[Story] The Epsilon Project - Final Chapter (2013/06/29)

[Tapewolf]

This will hopefully be a new story, set 25 years after 'Future History' (aka Project Future), or 175 years after DMFA.
I'm hoping that it will still make sense for people who have not read the earlier stories or the comic version.

I have perhaps put this off for a little too long because although I currently have four complete chapters, I'm still scared that I won't be able to sustain it creatively.   (EDIT: It reached 62 chapters!)

Anyway, as before I'm going to post the index here and the chapters in subsequent posts.  I will probably be running on a fortnightly update schedule as I did with 'Future History' and 'Chronicles of Jakob Pettersohn'.  How long will I be able to keep it going?  Have I started this too soon?  I guess we shall see.

EDIT: Critique would be very handy.

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6

Chapter 7   Chapter 8   Chapter 9   Chapter 10   Chapter 11   Chapter 12

Chapter 13   Chapter 14   Chapter 15   Chapter 16   Chapter 17   Chapter 18

Chapter 19   Chapter 20   Chapter 21   Chapter 22   Chapter 23   Chapter 24

Chapter 25   Chapter 26   Chapter 27   Chapter 28   Chapter 29   Chapter 30

Chapter 31   Chapter 32   Chapter 33   Chapter 34   Chapter 35   Chapter 36

Chapter 37   Chapter 38   Chapter 39   Chapter 40   Chapter 41   Chapter 42

Chapter 43   Chapter 44   Chapter 45   Chapter 46   Chapter 47   Chapter 48

Chapter 49   Chapter 50   Chapter 51   Chapter 52   Chapter 53   Chapter 54

Chapter 55   Chapter 56   Chapter 57   Chapter 58   Chapter 59   Chapter 60

Chapter 61   Chapter 62

EDIT EDIT:

Brief timeline (dates are approximate):

1089-1985: Chronicles of Jakob Pettersohn
1990: Present-day DMFA
2140: Future History (Project Future)
2165: Epsilon Project

[Tapewolf]

The Epsilon Project - Chapter 1

The fox entered the room cautiously.  "Sorry I'm late..." he said, his ears burning slightly and his mind projecting embarrassment.

"Just take a seat, Sidney," the Professor said, causing the fox to jump slightly as his name was plucked out of thin air.  "We're still settling in.  You haven't missed anything."

Abashed, the fox settled in an empty chair, and cast his eyes around the room at a veritable sea of wings... all the other students in the class were 'Cubi too.  This was not unexpected since Illiath's was a 'Cubi-run school, but it still came as a surprise to Sydney to see so many others of his kind... some things you can't really appreciate until you've seen them yourself.

In principle, it was difficult to identify which of the Creatures in the room was the professor at all, since everyone looked like they were in their early 20s, no matter what their true age was.  In practice, Illiath's provided their staff with enchanted badges bearing the crest of the Academy.  Staff were encouraged to wear formal clothes during the introductory week of term, after which the policy was relaxed.

Of the students in the classroom, some were dressed conservatively, others with a flamboyancy bordering on the outrageous.  The professor, a female snow leopard with batlike wings, paid the outlandish sartorial mismatch not the slightest attention and cleared the whiteboard with a wave of one hand.

Sitting slightly apart from the other students in the row in front of Syd, was a jackal with plain white fur, raven-black hair and striking red-orange wings of the feathered kind.  This what was initially caught Sydney's eye, but once he had laid eyes on the Creature he became fixated with trying to work out if he was seeing an incubus or a succubus.
At length he finally took the jackal for a male, but only after great difficulty.  The Creature's clothing only added to the confusion; around the neck was a black collar but otherwise he leaned towards the scanty end of the clothing spectrum.  The only other garments he wore were a pair of arm-length gloves made from some kind of high-gloss polymer and a remarkably tight pair of leather pants which made Sydney wince just to look at them.

Looking the other way he saw that he was sitting next to a succubus, a feather-winged border collie whose prim and proper attitude perfectly matched the grey jacket she wore.  The fox's eyes widened slightly when he realised that she was wearing something underneath it that he had last seen on a top shelf magazine.  Great grandmother does that too, he remembered.

Sydney looked down at himself, feeling somehow inadequate given that he could easily have dressed as outlandishly as the jackal guy.  On a sudden impulse he removed his shirt, revealing the Doberman-like patterning of his muscular chest and arms.

"Now," the professor said, snapping Sydney and some of the other more dreamy 'Cubi back to full attention.  "As most of you will be aware, we will only be running the introductory classes for the first two weeks.  Regular courses will begin after that.
"This is the first introductory class, and we may as well start off with a brainstorming session, since I'd like to get some idea of what you all know about the major races.
"Naturally, our race will be the main focus of our courses, but for reasons which will hopefully become apparent, I would like to start with Beings," she said and wrote the word in the centre of the whiteboard, surrounding it with a circle.
This done, the professor turned her gaze towards and class and paused expectantly.  Most of the students put up a hand and in some cases a wing-tentacle as well.

