I spent a few days in my courtyard, absorbing the knowledge from the expensive scrolls Kessandra had sold me. The direct knowledge transfer was efficient, pouring centuries of magical theory directly into my mind. It felt like drinking from a river, information flooding in faster than I could consciously process, settling into understanding only after the fact, although I understood that it was only because of my divinity that I could absorb it so fast, a mortal would be taking months to slowly absorb the knowledge scroll bit by bit and even then there was a lot of useless knowledge in there.
The Great Wheel cosmology made sense now. Sixteen outer planes arranged in a philosophical ring, each one representing different moral and ethical extremes. The Outlands sat at the center, true neutrality balancing all the opposing forces. And Tradegate connected directly to Bytopia, the plane of honest work and pastoral paradise.
I'd helped forge enormous projects before, shaped divine artifacts that could reshape fate itself. I wanted to understand how these planes connected, how their gates functioned, that knowledge would definitely spark ideas I hadn't considered in millennia. If I could forge my own gate somehow it would be amazing.
On the fourth day, I decided to examine the gate itself.
The portal to Bytopia stood in the center of Tradegate's main plaza, exactly where the five points of the star converged. It looked like a massive archway constructed from golden stone that seemed to glow with internal warmth. Merchants and travelers passed through it constantly, their forms shimmering as they crossed the threshold between.
I approached during a lull in traffic, my divine senses extended to their fullest. The gate's construction was elegant. Simple in concept, extraordinarily complex in execution. The archway itself was just a frame, a physical anchor for the magical working that actually created the portal. Runes covered every surface, each one an enormous magical mathematical equation describing the relationship between Tradegate and Bytopia.
The magic flowed both ways. Power from Bytopia fed the gate, keeping it stable, while the gate itself regulated the flow of travelers and prevented unwanted intrusions. A self-sustaining system, balanced and efficient.
I reached out, my fingers brushing the stone. The runes responded to my touch, warming slightly. I could feel the connection stretching through the archway, piercing the fabric between planes, anchoring itself in Bytopia on the other side.
Fascinating.
"You planning to go through, or just admiring the craftsmanship?" A gnome merchant stood beside me, a cart full of what appeared to be glowing vegetables at his side.
"Admiring," I said honestly. "I've never seen a permanent planar gate before. The construction is remarkable."
"Aye, that it is. Been standing for thousands of years, maintained by the Parliament and the energies of Bytopia itself." He gestured at the archway. "You should visit sometime. Beautiful place, Bytopia. Twin layers, both paradises in their own way. Honest folk, hard workers, good food."
"Twin layers?"
"Dothion and Shurrock. Mirror each other, they do. You look up from one, you see the other hanging overhead like the sky turned solid. Gives some folk vertigo, but it's worth seeing at least once."
I considered that. Twin paradises, hanging in space, reflections of each other. The view alone would be extraordinary.
"I think I will," I said. "Just for a look."
The gnome grinned. "Safe travels, friend. Mind the gravity shift when you reach the middle point between layers. That catches newcomers every time."
I stepped through the archway.
The transition was smoother than my journey from Olympus to Tradegate. No chaos winds, no sense of being unmade and remade. Just a step forward, a brief moment of disorientation, and suddenly I stood in a completely different place.
Dothion spread before me in rolling hills covered in wildflowers. The air smelled like fresh bread and honey. In the distance, I could see farmsteads and small villages, smoke rising from chimneys. The sky overhead wasn't sky at all. Another landscape hung there, inverted, mountains and forests visible in impossible detail.
Shurrock, I realized. The twin layer, looking down at me from above.
I walked a short distance from the gate, examining the landscape. Everything here felt... wholesome. That was the only word for it. The grass was greener, the flowers brighter, the air cleaner. This was a plane built on the concept of honest work and simple pleasures, and it showed in every detail.
Beautiful, in its way. Peaceful.
Boring.
I'd spent millennia in paradise. Olympus was supposed to be the pinnacle of divine perfection, and I'd found it suffocating. This place, for all its genuine charm, felt too simple. Too uncomplicated. There was no challenge here, no complexity to unravel, no problems that required clever solutions.
I returned to the gate after perhaps half an hour, stepping back through to Tradegate. The merchant was still there, loading his cart.
"That was quick," he observed.
"It's lovely," I said honestly. "Just not what I'm looking for right now."
"Fair enough. Not everyone's suited for paradise."
I spent the rest of the day sketching diagrams in my courtyard, working through the principles of gate construction. The magic was different from what I knew, relying on planar energies rather than divine will. I could adapt it, though. Combine the concepts with my own understanding of craftsmanship and dimensional manipulation but I don't think i had the full picture just yet…
The possibilities were extraordinary. Gates that could connect anywhere. Anchors that could stabilize connections between realities. Tools that would let me travel freely without relying on the ring's brute-force approach to dimensional transit.
