For the Record

Well, it’s finally the big day!

What big day? The day we open the proverbial doors of the Shadowed Plane to humans!

…Or, mortals. They’re not all human. Actually, a lot of them aren’t…

But that’s fine. I don’t really care.

I still couldn’t find Mimir, and nobody wanted to give or sell me a teleporter…

So I just made my own, around a week ago, and then spent until a couple of days ago recovering.

I really need to figure out how to do this without winding up in a coma every time. It’s getting downright obnoxious! Besides, I can’t help but feel like this wasn’t a problem before, and then suddenly it was… What changed?

…Guess I’ll just have to experiment, or ask someone else who knows…

Wait, is that something Grandmother would know? I’ll have to ask next time I see her. I already know Arty has no idea, plus she’s never seen Spellspeech before me…

I can’t help but think maybe I’m doing something wrong, like there’s a trick to it to not have this happen all the time.

Anyway, I made a teleporter here, tied into the usual networks – without their approval, of course, not that it matters. It’s just another destination that shows up on the consoles at other planes’ teleport stations or whatever they’re called.

But first, I made a building around it, complete with a place for a couple of attendants. I definitely didn’t model it after the one at the hive, it’s a completely original design – really!

Okay, not really. But that doesn’t matter either.

Vivianne already handpicked three of my citizens that have administrative Classes to operate it under the usual level of regulation, as well as one of the dungeon subcore maids (Dahlia, I think?) to act as an overseer. That should be plenty to work with at least to start.

Anyway, here they come!

…

Any minute now!

…

…

…

Where the hells are they?

(Did you actually tell anyone you were doing this, or did you just assume that mortals would see a new teleporter entry and immediately come running?) Nyx asks.

Well…

(Yeah, I know,) she says dismissively, (you didn’t tell a damned soul. Maybe go do that? You have a working teleporter now, you can just go wherever you want.)

That’s a good point, so I quickly whip up a broadcast to my retainers.

I’m going to other planes to tell people to come here, if any of you want to come with then meet me at the teleporter station.

And done! Now I just need to wait.

I give them an hour before I stop waiting and head inside. Looks like I’ll be accompanied by Izzy, Arty, Pearl, Omorth, and for some reason Nyx is here too.

“For some reason nothing, as soon as you leave this plane for anywhere but the hive my mana cuts off. You left the portable house open in the castle, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

I’m rewarded with another of her famous sighs.

I get up to the attendant, because I’ve already been repeatedly told even though I’m a goddess I need to follow the correct procedure or whatever…

And I’m met with a decision I didn’t expect.

“Greetings, my queen. Where would you like to go today?”

…

…

“Uhhh…”

“Let’s go to the Sand Sea.”

Hm?

Izzy?

“Sure, that’s fine. We’ll go there then.”

Nyx gives me a weird look while Arty just tilts her head, but that’s fine. I’m sure they have their reasons.

A short wait in line later, and we’re stepping out into a similar station…

…Except that the walls are covered in weird runic tech, rectangles showing moving text or crystals projecting images that… look like actual people or places or things?

“Holographic tech. Get used to it, pal, this plane is the center of runic development.”

I glance at Nyx, but I guess she would know well enough.

“I’d better. I’m from here.”

“Ah.”

…

“So uh. Where do we go from here?” I ask.

Izzy looks over her shoulder at me without stopping. “Where did you want to go? Did you want to post something through the guild about the plane being open for visitation, or to post with the guild about it?”

“That’s a very good question… where are we going right now though?”

“Checkpoint,” she says while pointing at a line ahead of us.

I tilt my head. “For what?”

“To get into the urban center, idiot,” Nyx quips. “They have actual security here, unlike your backwater setup.”

“Hey, I have security too! I have one of the subcores watching over the station, there’s no way something would happen without it telling me.”

“Sure, but that’ll be after something already happens. This is preventative.”

“Hmmm. Okay. I think I see.”