"Sheila," Professor Jevex called out.  Sydney jumped slightly - it was the succubus sat next to him.
"They are the most common race on Furrae," she informed the professor.  She thanked her and wrote it upon the whiteboard.

"They have very limited magic," another student informed her.  "They compensate with technology."

"Daniel," the professor said, and a Doberman incubus replied.  "We, 'Cubi, are like Beings until we grow up.  We often masquerade as them."
"Very good," the professor replied, and turned towards the white jackal.   "Richard?"

"They are a resource for our race to use," he declared.  There was a deafening silence, punctuated only by a confused blur of emotions from everyone in the room.  Richard's smile faded slightly and he gave a quick glance at the other students as if seeking reassurance.

"Er, would you care to expand on that?" the professor asked him, her head-wings fluffing out fractionally as she tried to control them.

"Well, Professor," the jackal began and recovering his poise, leaned back and placed a black boot upon the table.  "Their souls can be eaten and make a very good source of energy, especially since they are an easy kill.  While they're alive they're good for harvesting terror, pain and other emotions from, and when they're used up their skins make very durable leather," he said and slapped one of his thighs for emphasis.  A thick wave of horror and disgust seeped through the room and those nearest to Richard edged away from him.

"You bastard!" Syd snarled, standing up.  "My mother is a Being!"  Richard whirled around, almost coming off the chair and stared at Sydney, his head-wings fanning out in alarm and a gloved hand in front of his mouth.
"Oh, I'm really sorry," he said apologetically.  "I didn't know.  I wouldn't worry about it though," he added brightly, "She won't last long.  Probably die while you're at the school..."

Sydney lurched forwards, stumbling over the desk, his mind filled with red rage.  Richard seemed genuinely startled by his reaction.  One of the professor's wing-tentacles wrapped around Syd's throat and an icy sensation filled his head.

Next thing he knew, Sydney was lying slumped in his seat, staring at the ceiling and not quite sure what had happened.  Richard was nowhere to be seen and most of the class were quietly chattering amongst themselves, sometimes casting surreptitious glances towards him.

"Where's the professor?" he asked timidly.  "Outside, with Richard," Sheila replied.

"Oh shit..." Sydney exclaimed.  "Did I... did I hurt him?"  How would his parents react if he was expelled on his first day...?

"I wouldn't worry," the succubus said, gesturing at a couple of other dazed 'Cubi who were only now stirring.  "You weren't the only one who needed to be subdued, and besides, they'd have taken you aside if you were in trouble.  As a race we're... well, highly strung.  This sort of thing tends to happen a lot to begin with, at least until the self-control classes start to kick in.  I'm sure they're used to it."

"How do you know all this?" Syd asked her.  "I read a lot," she said said, with a small shrug, but her gaze lingered over the fox for some time.
"May I ask," she said finally, "When you found out you were 'Cubi?  Was it recently, or have you known it for many years?"

"It's a long and sordid story," Sydney said, "But the short of it is yeah, it was fairly recent.  Though I often wondered what race I was, I will say that."

* * *

The envelope was glowing slightly.  Not in an alarming way, nor yet in an irritating manner.  It had often been the case that junk mail would be covered in cheap, tacky spells that caused them to flash or display short loops of video, but that trend was on the wane now, a passing fad.

Most people had by now developed a habit of consigning such garish mail to the shredder without checking it and this association with junk mail was probably a major reason why, but this particular letter was quite clearly something else.  It had the air of an official letter from a Creature-run organisation, likely formed before even Mayor Dickens' great grandparents had been born.  And now it was sitting in his in-tray, addressed to him.

Cautiously, the llama opened it.  Care was needed - sometimes Creatures would send a Warp-aci, some similar messenger or even themselves, shape-shifted into the form of the letter.  Casually stabbing such an envoy with a letter-knife had sparked more than one diplomatic incident.  In this case the letter had obviously not been through the usual postal system, and that itself was a very bad sign.

"What do you know about this...?" he asked his aide, eyes widening as he scanned the letter.  It was hand-written in quill with a fine script and the paper was embossed with a large runic Clan symbol in one corner and coloured with pressed gold leaf.  As was often the case with long-lived Creatures, the text was lengthy and took its sweet time getting to the point.

"It's... well, I think it's a request, Sir," the aide replied.  He was a fruit bat, and he sat in his chair, staring into space.  "It was hand-delivered to me this morning by an emissary of Daryil's Clan.  Apparently they wish to expand their territorial holdings."

The llama slumped.  "Well, that's it, then, Patrick.  I had long feared this would happen, that Creatures would take it from us, under a thinly-veiled threat of force dressed up as diplomacy... Force us to hand to them this city which we built from practically nothing..."

