Orja's world expanded significantly. The small stone chamber he'd been inside of for his entire life was apparently at the bottom of a much larger structure. A sub-basement, his Master called it. Magus Oriandus led the both of them to a round metallic platform. Like the circle earlier, and now in the walls that he could see near-constantly, the disc pulsed with light/energy.

Without preamble, Orja's Master stood on the disc, and gestured for the gemstone to follow. Shortly after Orja floated above the construction, the Magus performed a short gesture with a single hand. With a slight lurch, the platform began to rise. The curious gemstone channeled his awareness upwards, noticing that the ceiling above the both of them had given way to a large vertical shaft, barely larger than the platform itself.

A lurching motion signaled the beginning of the platform's rise. It passed several sets of doors stacked on top of each other, as smooth and solid as the one that had contained Orja. A mental note was added to his growing mental index to figure out what was behind the rest of those doors. It was possible that he had siblings, although unlikely from context clues. If they were actually siblings was an interesting thought problem. Were they related if created by the same being? Logically, the answer would seem to be yes, especially if they were created from the same materials. Organic beings may have some notion about 'blood-kin', but he was inorganic. There was no blood to denote kinship.

Considering lineage and genealogy consumed the rest of the ride. Around floor three there was a shift in construction materials from rough-hewn stone blocks to some kind of smoother material. It appeared much like a smooth, dark stone however was entirely without seams or tooling marks. It was, to all appearances, a singular piece above the third floor. Orja felt a sudden desire to touch the walls, but lacked the appendages to do so. It was the first real regret of his life.

“The construction method of the walls around us is unknown to me,” he said, “The appearance suggests your home is a single large stone, however there are no signs of manufacture.”

Oriandus smiled, letting his fingers brush the walls as the platform rose. “One of my better ideas. I paid for my tower to be built from the detritus and leftovers from a dozen different buildings. Once it was all together, you should have seen it,” The Magus' eyes shone as he reflected on the past, “A hundred different types of stone and wood, stacked precariously to a height that the artisans who worked on it said would not stand for long.” The bearded man chuckled, shaking his head.

“On every piece big enough I wrote a three point Joining Rune. Now, normally Joining is used for repairing something that was whole in the first place. Three points, even if the average person knows that many, are seen as overkill. The extra Resonance bleeds off when the item is healed,” The Magus jabbed at Orja excitedly, “But I knew better! There had to be a reason for such a Rune to exist! So as my tower was built, I readied probably the largest ritual ever cast in this kingdom.”

“Four accumulators (a person or thing that accumulates. Not helpful), one at each cardinal point supplied the Resonance. I laid down a three layer concentric circle with binding wards to prevent any mishaps, as well as to disguise my workings from those arrogant enough to consider themselves my rivals. Like a giddy child, I activated it.” With a broad sweep of his hand, Oriandus gestured to the walls.

The top of the shaft opened as they approached it. For the first time in his life, natural light fell on Orja. The platform rose above the last level, stopping smoothly at what could only be the top of the tower. In each direction, as far the stone could perceive, stretched the horizon. Closest to the tower was a forest. The trees stood in even rows, their leafy canopies masking the ground. Past that to the west and north was what appeared to be farmland. Far to the east rose mountains, their snow-covered caps glaring in the light.

The top of the tower itself was different than Orja expected. The smooth material rose in columns around them, forming a lattice dome over the entire roof. Flowering vines descended from the dome. Orja supposed that the air would smell fragrant, but lacked any olfactory (relating to the sense of smell) ability to confirm or deny. There was a small table and matching chair under the dome.

Oriandus did not sit at the table. Instead he walked to the edge of the tower, looking out over the trees and into the distance. A moment passed of utter stillness, silence broken only by the wind. The Magus took a deep breath and turned, extending his arms to both sides.

“The Rune worked as I thought it would. The materials in my tower blended together, the Joining forcing their natures to be as one, a new substance with properties of stone, wood, and metal. My tower stands for nine stories above the ground, a monolith for all the world to see. It has no weaknesses, no flaws. I call it Cloudrise.”

It was a suitably impressive speech. A definite tone of grandeur and majesty was struck. There was one thing that stuck in the mind of the gem, however.

“Why were the first three levels not one piece, then?”

There was nothing for a moment. Then, The Greatest Magus of All Time deflated visibly. His mouth opened and closed twice as his hands moved in front of him in an explanatory gesture.

“I'm working on some basement levels,” he clarified, “Once they're all done then I'll be able to enact the ritual again. It's just too costly in materials to do smaller versions of the ritual over and over again. Also, that many workings would really pollute the background Resonance in the area.” Oriandus straightened, thinking about something. With a dawning realization, he opened his mouth again, “Wait a minute, I don't have to explain myself to you!”

“Explanations would seem to be required if you are attempting to train me to be your assistant.” Orja was not trying to be impolite, merely stating what he felt was obvious. If the Magus wished to have an assistant who could perform at their full ability, they would need a totality of information. Such a glaring inconsistency in material observation compared to the story of Cloudrise as told by the Magus demanded clarification in Orja's nonexistent eyes.

Said Magus was rubbing his temples in little circles, muttering to himself. “Of course, it's new, it's going to question,” he said to himself, “...that's what I made it for. Calm down, answer questions.” He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “You're absolutely correct. I withdraw my previous statement. You were created to be knowledgeable and the first step of knowledge is understanding what questions to ask.”

That statement did fit with Orja's burgeoning internal logic, so he chose to remain silent. He did, in fact, have many questions, but the temple-rubbing motion signified frustration and a potential headache. Not things he wanted to foster in the only being that he knew of able to destroy him (Well, the only being he knew at all, but the destroying thing was definitely important.)

Oriandus spared a look around the roof. “I think that's enough time taking in the sights. Come on, let's get inside and figure out how we're going to do this.” Orja followed him to the now-opening floor, and floating back over the platform after the Magus stepped onto it.

The platform descended, taking the view of the outside world with it.