Vorsmelk's voice cut through the tension, each syllable heavy with the weight of a decision that could reshape the Tribal Federation. "We will treat him as the heir to the throne for now, we will monitor his progress, see if he's actually gonna develop into a truly sentient being and, in time, determine whether he is fit to lead." The council's murmurs—hopeful, skeptical, fearful—swelled and faded like a distant tide. Armin stood frozen, still unsure of what was happening.
Silas gestured sharply, and Armin followed hesitantly. The hallway stretched endlessly, its carved murals of beasts and spiraling vines seeming to shift in the dim glow of luminescent fungi.
They reached an imposing door. Silas pushed it open, revealing a lavish chamber that felt more like a sanctuary than a prison, only now did Armin start to relax. High ceilings arched like the ribcage of some ancient beast, woven from living branches. A bed of woven vines sat in one corner, flanked by a desk of polished heartwood and bathroom with a basin fed by a plant that dripped water like slow tears. A balcony jutted outward, its railing a tangle of flowering creepers. Armin stepped onto it, the air of Vudras' forest washing over him. Below, the city sprawled—a labyrinth of grown structures, their bark walls and vine bridges blending into the canopy's embrace. He was in a palace-like structure that had been built into one of the giant trees that hid the city beneath under their giant branches.
'Is this really it now? Am I truly going to be safe now, just like that?', Armin thought, gripping the railing. 'From prey in a forest to an honored guest in a palace?' The shift felt too sudden, too fragile, like a dream that could shatter with a single misstep.
A soft creak broke his reverie. An older man entered, his short gray beard framing a face weathered by time. He bowed, pointed to his chest, and said, "Veyr." His eyes, sharp and faintly glowing, held a familiarity and goodwill that tugged at Armin's hazy memories.
'The guy who summoned me looked at me like that, I wonder what their connection is. No way of finding out without knowing the language though, but looks like he's going to help me out with that.'
He pointed to himself. "Armin." The rest of the evening dissolved into a clumsy dance of gestures—pointing at objects, mimicking sounds, Veyr's patient nods guiding Armin through the first fractured words of a language he didn't yet know.
The next morning, Armin was woken up to the scent of sap and the soft rustle of leaves. A new attendant stood by the door looking relatively human except for the giant feathered wings on her back. Her eyes were fixed on him with a mix of duty and unease. Breakfast was a plate of strange, vibrant fruits and a simple broth. Armin ate under her watchful gaze, the silence oppressive. "It's really not polite to stare at someone like that, you know?" he muttered, knowing she wouldn't understand. Her expression didn't shift, but her fingers twitched, betraying a flicker of anxiety.
He rose, intending to explore the palace. As he made his way to the door his adventure was cut short by Silas who barred his exit. "Stay," he said, the word clipped and final. Armin's shoulders sagged. 'Looks like I am under house arrest for now'. He retreated to the desk, where some crude paper and a quill made from a sharpened feather had been neatly arranged. 'If I'm stuck here, I'll focus on learning the language as fast as possible as well as how to read and write' he thought, his Earth-born pragmatism kicking in. 'Knowledge is power, even in this backward world.' He glanced back at the attendant, her disciplined posture unwavering, and smirked. 'Time to put this girl to good use.'
He grabbed the quill and paper and trotted over, looked up at her, pointing at the bed. "How do I write 'bed'?" he asked, pronouncing the word as Veyr had taught him, gesturing to the paper. The attendant's eyes narrowed, confused, but after several tries—pointing, repeating, miming—she scrawled a flowing script of interlocking letters. Armin nodded, committing it to memory.
'One word down. Thousands to go.'
A few weeks blurred past, each day a rhythm of attendants rotating through his room, their faces a mix of curiosity and caution. Only Veyr, who appeared each evening, treated him with genuine warmth, his grandfatherly smile a stark contrast to the others' guarded stares. Silas' squad guarded the door in rotation at all times. From the balcony, Armin studied the city far below—a tapestry of non-human races dressed in simple medieval clothing moving through streets. Carts creaked, pulled by horses, oversized lizards and other more magical creatures. Guards patrolled with spears and bows, their movements precise yet archaic. The technological level was very low, untouched by the electricity or machinery Armin would have liked to see. There were some more modern amenities inside though, brought to life through the use of magic, like glowing fungi lamps flickered to life at a touch, and water flowed from plant-based faucets, but he didn't know if these were accessible for normal people. Needless to say, Armin was already missing the luxuries afforded by modern life and vowed to change this backwards world if he ever got out.