"Oh no, Sir.  The emissary was very clear on this matter.  The Lord Daryil... he personally ordered this.  He wishes to be made supreme overlord of Grunmore Council Estate, no more, no less."

The Mayor went very quiet.  "This must be some 'Cubi trick.  No-one would want Grunmore.  He means to gradually expand his territory and take over the city by stealth."

"Be that as it may, I'm not sure we could refuse this demand.  Parbury is on land owned by King Fairwater, but even so the city itself does not officially enjoy the protection of a patron.  Angering this clan could be a mistake - they may take it by force or raze it to the ground so that no-one may have it at all.  We could not win such a war."

The Mayor sat silently, trying to think of some way out of the dilemma.

"Frankly, Sir, I say we let them," the bat piped up.  "If the Lord Daryil really wants it, Grunmore will become his problem.  Our statistics and costs will show an enormous improvement once that has been cut out of the picture."

"We'll have to send it past legal first, of course, but in principle, yes.  This may come to be a blessing in disguise."

"Do you think he knows?" Patrick mused.  "If he doesn't, should we tell him?"

"Yes," the llama decided firmly.  "Even if it jeopardises the transaction.  He must have the right to refuse if it is not to his liking."

"But, Sir!  If he signs it, it is legally binding..."

"No.  We must not hold anything back.  It's no longer a question of business ethics or legal procedure, it's a matter of our own safety.  He knows where we live.  The fact of the matter is this... if he feels he's been robbed, the esteemed Lord Daryil is very likely to come here and kill us both."

[VAE]

Interesting so far...
It appears Richard rolled a 1 on Diplomacy... that is, unless he had an anger affinity and decided it's time for a snack.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Lord Daryil, Supreme Overlord of Grunmore Council Estate.

It has a ring to it.

Although... I do have to wonder how many other Council Estates he's Supreme Overlord of, by now. And... just how much emotion would there be in such a packed, unpleasant place to live? Hrm. Ulterior motives...

[Tapewolf]

It appears Richard rolled a 1 on Diplomacy... that is, unless he had an anger affinity and decided it's time for a snack.

The original concept for Richard was that he was like Dan would be if Destania had brought him up during her tenure at SAIA.  It was inspired by Mink saying "I was originally kind of scared since I heard you were Destania's son..."
He's developed a bit since then, but he's a character I am really having fun writing.  Sheila too, actually.

[justacritic]

Poor little mayor and staff, killing you would be the least painful thing that Lord Daryil would do to you
Here's to more of your story

[Tapewolf]

I was going to publish this yesterday and switch the update day to Saturday, but I (1) forgot, (2) had to do a little re-editing for consistency with the current WIP chapter.  Enjoy.


Chapter 2

After the initial briefing class, the students had the rest of the day free and were encouraged to explore the grounds of the academy.  Not quite sure what to do, Syd tagged along after Sheila, who didn't seem to object.

"Nice corset," he remarked at one point.  "Thanks," she replied, polishing the shiny undergarment.  "But don't get your hopes too high, mister," the succubus added with a lascivious grin.  "I prefer other women."
Syd decided it was best to pretend he hadn't heard that, at least for now, and his expression did not change.

"So, uh, what clan are you from?" he finally asked.

"Clan Ketonia," the Border collie said.  "Fairly minor clan, but we specialise in financial matters."

"Have you ever had a Leader?"

"Not as such... we have a CEO instead."

This was not the answer Syd was expecting.

"Yeah," she said, "We run the clan as if it was a corporation.  My father is Technical Director, and I think his hopes are to have me set up and run a new R&D facility in one of our cities.  After I graduate from Illiath's, of course."

"I don't know if I should mention mine," Sydney said.  "We have a shadowy past."

"That goes for a great many clans," Sheila pointed out.  "Still, you seem to have a good heart.  I don't think I can hate you for yourself, whatever your family may have been like.  But if that's how you want to cope with it, I can't argue."

"We're allies of Daryil clan," Sydney said.  Sheila paused but made no other sign.  "Weird, but pretty harmless," she said, as if reading aloud.  "Usually gay," she added, causing Syd to scowl briefly.  "Anyway you seem sane enough to me."

"Thanks, I guess.  What about... Well, do you know anything about Richard...?  His clan?"

"No," she said, her eyes narrowing.  "He's a funny one.  Not many clans revel in destruction these days, most of the really brutal ones got killed off in the wars.  If I were to stake a guess, I'd say Jyraneth."

Syd quivered and radiated fear.  "Jyraneth...?"

The Border frowned, reasoning that the Jyraneth had some kind of beef with Syd's mysterious clan, not an unlikely thing given that Jyraneth's clan were a bunch of religious fanatics who held practically every other clan in contempt and had made many enemies.  Sheila's guess was in fact true, but not in quite the manner she suspected.

