the Gift God began. Its voice echoed, though it spoke softly. “We commend you for your skill in this particular facet of the arts.”
“Thank you—”
“It was most admirable,” the entity continued, “that you used your skills to minimize the loss of life. Though it was in the context of a war, we understand that you felt it necessary in order to feed your people.”
Jularra tried to determine if she should bother replying or not.
“Yes… I was afraid of how that might be received, but I’m glad you—”
“For your impressive display of illusion this day, we award you a Credellion.”
Similar to the Credellion she had been awarded after dispatching Vilfarin, another golden object grew into existence in front of her. Initially emitting a bright, golden light, it rapidly faded to what looked like a sizable piece of tree bark. Carved into it was the symbol for "illusion", with six hash marks cut around the edges. As Jularra took it, the Gift God blended into the corridor’s shadows and disappeared.
She stood in silence, as she usually did after a visit from the Gift Gods, simultaneously puzzled and relieved, as if she had escaped a great danger. As usual, Jularra found the one-way dialogue curious; she wished to learn more about the nature of her world’s magic, and the Gift Gods’ role in it. But once again, they visited, spoke, and left.
Maybe next time.
Jularra stowed her new Credellion in a pouch and continued on her way to the surface.
The volume of noise coming from the courtyard above increased as Jularra drew near. Flagons clinked, laughter rippled across the tops of the clumped crowds, and various melodies were slaughtered by tone-deaf or inebriated revelers. It was exactly what Jularra needed. Her smile grew steadily until she crested the threshold up to Brinnock’s massive peristyle in the center of the city.
Her steps slowed as her head rose above the floor of the courtyard and an impressive sight flooded her vision: hundreds of yards of round courtyard, encircled by towering columns a hundred feet in height. Jularra felt her chest swell with pride knowing she and her people had conquered such a place.
As her people erupted in assorted exclamations of triumph and pride, Jularra slapped the nearest bystander on the back and shot her other fist into the air in a sign of shared and unified triumph. Most of her fellow Spire, as well as the Bedrock nearby, came to the appropriate attention formation for their unit, but allowed a reciprocal fist to shoot into the air as well.
Someone pulled Jularra’s raised arm down and slapped a mug into her hand. After recognizing Untannio, a familiar member of the Bedrock, Jularra raised the mug to her mouth and gulped until it was empty. She slammed her mug down and pointed at it. The initial cheers and whistles that greeted her arrival to the courtyard hadn’t yet died down, and only swelled again as she demanded her refill. Untannio, who appeared to be the barkeep for the time being, swiped the mug off the counter and flicked the tap on the keg behind him to fill it up. Within seconds, Jularra had her mug back, and once again emptied it.
After another refill, she turned to the crowd with her mug in the air and beckoned for their attention. After some conflicting yelling and shushing, the crowd fell silent.
“What a beautiful night in the Acorilinian city of Brinnock!” she shouted. Her fellow Spire officers, the Bedrock officers, the members of her court and staff that were in attendance, as well as the servants, detonated in a proud and triumphant roar of approval. Jularra sipped from her mug as the crowd’s noise rippled around and up into the night sky.
“Before this night progresses,” she started, striking a more subdued tone, “let me say that I am extremely grateful to those of you who have traveled from Morganon to celebrate with us tonight. I am also extremely appreciative of our country’s relationships, as well as for the wisdom exhibited by our nobles—my advisors—in helping me continue our long history of keeping the peace.”
Most heads in the crowd nodded in agreement. Others let approving sounds hum from their lips.
“Now, obviously, that peace has been disrupted.”
Jularra began circling slowly in place as she continued to exclaim to all those in the vicinity.
“Safety has been risked. Lives have been