Veyr's visits became the highlight of his confinement. Over these weeks he had developed a good relationship with the grandfatherly man. He had started bringing carved tablets daily to teach him about the tribal federation. Their surfaces showed depictions of the Tribal Federation's history—Syn uniting scattered tribes, forging a sanctuary against the Holy Empire's purges and thus founding the federation. Armin learned of the twelve council members, each representing a cluster of tribes, acting as advisors to the two chancellors, Vorsmelk and Elyxyn, who in turn helped the king govern the federation. The throne now stood empty after Syn's demise at the hands of the empire. He had apparently been his late father. The evil Empire, Veyr explained, saw non-humans as abominations, their purges fueled by a belief in human supremacy.
Armin wondered whether they were truly evil and how accurate these history lessons were. Did the Empire consist of genocidal maniacs or did the Federation exaggerate in order to unite the tribes through a common enemy? Earth's history had shown that most conflicts weren't black and white, but there had also been times where societies decayed into utter atrociousness.
Whether they were evil or they just invaded because they needed more resources to sustain their population, from the perspective of the federation it probably looked like the former either way.
One morning a pleasant surprise awaited Armin when he woke up. Veyr's gentle voice roused Armin from a dream. "Good morning, Armin," Veyr said, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
"Good morning, Veyr," Armin replied, his halting grasp of the language improving daily. "Why you here?"
"Oh, not happy to see me?" Veyr teased, chuckling.
"No, no, I happy, but why?"
"Today we're going outside, so get ready young man."
Armin's eyes widened. 'Outside?', he had honestly not expected to be let out any time soon. The word sparked a rush of adrenaline. He leapt from bed, his small body buzzing with energy, and darted to the bathroom, splashing water from the plant-faucet across his face. His tattered tunic was gone, replaced by a regal robe, its fibers soft yet sturdy. He slipped his trusty nail into a pocket, and stepped into the hallway where Veyr and Silas waited. It was time to explore this magical city!
"Looks like you are ready, I shall lead the way, so just follow me, Silas will be right behind you"
Armin just nodded and followed along. They made their way through the long hallway, this time Armin paid more attention to his surroundings. There were other rooms like his, suggesting guest quarters for dignitaries.
A grand staircase loomed ahead, its steps carved from the heart of the massive tree, each one polished to a mirror-like sheen. Unlike the hidden spiral he'd climbed to reach the council chamber, this staircase was a lot more imposing.
"Where we go?" he asked as they started descending, glancing at Veyr.
"To the royal healer, you'll have checkups weekly from now on, to find out what's going on with your body"
"Is my body ill?"
"Maybe. We don't know yet."
Armin frowned, contemplating this new information. To him nothing seemed wrong with his body. There was the unnatural healing speed he had witnessed on his first day and the weird looks he got from time to time. 'I guess today I'll finally solve that mystery'
Meanwhile the stairs seemed to continue endlessly, but knowing how far above the city they were, Armin was not surprised. 'I really gotta invent elevators though'
"what you think is broke with my body" he asked Veyr again.
"Well, let's start by going over the basics. Do you remember when I taught you about magic and mana?"
"Yes"
"So as you know, mana is everywhere, it is primarily consumed and created by living beings, although some natural phenomena also do the same. Magic is the practice of using mana for various means outside of natural processes. So everyone can theoretically use magic and sense mana on some level."
"But I can not, is this the problem?"
"Yes and no. Magic is very hard to use, it requires years of dedication to achieve even moderate results, so most people never learn to wield it. It's mostly learned by soldiers, however I've heard that in the Mercantile Union they actually practice magic for purely commercial use. Anyways, this means it's not really odd for you to not be able to use magic, but being unable to sense magic is. If you could sense it you would quickly realize that your body is devoid of mana because it's expelling it."