"I wouldn't worry," she soothed,  "He won't hurt you.  Jyraneth are psychos, and they committed many atrocities, even against Ketonia clan.  But they tend to honour their vows.  Of the surviving members of the clan, they must be at the moderate end of the spectrum even to consider using a school.  Be that as it may, if Richard is here at all, that means he's sworn to set aside his inter-clan differences for the duration of his attendance.  He might push the boundaries if your clans are really at each others' throats, but targetting another 'Cubi for a vendetta is very unlikely."

"I guess so.  Uh.. what did the Jyraneth do to your clan?"

"Oh, they massacred a number of villages and towns that were supplying us with raw materials such as wool and ore.  They also killed several members of our clan who tried to prevent it."

"Shit," Sydney said.  "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Hey, it was a long time ago," she said.  "Way before my parents were born.  Beside, I might be completely wrong about Richard being of that ilk.  Most of the Jyraneth were wiped out about 700 years ago after they pushed the Kamei'Sin too hard by murdering their Leader's lover.  It's just as likely he's Cyra Clan.  I mean... I've read about them, seen recordings from SAIA.  If Destania Cyra ever brought up a child in her own image, Richard would be pretty much it."

"I heard Destania was dead", Syd pointed out.  "But I guess with someone like her, you can never be too sure."

* * *

"Thank you," the incubus said, entering the room.  Vulpine he was, and dressed in a long black cloak with holes for his feathery wings and the Daryil symbol upon it.
A cane was held fast by two gloves of brown leather and his demeanour, at least as much as his clothing, gave the impression of an ageless nobleman who could personally recall those bygone times when such clothes were fashionable among the gentry and not just a mark of distinction for formal occasions.  The headwings alone practically guaranteed it, for younger 'Cubi rarely left their studies until they were at least one or two hundred years old.  Daryil was more than four thousand.
The effect was finished by a dark burgundy shirt of fine silk with gold trim that was tucked carefully into an expensive pair of leather trousers.  These in turn branched off into an equally costly pair of knee-length boots.

"I bid you welcome, milord," Mayor Dickens said, bowing courteously.

The incubus made a polite gesture of acceptance towards the llama with one hand, and held the door open with the other.  An unkempt husky Being bumbled in, dressed in a T-shirt and a particularly scruffy pair of jeans.  Tucked carefully under one arm was what appeared to be a gigantic sugar cube.

"Afternoon," he said.  Everyone else flinched slightly and the incubus narrowed his eyes in a threatening manner, as if to say 'behave'.

"Milord," the mayor began, addressing the noble.  "It is an honour to have you with us.  Can I bring refreshments for you, and your... assistant?"

"A jug of water, and perhaps some pastries, if you would be so kind," he replied.  Patrick scurried off and returned a few moments later bearing a tray.

The incubus drew from one pocket a leather-bound folio, adorned on the front by the mark of Daryil Clan.  The gold clasps and jewels had clearly been worked by hand.  "May we present you with a gift on behalf of clan Daryil?" he asked.  The Royal 'we', the Mayor thought.
"It is our hope that it may bring you a better understanding of our aims and way of life."

Mayor Dickens opened it gently, and drew breath.  "Hand-written?"  Privately he made a rough estimate of the book's value and his hands began to tremble.

"Copied out and illustrated by monks from the order of St. Palance," the lordly incubus said.  "I understand they even raised the cattle whose hides went into the vellum and binding."

"This wasn't hand-made," the scruffy one said, pointing at the sugar cube.  "Sorry about that."  There was an uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by another sharp look from the incubus.

"We do also have the document available in Braille, audiobook, comic form and scratch-and-sniff," the fox said happily, regaining his composure.  "But this one is much nicer, don't you think?"  The incubus faltered slightly, as the husky glared at him instead.

"Yes, yes," he said, glancing at the unkempt one.  "Apologies.  I suppose we should get down to business now."  The Mayor shuddered slightly.  "No, wait, the other gift first."  So saying, he waved a hand and a bottle appeared in it.  "Marque D' Sade, 1808," he said.  "Save it for a special occasion if you wish."

"Anyway, to business.  On behalf of Clan Daryil, I am here to extend our love and appreciation towards the people of Parbury and their delicious souls..." the incubus faltered, looking confused.  The scruffy husky gave him a look of pure venom and he tried to regain his thread.  The Mayor was shivering.

The incubus started again.  "We wish to formally take over Parbury..."

"GRUNMORE!" the husky screamed.  The Mayor pinned himself against the wall.  "It's exactly as I feared!"

"Why are you acting like this?  You'll ruin everything!" the husky snarled in a low voice.
"It's him!" the incubus whined, gesturing at the mayor plaintively.  The scruffy one glanced at at the mayor and then back at the fox.  "Emotion-jammed by a Being?  Anyone would think you were 22!"

