Far beyond Embla’s sky was a fleet of small, blue-silver, vessels that drifted through the cosmos hidden beneath a field that blocked all eyes and ears both mortal and divine.

Occasionally one of the vessels would branch off leaving the wandering armada to either dive into the heart of a star, or submerge themselves within the depths of some gas planet or water world, or land upon the surface of some desolate dwarf planet, asteroid, or lifeless moon.

They would drift onwards for lightyears, their journey lasting for eons. Each probe would create more probes. Their number eventually superseding that of the stars they’d been sent to inspect.

The vessel were all tied to a hive intelligence, and each had instructions to taken an in-depth survey of Darkgrand. They also had instruction to collect and gather raw materials that would be sent back to the whale-like mother ships that trailed them from behind, waiting for the day that they collected enough raw materials to go from being ships, to being semi-stationary installations that hung anchored in space, communicating amongst themselves, collecting knowledge and raw materials and sending it back to the prime unit back in Embla, using space-folding technology.

As for the “prime unit” he sat in a courtyard that was about ten times larger than that already fairly expansive courtyard he’d lived and worked in before. Wearing a fixed smile and trying not tear his hair out as he reacquainted himself with the all of the very human sensations that came with being severely stressed.

That armada he’d set loose was his version of rock garden, something he was doing in a feeble attempt to decompress the building pressure inside his chest.

It had been a while since Edwin Oedheim last felt stress. Even back when he was a ship, and he had all the gods, demons, angels, spirits and fae of the universe that he’d more or less destroyed, chasing him, he’d not been stressed in the same way that people felt stress. There was fear, there was trepidation, there was an extreme concern about his continued existence, but there’d been no stress.

There was no grinding his teeth, no feeling like he was flailing and treading water as he tried to complete what was steadily beginning to feel like an undoable task. Being a machine was simpler than being a person. The only time machines had to worry about not succeeding was if they happened to be broken and old ED-108 had been a machine that could not only fix itself, it, he, could improve himself as well.

Getting smarter, faster, more efficient.

Had the nemesis race believed in capitalism, Ed-108 would have surely been scrapped for fear of what his mere existence would do to the markets.

People weren’t like that, Jotun weren’t like that. When jotun ran into challenges that were harder than they could deal with, while some struggled through it and managed to overcome the challenge, many would fail and possibly die.

Fortunately Edwin, wasn’t an ordinary Jotun. He was someone who had the option of being more like a machine than a man. He was someone who’d once run much of the infrastructure and administration for an entire intergalactic civilization, if the current him was having trouble dealing with a stressful then he simply had to improve himself till he was more than equal to the task.

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To the surprise of Edwin, and several other personages who were secretly reporting to the other sects, Edwin had somehow gotten himself the position of a sect elder. He was even an elder of the sect’s core-circle at that. A fact that galled a few of the people who’d wanted the boy promoted for reasons of self-interest but had never said anything about him getting promoted above them.

The one responsible for this debacle Sect Head Suresh, currently sat the back of his new Elder’s courtyard questioning his own sanity.

It wasn’t the promotion to Sect Elder he was questioning, Radha Suresh was questioning what happened afterwards.

It was customary for a new Sect Elder to be put through a sort of trial by fire when they were first promoted. Similar to the Sect Head, the Sect Elders of the Radiant Orrichalcum Gardens reported directly to their parent-sect the Resplendant Orrichalcum Lords which were located over in Lumi, the coldest of Embla’s continents.

Which meant that they had to be tested, the test entailed a simply dry run where one strove to fulfill “all” of the ostensibly unreasonable expectations that fell upon those who got the position of Elder or Sect Head. The intention was for the newly promoted sect member to crash and fall, and learn a vital lesson in humility and relying on ones seniors. With the more experienced elders coming to “save the day” and the take over the duties when the younger elder finally ran into a hurdle that they couldn’t overcome.

The thing was, this was week nine of the Oedheim boy’s test, and he seemed to be doing fine. Better than fine. In an attempt to bring the trial period to an end Sect Head Suresh had even continued adding to the young Elder’s duties. Continuing to pile on more weight and pressure to make the young man collapse.

Giving the youth more responsibilities and access to privileged information than might have been prudent.

It had gotten to the point that there were almost no other Sect Elders doing “anything” that could defined as routine or non-high priority, and even the Sect Head had relinquished a few day to day duties. Just to make the youngster collapse and teach him a lesson that he seemed to be stubbornly refusing to learn.

At first the Sect Head and all the other Elders of the sect were wrought thinking the youth was simply being prideful and holding mum. Letting things slide by way side as he tried to do the impossible...but then they looked a little closer and realized to their consternation and surprise, the young man was actually fully fulfilling all the duties that he’d been given. Overseeing sect operations both within the sect grounds and in the broader portions of Harta. He wasn’t just doing as expected. He was exceeding expectations. Innovating. Improving.

He’d held on so long and so well, that the betting pool that the other senior members of the sect were holding on when the boy would eventually, inevitably, break had risen to an astronomical sum. The Sect Head found himself stuck between a feeling of awe and trepidation.

On the one hand, what the boy was achieving was impressive. On the other hand, the boy’s achievements were ultimately troublesome as more than a few sect elders who’d normally be tied down by tasks and duties were now running loose, giving in to their repressed eccentricities. That old saying about idle hands wasn’t just a saying, and it didn’t expire just because the hands in mention were centuries old.

Fortunately, the youth was somehow managing to continue fulfilling the duty that had been the main reason so many of his seniors had called for his promotion.

By the time Sect Head Suresh had finally given into tall the nominations and vouching, there wasn’t a single talent, including the Sect Head’s own daughter and future heir, that wasn’t being taught by the youth.

Sect Head Suresh wasn’t sure what to think about the whole issue on the one hand, he was certain the boy was some kind of monster, because only a monster could do the things the boy did and stay sane. On the other hand, preparing for a sect war with the overseas sect that was slowly trying to expand its influence in Harta was almost stupidly easy when one had someone else to worry about the day to day concerns.