"So something is definitely broken", Armin said, his tone flat.
"No not necessarily, you are a unique existence even among ascended slime-hybrids of which there have only ever been 4 in existence."
"I am ascended slime-hybrid, not human?"
"Huh? Nobody told you? Yes you are. Your father Syn was the first one. These hybrids cannot occur naturally and are always created. This had the side effect that they can't procreate, which led Syn to create more of his species, namely Vorsmelk and Elyxyn. But eventually his desire for a true son grew and so he created you, but the process was… complex. It made you different and led to you having the body constitution that you have today."
"Difficult"
"Indeed"
Armin's breath caught.
'Let's hope I don't have any concerning health complications. But also…..Syn's true son. A prince. So far I thought that I might be an illegitimate child or something else that needs to be hidden away.' The thought was exhilarating yet terrifying.
"Hey I have question"
"Go ahead"
"If I am prince, why prisoner?"
Veyr's smile faltered. "You're unique, Armin and some fear you're secretly some kind of abomination."
"But I am not"
"I think so too, and hopefully I can one day call you prince, if no council member or their clans get in the way."
As Armin concluded the determination to make this country his, they finally reached the end of the staircase, which led them into a grand entrance hall at the base of the massive tree. Its marble floor gleamed under the light filtering through a half dome of "glass", that was actually made of plants with thin translucent membranes spanning between its branches. Giant murals depicted Syn's rise, his slime form evolving into a king who united tribes against the Empire's wrath.
Outside, a heavily armored convoy awaited—raptor-mounted cavalry, flanked by harpies circling above. A carriage worthy of a prince stood at the center.
'Impressive', was his only thought, and despite his brief time here, he felt a faint flicker of national pride at this display of power.
They boarded the carriage and the convoy set into motion. Armin was looking out the window, observing the puzzling architecture of the city. Most buildings seemed to be grown out of trees or other plants, warped into shape. Their bark sculpted into arches and spires, vines weaving bridges that swayed gently in the breeze. Citizens—in all shapes and sizes—made way for the convoy, their gazes curious.
"What you see is the amalgamation of many people's work. The Federation's cities are grown," Veyr explained. "A grand ritual warps the forest into shape, allowing rapid relocation in case the Empire finds us."
'It's interesting to see how they developed in the absence of technological advancement, but I'm sure that introducing earth's technology will be a great boon for the country. I wonder how the other countries of this world look though.'
Armin was left alone with his thoughts about modernizing the globe, until they reached another one of the giant tree-structures similar in size to the palace.
"We've arrived Armin"
The convoy stopped in front of a beautiful, yet very familiar entrance hall, a mirror of the palace but subtler in its decorations. They exited their carriage and made their way through it towards the staircase that lay at the same spot as before. This time though they descended further down and Armin once again found himself being escorted through underground tunnels. Their walls lined with roots and glowing fruits that eerily illuminated only their path, fading behind them like a retreating tide. The path in front of them gradually opened up into a vast cave system. The air grew damp, the distant sound of flowing water echoing off stalactites that littered their surroundings. Their journey continued deeper into the cave. Armin's pulse quickened, the ceiling dripped with moisture, the darkness thick and oppressive.
"Just a heads up, the healer is a Spellwither, I'll spare you the details for now, just know that it uses telepathy, but can't read your thoughts so just respond normally."
They followed a narrow winding path between the stalagmites, until eventually Veyr halted at a black-sand beach in front of an underground lake, its surface still as glass. When they stepped onto the shore, the light from the ceiling stopped following them, as if afraid to venture further.
'This damn cave is 100% nightmare fuel'
Veyr bowed toward the dark water. "I greet Thal'Une's healer." He seemed to listen to something for a second before turning to Armin, "You'll be on your own from now on."
"What??"
"Don't worry, but whatever you do, don't panic."
'That most definitely did not make me worry less'
As Veyr and Silas retreated to the lighted path, Armin faced the lake, its surface reflecting his small, pale form and once again pulled out his favourite coping mechanism.
With his trusty nail in hand, he steeled himself for what horror lay beneath the black mirror-like surface.