"Mayor Dickens," the noble said, his gloved hands clutching the top of the cane like grim death.  "Will you please stop thinking all that paranoid stuff?!  I don't know what you're using to break my mental filters, but it's making it really hard to concentrate!
"Listen... think about the smell of the sea and the wind whipping your hair... That's better.  Now, can you feel that...?  Good.  Now concentrate on it, and... yes, that's so much quieter."

"Right," the incubus continued, once he had taught the llama and bat to conceal their thoughts. "I really don't know why you're so worried.  If Clan Daryil truly wished to take the city by force, we wouldn't be talking to you now.  You'd have been incinerated and replaced by impostors from our Clan before you even knew what was going on."

"Now, if we can forget this moment of foolishness ever happened, let's try that again.  On behalf of Clan Daryil I wish to extend our love and appreciation towards the people of Parbury and I hope this agreement marks the start of a new era of cooperation between your city-state and our Clan.
"We wish to formally take over the district of Grunmore, nothing more or less.  We will protect Grunmore from attack as best we can and will try to protect Parbury also, though we cannot promise anything.
"While some of our people will be moving in once the agreement has been formalised, It is not our intention to harm any of the existing residents other than as may become necessary in the event of civil unrest."

"And how likely is that, milord?" the bat enquired.

"Frankly, I'm not sure," the incubus admitted.  "We're not an aggressive or violent clan by nature - Daryil members are forbidden to commit wanton acts of murder - and the 'Cubi race as a whole... well, we don't like killing, if only because dead people can't have emotions.
"Now, we're not talking about subjugating the population either, that's really not what we want.  But as you both know, Grunmore is a hive of villainy and scum so we can't presume a completely passive approach will work in all scenarios and there may be some resistance to us just because we're new here.
"Understand though, we're talking an emergency situation that I don't expect to occur, but want to provide for just in case it does.  Covering our backs, really."  The mayor and his winged assistant nodded.

"Now, I believe that's..."

"Trade routes," the Incubus' assistant piped up, interrupting him.

"What about them?" the noble retorted, turning on his heel with a questioning stare that perfectly matched his noble demeanour.  The husky cleared his throat.  "I took the liberty of examining the area and its financial status.  While Grunmore is not exactly a commercial district, there are twenty-six corner shops, two or three supermarkets and a number of fuelling stations within its boundaries.  These will of course, need to be resupplied.
"Since the estate has no financial centre of its own but a large area of farmland and several industrial estates, virtually all monetary transactions will cross the border also."

"I see," the incubus said, rubbing his chin.  "Yes.  Making it a separate state would give us the power to impose levies on trade occurring with the rest of Parbury.  That is something we must consider..."

"Taxes?!  Import duties...?" the Mayor seemed to be sinking rapidly into his chair.

"The taxes would be fair," the fox said, soothingly.  "I am sure our esteemed colleague is thinking of nothing more than a nominal fee to help cover administrative costs.  Besides, these are details we can work out properly later."

"That's not the point!" Mayor Dickens protested.  "Parbury is a province granted to us by King Fairwater!  Ultimately we report to him... being made governor of Grunmore is one thing, but you can't just go and declare it an independent state!"

"We'll see about that," said the husky simply.

[joshofspam]

Wow...

Daryil setting up his own little town. Should be interesting watching him make a town of villainy into a nice place to raise your kids.

[VAE]

A nice place to *raise* your kids, given that the gravity might very well work in the opposite direction.

[Tapewolf]

FWIW, I have no idea what happens to Destania, I'm covering my bases

[James StarRunner]

Interesting... another SAIA-like school. I didn't know you had this is the works. We shall have to converse.

[Tapewolf]

Interesting... another SAIA-like school. I didn't know you had this is the works. We shall have to converse.

That would be handy.  The people I'd usually run ideas past all seem to be busy at the moment :-/

[James StarRunner]

"Why are you acting like this?  You'll ruin everything!" the assistant snarled in a low voice.

You should either say it was the mayor's assistant, or call him by name or species. As there are two 'assistants' in the room, it's a little vague as to who's speaking.

---

"Anyway, to business.  On behalf of Clan Daryil, I am here to extend our love and appreciation towards the people of Parbury and their delicious souls..." the incubus faltered, looking confused.  The scruffy husky gave him a look of pure venom and he tried to regain his thread.  The Mayor was shivering.

"We wish to formally take over Parbury..."

Seems a little out of character for Jakob to mention delicious souls and for Daryil to be the one to put Jakob back on track, which is amusing. And who was it that tried to regain his thread? The husky?

By creating a different paragraph, my mind thinks there's a different speaker. I suggest something like, "We wish to formally take over Parbury..." the vulpine incubus continued, looking sheepishly back at the mayor.