After more time standing in line than I’d expected, we finally reach the front. The attendant holds up the same kind of scanner I saw in the mains district of the hive years ago. At least some things don’t change I guess. They scan through my retainers one by one, pausing on each of use to give a funny look, though each of them just points at me and the attendant nods.

Until they get to me. The scanner beeps, and they furrow their brow at it.

And then nod.

“I see. You’re a divine? What pantheon?” they ask while pulling up a glowing form in the air that seems to appear from nowhere.

“No pantheon. I don’t work well with others, not when they kill my people for fun.”

They raise an eyebrow. “That sounds unfortunate. What’s your business in Greater Drada, and how long do you expect to be here?”

“Hm?”

I feel myself absentmindedly begin to ramp up my aura of malevolence… ever since I’d done it deliberately at the gala it seems I can amplify it at will.

An then I feel a hand on my shoulder. Blinking, I look around to see the attendant sweating and my retainers horrified, especially Izahne.

Except for Artemis. She just locks eyes with me and gives her head a small shake.

“Oh, fine,” I say with a sigh and lower the pressure I’m exerting. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I just want to stop at the guild and post an announcement.”

“What kind of announcement?” the still-shaken mortal says, trying and failing to hide their fear.

“My plane is open for visitation once again. By the way, are all mortals this skittish? I don’t remember it being this bad before.”

Artemis squeezes my shoulder. “Astraea,” she says quietly. “Stronger.”

“Oh.”

And then the mortal suddenly looks pointedly at Izahne.

…

“I see,” they say. “A few days, and that’s a good reason. I’ll approve your visitation, but please keep your wife on a shorter leash.”

Hm?

“You’re an idiot, that’s what,” Nyx says while giving the back of my head a slap. It doesn’t hurt, but I still give her a sharp glare.

Not that it has any effect on her.

Once we’re past the checkpoint and into the bustling streets I ask, “So what was that about? How did you get that cleared up?”

Izzy opens her mouth to answer but Nyx cuts in before her. “You’re the one who gave her the telepathic communication Skill. Figure it out.”

“…Yes, that,” my second first wife says.

“Fine.”

As we continue through the unfamiliar streets, it occurs to me that there’s no sky here.

…

“Why can’t I see the sky?”

Pearl lets out a massive sigh. “Do you literally know nothing at all? Almost everything here is underground!”

“Wait, really?” I reach out with Will Sense and immediately regret it, the entire area around me an entire sea of light. “Ow.”

I don’t stop walking, but I do rub my sore head.

And then I notice Arty’s hand on my wrist, moving down toward my free hand, before interlocking fingers with it.

“It’s true,” Omorth rumbles without breaking his stride.

Sometimes I wonder why he bothers keeping his false body manifested, but I guess the humans would find it more unnerving if a flying talking sword was keeping pace with us instead.

Plus there’s the tactical benefit of any possible enemies mistaking him for nothing but a weapon in a warrior’s hands.

Well, whatever.

After a while we stop at a set of smooth metal doors with a dark panel nearby. Izzy promptly touches it, and a voice from nowhere says, “Where would you like to go today?”

The most unusual part is how I can tell it registers with more than one language, at least to me…

I wonder how they did that.

“Caranik, East side by the workshops,” my wife says casually.

After a pinging sound, the voice answers, “Your destination is confirmed and your transport will arrive shortly. Thank you for using your public transit system!”

“Huh.”

A moment later, the smooth doors slide open horizontally into the wall, revealing a small metal tube with a series of seats along the walls. The others head inside while Izzy pulls me along, pushing me into one of the seats. She then reaches over my shoulders and pulls down some kind of fabric harness before crossing it over my chest and latching it into the wall.

I give her a questioning look as she takes the seat next to me and does the same for herself, while my fox wife takes the seat to my other side.

“Trust me, you’ll regret it if you’re not strapped in. The tubes move in pretty much every direction,” Izzy says. “Don’t bite your tongue.”

“I see.”

And before I’ve gotten the words out, sudden motion presses me violently back in my seat.