But I needed more information. More examples of gate construction, more understanding of how different planes connected.
That evening, I found my way to a tavern frequented by caravan guards and long-distance traders. The Wandering Wheel, it was called, decorated with maps from a dozen different planes. I ordered food that tasted like spiced meat and vegetables I couldn't identify, and listened to the conversations around me.
"I am heading to Excelsior next week, Brandon," a human woman was saying to her companions. "I have got a shipment of Bytopian grain that'll fetch good prices near Mount Celestia. Those celestials pay premium for honest-grown food. The feeling in the food fills them."
"Excelsior," another voice said. "Definitely a beautiful city. All the white stones and golden spires. Will make you feel virtuous just walking through it."
Mount Celestia. I remembered Michael's memories supplying context. The plane of lawful good, home to celestials and the most rigid interpretation of virtue in the multiverse. Seven layers, each one closer to absolute perfection.
Another gate to examine. Another point for understanding planar connections.
I approached the woman's table. "Excuse me. I heard you mention traveling to Excelsior. Would your caravan accept another traveler? I can pay my way, and I'm handy in a fight if trouble arises."
She looked me over, assessing. "You've got the build of a fighter. What's your weapon?"
"Hammer," I said, which was true enough.
"We could use another guard. Lost two in a skirmish with bandits last month." She named a price, reasonable for the distance. "We leave in three days. Be at the eastern gate before dawn."
"I'll be there."
The next two days I spent preparing. I purchased a horse from a stable near the eastern wall, a sturdy mare with a coat the color of dark bronze. She regarded me with intelligent eyes when I approached her stall, and didn't spook when I reached out to touch her neck.
"That one has a good temperament," the stable master said. "She won't panic in a fight, which is valuable on the roads around here."
I named her Khalkós, the Greek word for bronze. She seemed to approve, nuzzling my hand when I offered her an apple.
I also visited Torben's shop one last time, purchasing several ingots of materials that caught my interest. Astral driftmetal, baatorian green steel, a few samples of elementally infused metals. The dwarf watched me work through his inventory with professional interest.
"Planning to set up a forge somewhere?" he asked.
"Eventually. First I want to see more of the Outlands, understand how everything connects."
"That's good, too many craftsmen settle in one place without understanding the full scope of what's available." He wrapped the ingots carefully. "You should definitely come back through Tradegate sometime, stop by. I'd still be interested in that collaboration."
"I will," I promised.
On the morning of the third day, I arrived at the eastern gate before dawn. The caravan was already assembling: six wagons loaded with goods, a dozen guards, and various travelers who'd paid for safe passage. The woman I'd spoken to, who introduced herself as Captain Mira, checked my name off a list and pointed me toward the rear of the convoy.
"You'll have to ride back here with Jace and Tommen. They're good men and experienced fighters. Follow their lead if we run into trouble."
Jace was a half-orc with a crossbow slung across his back. Tommen was human, older, with scars that spoke of a long career as a caravan guard. Both nodded at me in greeting.
"Is it your first time on the roads?" Jace asked as we rode out through the gate.
"In the Outlands, yes. I'm used to different kinds of travel."
"The route to Excelsior is usually safe," Tommen said. "Usually. But the Outlands attract all sorts, and not everyone's content to make an honest living. Keep your eyes open, especially when we pass through the Hinterlands. we will also be passing nearby to some mountains."
The journey began peacefully enough. We followed a well-maintained road that curved away from Tradegate, heading west of the distant Spire that marked the center of the Outlands. The landscape shifted gradually, meadows giving way to rolling hills, then to rougher terrain.
Other travelers passed us going the opposite direction. A group of baatezu merchants. A trio of celestials, their wings folded against their backs, who nodded politely as they flew overhead. A caravan of modrons, clockwork-like beings moving in perfect formation.
The multiverse was more diverse than I'd imagined, even with Michael's memories preparing me.
We camped the first night in a cleared area off the main road. Captain Mira organized watches, and I volunteered for the late shift. Nothing disturbed us except the distant howl of something that might have been a wolf, if wolves existed in places where reality worked differently.
The second day brought us into rougher territory. The road grew narrower, winding between rocky outcroppings. The Hinterlands, Tommen called them. Less traveled, less safe, the kind of place where things that didn't belong anywhere else tended to gather.
We were perhaps two hours from the evening camping spot when Jace raised his hand, calling for a halt.
"Movement ahead," he said quietly. "Behind those rocks."
I extended my senses casually, feeling for life and only for intent. There were perhaps a dozen strange figures concealed in the rocks, waiting and their heartbeats were elevated, excited. The anticipation of violence.
Captain Mira had already drawn her sword. "Positions," she called out. "Defensive formation around the wagons."
The guards moved with practiced efficiency, forming a perimeter. I dismounted from Khalkós, this was going to be interesting.