---

"Why are you acting like this?  You'll ruin everything!" the assistant snarled in a low voice.
"It's him!" the incubus whined, gesturing at the mayor plaintively.  The scruffy one glanced at at the mayor and then back at the fox.  "Emotion-jammed by a Being?  Anyone would think you were 22!"

This is all really unclear to me. Multiple speakers in a single paragraph and I'm not 100% sure who the speakers are.

---

"Now, I believe that's..."

"Trade routes," the assistant piped up, interrupting him.

Who's saying the first line? And which 'assistant' is saying trade routes? I can take a good educated guess studying the context, but otherwise is unclear.

---

I like what you got so far though and I'll be looking into future chapters!

---

[Tapewolf]

Seems a little out of character for Jakob to mention delicious souls and for Daryil to be the one to put Jakob back on track, which is amusing.

Or is it?

I've fixed some of the problems.  Some of them I'm not sure I can easily fix without introducing worse problems.

[James StarRunner]

Well, I'm not going to debate your character, but he did seem quite traumatized years after he last consumed real souls. Or at least really hated himself for it.

[VAE]

Well, I'm not going to debate your character, but he did seem quite traumatized years after he last consumed real souls. Or at least really hated himself for it.

There's a difference between actually going to do it, and pranking someone into thinking so by scaring the hell out of him.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Seems a little out of character for Jakob to mention delicious souls and for Daryil to be the one to put Jakob back on track, which is amusing.

Or is it?

It's still unclear as to which is which. I know which the _Mayor_ is supposed to think is which. I'm not sure yet which one the _reader_ is supposed to think is which.

Which may or may not be the point, at this stage. ;-]

[Tapewolf]

Chapter 3

"Welcome back," Professor Jevex began.  "We covered Beings last time.  In this morning's session, we will be repeating the brainstorming exercise, but the subject will instead be us - the 'Cubi race.  Incubi and Succubi."  She drew out a new circle and turned to face the class.

One of the younger students, an osprey griffin named Mike, raised a taloned hand.  "They can eat emotions and don't need to sleep," he said.  "We," the professor corrected, gently.  Mike looked at the floor and radiated embarrassment.

"Daniel?"

"We have head-wings," a Doberman pinscher replied.  "No other race does."

"We can shapeshift," Sydney contributed.

As the minutes went by, various other attributes of the 'Cubi race were added to the diagram, such as thought and emotion reading powers, wing-tentacles, the drawback of emotional instability and the fact that it was possible to ascend, achieving a third set of wings, indefinite lifespan and a spectacular level of power.  "Though tri-winged 'Cubi are different enough to a normal 'Cubi that they could almost be classified as a different race," Professor Jevex pointed out.

"Clan symbol," Sheila said, simply.  Some of the younger students radiated puzzlement at this, so she tried again.  "Most adult 'Cubi have a mark somewhere on their body, the symbol of the clan we were born into.  It's the one thing we can't hide by shapeshifting."

"Very good," the Professor said, "Richard?"

"We're top of the food chain," the jackal said and as before, his remark was met with a cold silence.  "But we are!" he protested.  "Top level predators, the Master Race.  All others are prey for us, alive or dead..."

"Is he serious...?" the osprey piped up.

Professor Jevex gestured for silence and sat upon the table.  "It is not my place to criticise Richard's parents or the beliefs of his Clan," she began, "But it seems clear to me that his upbringing has been vastly different to most of the rest of us.  In times gone by this would have been closer to the norm, but even before the Dragon Wars our race has often had to keep a low profile to avoid persecution.  Richard's attitude, I'm afraid to say, is very likely to get him killed unless he is able to keep it under control."

"But Professor," Richard objected, "The Dragons and Fae have both departed from this realm, so that leaves us as the Master Race to inherit Furrae in their wake.  Why shouldn't we take advantage of our superiority?  Who can stop us?"

The professor sighed, and shifted into a more comfortable position.

"It is true that in a fair fight, a Tri-winged Clan Leader could mop the floor with even a very powerful Demon," she said, "But life is rarely fair and a Tri-wing can be killed, even by an ordinary Being if the right situation arises.  There have been only a few hundred Leaders in the entire history of our race, and nearly all of them have perished.
"In any case, you are not a Leader," she pointed out, and then paused.  "...unless you are an Aspect of Dimanika, come to troll my class...?" she asked hopefully.  Richard shook his head.
"Daryil, then...?"  A look of distaste crossed Richard's features.  "No," he replied stiffly, "I'm not."

"Well then, if you are just a normal dual-winged 'Cubi like the rest of us, it is essential you know just how vulnerable you are.  If provoked, even a juvenile Demon or a Being adventurer can slay you with a single lucky stroke for all your powers and trickery.  Your first and best defence is to be a model citizen and give them no excuse to attack you in the first place.

