“That do sound a mite fair difficult,” Lord Mick agreed with me. “Benefits?”

“+6 Bonus to Dex limit over standard Armors,” I informed him.

He blinked. “Fer no Slot?” he repeated, just to be sure.

“None. It’s like 10k in goldweight-equiv crafting, however. Can’t gain it with Naming Karma.”

“That’s… a lot o’ work for Armor. Like, working on a full set o’ adamantine full plate,” the Mick pointed out, remembering some of the numbers Kristie had given him for high-end Gear.

“The alloys are extremely exotic, the Skill reqs are impressive, to say the least, and she’ll be coming to me to get the raw materials Energized if she were to make it. It’s really good stuff, just a degree below skinmail or skinplate.”

Which, since it involved a suit of Armor basically being worn as a second skin, was the apex of Dexterity-centered Armor. Shieldplate, which maxed out the Damage Reduction side of things, was its toughness-centered counterpart.

“So, that be something that we set up orders for. Gor, no instant armor rewards an’ master craftsmen needing time t’ make something! What be the world coming to?” he complained fervently to the sky.

“Speaking of master craftsmen making something, interested in a second job after this harvest run ends?” I asked him.

His dark eyes glittered with interest. “Aren’t ye still workin’ on yer Pyramid?” he inquired in amusement.

“Taking a day off for a break.” These harvest runs never went on more than four hours before taking off, as that time limit tended to just start hitting the danger level of mana expenditures.

People who argued they could last just a little bit longer were encouraged to remain behind so nobody but them would die from their greed in the future. They had learned to shut up and play it safe rather quickly after that.

“What are ye looking at?” he asked reasonably, wondering what would get me so interested.

“Found the mine where the rose quartz for my Ring came from.” I pointed north and a little west. “About nine miles that way.”

He’d been there when I found my Rose of Celdon replica, and I could see the instant interest of following up on a forgotten or hidden Quest chain pop in his eyes. Try as he might to deny it, those had been some of the funnest days of his life.

“Not something ye care to solo?” he asked calmly.

“Well, there’s a new olthoi hive parked right on top of it,” I admitted casually.

“Gor, that might be a bit hard to solo,” he admitted. “What about Her Highness? Not inviting her?”

“You might have noticed that she’s in the middle of a rather involved wiping of ground with a whole lot of rather aggressive soldiers and her students. This would be taking away some of her Fuzzy time.”

“She do get a mite testy when she don’t get some o’ the big lug,” the Mick admitted casually, a fact usually taken out on anyone commenting on her resulting bad temper. “Still, wouldn’t that be giving the big man a bit o’ R&R from the likes of her?” he had to grin.

“The only thing Briggs might be getting tired of as regards her is smiling too much after a night of power-grappling.”

“That be true. I take it she be capable of controlling her times, and no kids be on the way soon?” he had to ask.

“Aye, total control of the menstrual cycle. Kris’ll have kids when she wants to have kids, and not whit sooner or later.”

“I be notin’ that ye’ve not managed t’ find yerself a man either, lass. Ye do know that half the Casters in the Freehold forces be carryin’ a torch for ye, right?”

“The likelihood of me taking a fellow spellcaster as a spouse is not very high, Lord Mick,” I replied with my usual calm, although he was indeed listening keenly. “No such man is going to like me being better at the same duties as him, and I’m not interested in having a house-husband, either.”

“Ye’re lookin’ fer a paramount non-Caster?” he asked, eyebrows rising in surprise.

“With steadfast morals and not intimidated or threatened by my own accomplishments. How many of the existing paramounts do you think that applies to?”

He actually stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Ho… I’ll throw in mature and not rash an’ seekin’ t’ prove themselves, as ye act older than I be, sometimes. Aye, and good morals, that be difficult among me fair rivals an’ peers…” he trailed off, a ghost of a smile flashing past.

“I saw a name pop up in that scoundrel’s head of yours,” I noted calmly.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Well, aye,” he coughed. “Not sure ye want to hear ‘em?”

“Oh, I’m definitely interested in what the Black Aluvian roguish Lord having an affair with the Queen Mother would consider a proper match for me,” I replied easily.

He was utterly unaffected by that observation. “Well, her son be one o’ em.”

I just blinked a moment at that. I had been consciously staying away from any sort of climbing the power scale, such that I’d actually been refusing to picture King Borelean as anything more than a necessary and competent social acquaintance. His not being in the Markspace didn’t help his chances, although his Aura was solid Silver, and he’d likely be a Paladin in any other time and place.

“Interesting your thoughts turned that way. I have noticed the mixed looks he turns Kris’ way, especially after she found Briggs.”

“Aye, that. A woman like that at his side, his family’s hold on the throne be all but assured, but again, he couldn’t control someone like that, an’ he be loving his daughter too much t’ consider such a move.”

“And I’d be more appropriate?” I was amused at the idea.

“Well, ye aren’t pursuing secular power at all,” the Mick pointed out to me. “All yer power is wielded in the magical community an’ in teaching people t’ better themselves. The fact yer terrifyingly strong is only contrasted with the fact that ye don’t show off, don’t flex, an’ ye’ve so much restraint ye basically shame every other Caster in yer area into following along with yer example.

