Blessing of Lustrous Carmine

Recommended Essence to infuse

Essence that contains one of the following stats is recommended:

Flow: Absolver of Guilt

The Sarkaz sat in a circle upon the soft, mushy snow. They had discussed the same problems multiple times for the past few months. Tactics for dealing with the ubiquitous Aggeloi, how many soldiers they should send to search and rescue the other races who were inept in fighting, and how they should live with the collapse of the Cosmic Gate and the fact that they would never see Kazdel again.

The Aggeloi were like an unending flood. The swarming host covered every road, forced them out of the northern frontier outposts, and sent them on a desperate retreat. Once again they became roamers. A people without a future in sight, and without a way back to their homeworld.

The sunlight reflecting off the great rings of the gas giant grew dimmer by the day. The walls became increasingly caked in blood, and food reserves ran low. The air grew stale and suffocating as fewer people had ideas to share. The Sarkaz remained silent, even when the Samifjod shared their goodwill.

But this day was different, thought Fleming. Everyone must say something, so he broke the silence first. "Do we have a conclusion on that Feranmut tooth? Turn it into another Lifebone?"

"I don't get it. Why give us a thing of such great value?"

"Because we offered them crucial military support, maybe?"

There was a brief pause. "But the Feranmut fell anyways."

"Their Snowpriests mentioned a prophecy about us..."

Confusion and uncertainty still saturated their words, but there was progress, however slow it was. Fleming tried to direct the flow of the discussion in the way he intended, and he did so by tweaking the topic. "There's no need to overthink it. This planetoid has a vile temper, one that forces people to work together if they wish to survive. And our relations with the Samifjod go way back. This isn't just about us. The others need the Lifebone as well. We must return north, win this war, and save more people... Our only consideration is how we can secure the blessing."

When the "north" was mentioned, the Sarkaz fell silent once more. Nobody knew how long this war was going to last, and they were already tired and sick of it.

Curses. A mistake.

Fleming wiped the sweat from his forehead. The best sales pitch should never, ever reveal its bottom line so quickly. While he squeezed out a smile and frantically prepared another topic to revive the discussion, a Vampiress sitting furthest away, one that Fleming hardly knew, whose name even escaped his memories, took the lead. Elegantly she leaned against her thorny spear of blood red carmine, and spoke in her gentle voice that Fleming was familiar with.

"Why? Don't any of you look forward to this? Tell me how many Sarkazian cities did we have back on Terra?" she purred as moldable blood glistened and rippled in mid-air as it slowly took the form of a city. "And now we have this distant planet filled with mysteries. Imagine, if you can, the possibility of us forging an era of peace, and think of the Talosian land and skies — I believe the time has come for us to raise our new home."

"A floating city that cruises through the heavens upon the bones of the Feranmut. It must have its own style, and a powerful name." Fleming heard himself talk.

"What about New Kazdel? Wait, that sounds too big... How about New Furnace?"

"It would need a ring of permanent artillery and defensive works. Don't want no flying buggerloids striking from the skies!"

The discussion turned solemn, somber, and stern... The people's faces revealed their longing for the new city that they would soon be building with their hands. The hesitation and uncertainty that reigned over the emotions of the Sarkaz were dispelled, and an unprecedented urge of impatience took their places. While the crowd clamored and argued, someone blurted out the word — "Seš'qa". A word without the prestige or greatness most envisioned, a place to serve a simple purpose. A midway stopping point between the road forward and the road home.

But it was a beautiful word. Fleming juggled it on his tongue and mulled over the delicate tremors felt by his lower mandible, given force by the pulmonary exhalation required to lend voice to the word. An idea slowly crept into his mind — Why should the Sarkaz be a dark, brooding people with a penchant for violence and seek only warfare as their companion? No. The new city should be a theme park with a giant wheel ride, open-air bazaar, theaters, and every element of fun that could fit, and it did not matter if the element was not part of the Sarkazian past.

The northern winds cut like razors, and it was the frigid cold that keptFleming's mind in a state of crystalline clarity. His imaginations went wild. He had events in mind. "Lift-Off Day", "Open Day", "Parade of the Royal Courts" — festivals that the Sarkaz could use to gently land upon this planet, like a dandelion seed.

This new city would not be blanketed in smoke from the funeral pyres for the fallen warriors. Instead, it would have something far more beautiful, like fireworks to bless its existence.

It did not matter what the others thought. The Speaker on the other side of the Cosmic Gate should love this idea. She would be happy whenever someone mentions anything about explosives.

Fleming would have many chances to prove his skills as a merchant. The next course of action would be to sell this idea.