"Back when SAIA was founded, we had to keep hidden or risk immediate execution, simply for possessing a clan mark or head-wings.  Until quite recently, SAIA was the only 'Cubi school and it was made dimensionally separate from Furrae to prevent the Dragons or adventurers from storming it and making us all extinct.
"It is only within the last two centuries that Beings have become tolerant enough for us to live more openly among them, but we do so on their terms and so we have to behave ourselves.

"The excesses of our past and the black propaganda of our enemies have left us with a very nasty reputation.  Let's be clear about this - stealing your neighbour's soul and turning his hide into trousers is not considered acceptable behaviour, no matter how sexy they look on you.  Random acts of murder will get you killed, or worse, it may get other members of our race who happen to be in the area killed as well or instead - and if someone else is executed for your crimes it is likely to spark a war between clans, a war which our race can ill-afford."

Richard was taken aback.  "But we have all these powers!" he complained.  "Why were they given to us if not so we can use them how we want?"

"There is a time and a place for everything," the professor said placatingly.  "The purpose of this institution is to teach you - not just how to make the most of those powers, but when it is safe and sensible to do so.  And most importantly of all, we will help teach you the self-restraint that you will need to avoid killing or maiming your friends in a moment of anger or earning yourself an early grave.

"At the end of the day, how you use your powers is your own business.  This school can teach you techniques for fighting, for self-defence, methods of healing and methods of causing pain and torment in others.
"We teach seduction and we teach public relations.  We teach adventuring and mechanics.  We can also teach you how to manipulate souls."

"A question, please, Professor," Richard said.  "Does that include eating them?"

There was a sharp intake of breath from some students and a flux of emotions washed throughout the room.  Some - such as Richard - looked positively eager at this prospect, others were horrified and the remainder watched with interest to see what would happen.  Professor Jevex emitted a sharp spike of annoyance and seemed to be on the point of hitting Richard for a second or two.

"Yes and no," she said after regaining her composure.  "We will teach you how to trap souls and how to consume their energy, but it is not intended that any of you use these techniques upon live specimens and we will mention that only in passing for completeness.  The main purpose is to teach you how to consume synthetic energy, and how to use it for various other purposes."

Richard made a face and radiated facetiousness.  "Freakin' typical... a free sample to get students hooked on Jayhawk's product.  Why?  Why'd anyone want to pay for a cheap imitation when you can steal an actual soul for free?"

"Because doing that will get you killed," the professor snapped, and then continued in a more mellow vein.  "While Jayhawk do have an interest in this and some of their researchers will be doing guest lectures, that is beside the point.  More advanced students will be taught how it is actually synthesized."

"For what it's worth, soul-eating was and is far rarer than most Beings would have you believe... it is, I think you will find, largely a myth put about by the Dragons to aid in our extermination.  Angels are far, far more prone to such acts of violation, and some say this is why they have been dying out.  On that note I should probably add that consuming a real soul - aside from being abhorrent to most 'Cubi - will damage your own soul in ways that Jayhawk energy doesn't, but that is neither here nor there.

"To answer your question, our school will teach you how to heal souls of the living, and how to trap them for humanitarian purposes if the body dies.  You will also be taught how to consume synthetic energy in order to extend your lives and powers.  While it is possible to adapt these techniques to consume a living victim, that will be left for you to figure out on your own if you truly wish to become a monster after your graduation and taint the souls of any descendants you may have.

"But it is vitally important that you understand this:  We are all at the mercy of the other races and we, the school, must ask that you remember this and think very, very carefully how your actions will look to others.  For the sake of your fellow 'Cubi, if not for you."

Reluctantly, Richard nodded.

* * *

"You... you plan to secede it from Fairwater's kingdom...?" the mayor looked horrified.  "But won't this... he will... we do not want Parbury to get dragged into a war!"

"That should not be a problem," the incubus said.  "You see, we have already reached an agreement with the King.  I know him of old.  In fact, Daryil Clan helped him take the throne.  We would not even have considered this project without first obtaining his consent."

"In that case... I believe all is in order, Milord," the llama stated.  "All that it requires now is an exchange of signatures."  Carefully, he and the bat read through the document and when sure it was the same as the draft they had been given, signed it.

The incubus took it, read it through once and then handed it over to his aide.

Mayor Dickens started.  "Milord, it must be signed by your own hand.  It will not be binding if signed only on your behalf."

"That..." the incubus said, and looked a little embarrassed.  "Trust me, it is better this way."

As the llama and bat looked on, the scruffy dog signed it, looked at it and then pressed a thumb against the page.  There was a faint hissing sound and a small amount of smoke.  When his digit came away, there was a perfect monogram on the page - the mark of Daryil's Clan.  His chest was faintly glowing in the same shape, visible for a few seconds through the T-shirt.

The bat stared at him with a look of incredulity - the llama's face was a textbook illustration of slack-jawed idiocy.