“Yer a mother figure, an’ Her Highness is more a wild lover or overprotective big sister figure to everyone. Truth be told, a lot o’ folk wonder how ye put up with one another so much, an’ just figure ye’ve the patience of a saint.”

“And you?” I had to ask at that.

He looked away, up at the sky. “She puts on a damn fine act,” he said flatly, and I had to smile. “I can see ye both in the Markspace, ye know, even if most o’ those there can’t. What everyone sees as wild activity an’ rambunctiousness is just her burning off those emotions that be roiling through her all the time, an’ they don’t see the iron hard controlled bitch calculatin’ cold an’ mean an’ dangerous as all fuck behind them violet eyes o’ hers.”

“Aye, she and her sisters and mother have a Stupidity Stat of legendary proportions, always pushing them to test their limits. People just don’t understand that what looks like rash behavior from their side is just ‘I gotta do this or I’m going to wonder forever if I could’, balancing costs and consequences, and taking the moment to stretch and measure the right way against the possible way.”

“A Stupidity Stat, now.” He tried to fight back the smile and couldn’t. “Well named, that.”

“Can you imagine what she’d be like without it?” I challenged him.

His eyes grew thoughtful as he considered that. “That would be a damn terrifying woman all the time,” he admitted. “Now she’s fearsome, but it’s a fun kind of fearsome, glad she be on our side. If she didn’t act like such an emotional hothead at times…”

“Ranthas exult in who and what they are. They love being strong and fast and smart and skilled and dangerous… but they also know very, very well what it means to NOT be that way. You want to piss off a Rantha, just start picking on those weaker than you for no reason, or to cause pain, or to kill. No surer way to tweak that Stupidity Stat, except it’s all focused on you, and they will put ALL the emotion behind fixing your problem for you.”

“Aye, believing that.” His eyes narrowed at he looked at her in Markspace, surrounded by strings and threads connected actively to Briggs, her students, and the forces at work in the south. “She’s holdin’ in some damn awesome grudges. I can feel ‘em reverberating in the Markspace around her like unseen thunderstorms, ready to strike.”

“Oh, that’s totally true. In anyone else, they’d be life-consuming obsessions. To a Rantha, they are just items to check off the list, in their time and place… but they are always working towards them.”

“Aye? What obsessions now?” he had to ask.

“Well, she went all-heart into the legends of the Lost Light. The undead and shades of Bael’Zharon who brought them down are Hope-slayers to her, and she’s determined to prove them utterly wrong. That’s why she’s down south now, considering that’s the highest and best thing she could be doing. That it brings revenge for what they did during the Fall is only a bonus.”

“Aye, then.” There was a swirl of Radiant particles coming up his arm from Bunita’s hilt. “A code worth the believing in is something too few find in their lives,” he admitted with uncharacteristically quiet respect.

“Aye. Then, the olthoi made a damnably deep impression on her when we came into Holtburg. She knows what hiveminds are like and has no mercy for them. She will see them expunged from this island, and if need be, from the world entire in time. They’ve made a horrible and implacable enemy of her, and likely have no idea of the scale or seriousness of it.”

“Ho. That be a grudge big enough to power you through a lifetime, I be thinkin’,” he nodded once.

“On a minor level, she is definitely going to kill Bonecrunch and bring his whole kingdom of drudges down in vivic flame.”

“Made her promise not t’ do that one without me,” he mentioned through grit teeth.

“So did King Borelean. That’s why the Royals are so represented as she forges the road to the Lost Light.”

All three generations of the Boreleans were fighting on the landbridge to the south, committing themselves to a cause that was even greater than the kingdom of Isparians they represented.

Standing in the sun and fighting wasn’t exactly what the Scouts were meant to be doing, however, so it was not a priority for the Mick to lead his people there. If they had that goal, however, he would certainly have encouraged them towards it.

“What was the other names? You had more than one?” I prodded him.

“Oh, that. Mmm. Master Ben Ten,” he mentioned in a dismissive aside that was all act.

Okay, that startled me. “Really.” An undead swordmaster was definitely not something I’d been prone to consider as an amour, Curse-born or no.

“Aye. He’s likely not aware of it himself. But when I stop in on the old master, it’s not Her Highness he be asking about.”

Huh. A traditional Sho swordmaster and philosopher. Well, that was definitely someone different from an Aluvian King, such as it was, at least once I restored him to living and breathing life.

Likely he’d also realized that his only legacy had been his students, and no children or family of his own, in a time and place where more children were the only way to restore the future, and teaching them the only way we’d survive as a people.

Perhaps all of it was only increased by his exposure to greater powers of the universe, beyond what he had ever thought possible.

“Your matchmaking references are noted, Lord Mick. Ready for a side trip to a new Dungeon/hive/mine?” I asked him.

“Of course, lass!” There was a grunt from Master Belmer, and the Mick glided forwards to confront the Fire and Lightning-incarnated Conflagration Elemental ready to spout from the shaved-down Dual Stone that the gemcutter had chipped down...