"Ah well," Daryil said.  His husky face became vulpine and the scruffy T-shirt exploded as his back-wings appeared, scattering fragments around the room.  Fortunately he remembered the jeans, which morphed slightly to accommodate his hip-wings.  "I guess the game's up," he said.  "I was wondering how long it would take you to realise."

"You?!?"

"Yes," Jakob said, and reverted to his wolfish base form.  "He is the Lord Daryil.  I apologise if you feel you have been mislead, that was not strictly our intention, but sometimes there have been assassination attempts.  Against both of us, in fact.
"For your information, I am actually a lord and I do frequently act as our clan's official representative.  But at the end of the day, Daryil is the clan's Leader, not me.
"By the way, I also apologise for my Lord's appearance and attire, though it could have been worse.  He intended to conduct this meeting in a skin-tight catsuit and would have done so if I hadn't stopped him."

"I'll wear it afterwards," Daryil said.

"Must you, Milord?"  Jakob looked pained.   "It's not very becoming for someone of your status.  It will make a very odd first impression."

It's shiny," Daryil said, as if that explained everything.

"It's none of my business, Milords," the Mayor said hesitantly, "But is this some engagement you have planned for this afternoon?"

"Sort of," Jakob said, and looked slightly uncomfortable.

"We can provide transport as a token of our esteem if it would help.  We would not wish you to be late."

"That's okay, we'll walk," Daryil told him.  "It's just an informal thing, and what better way to check out our shiny new city-state?  Well, town-district-state."

The Mayor gulped and Patrick took a few steps backwards.

"It's a simple informal dinner to celebrate," Jakob soothed.  "It doesn't have to be anything fancy."

"I don't know of any suitable restaurants in the area," the bat said uncertainly.  "Certainly none befitting a clan leader..."

"It's befitting that we should sample the local produce," Daryil countered, "So we're going down the chippy.  Fish and chips for the entire clan!  Except for Werrew, he doesn't like fish.  And Falkirk is a vegetarian."

"Please, Dar," Jakob said, "Fish and chips is a wonderful idea, but please, please... just don't do what you did last time..."

[justacritic]

Daryil makes no promises Jakob, Daryil makes no promises. I can't wait to see what zany antics are in store for you.

[joshofspam]

Good old Fish N Chips.

One could only imagine how that could end up with how Daryil feels about fish.

[Tapewolf]

Good old Fish N Chips.

One could only imagine how that could end up with how Daryil feels about fish.

It's mostly live fish he has a problem with.

[VAE]

Good old Fish N Chips.

One could only imagine how that could end up with how Daryil feels about fish.

It's mostly live fish he has a problem with.

Reminds me of that old quote - "I'm not a vegetarian because I love animals but because I hate plants."

[justacritic]

Good old Fish N Chips.

One could only imagine how that could end up with how Daryil feels about fish.

It's mostly live fish he has a problem with.

Reminds me of that old quote - "I'm not a vegetarian because I love animals but because I hate plants."

Hey don't diss the flavor of the Plant Kingdom.

[Gabi]

Now I wonder what it is that he did last time. >.>

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Heh. The jig is up!

... and I do wonder about the vegetarian. Most chippies use animal-based fats in their fryers, rather than vegetable-based ones; the meat flavouring is more popular, or so I understand. Less common are the ones that use olive oil, for example.

A secondary consideration is that vegetable oils "wear out" faster, requiring more maintenance and replacement...

but I digress a little, I think.

[Gabi]

Really? Here people use mostly sunflower and/or corn oil for frying. I use sunflower oil myself. However, most restaurants and fast food chains re-use the same oil multiple times, which is unhealthy and ruins the taste of the food. But lots of people will eat it anyway.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

This is specifically in the case of deep-frying, rather than pan-frying, I should clarify.

I may also be misremembering certain details (like which vegetable is used, for example)...

[Gabi]

Deep-frying or pan-frying you can use the same oils. Deep-frying is better, but if you use the same oil again and again it becomes saturated and thus the problem I mentioned (unhealthy and bad-tasting, but people will still eat the stuff).

[VAE]

Deep-frying or pan-frying you can use the same oils. Deep-frying is better, but if you use the same oil again and again it becomes saturated and thus the problem I mentioned (unhealthy and bad-tasting, but people will still eat the stuff).

Saturated? That seems odd.  I mean, where is it getting hydrogen from?
I thought it was more splitting into shorter hydrocarbon chunks? *shrug*

[justacritic]

Really? Here people use mostly sunflower and/or corn oil for frying. I use sunflower oil myself. However, most restaurants and fast food chains re-use the same oil multiple times, which is unhealthy and ruins the taste of the food. But lots of people will eat it anyway.

Have you ever used sesame oil? It's quite aromatic and gives a quite indescribable taste