“If he can’t think of things which don’t exist, I’ll help him,” Adam assured, holding the Elder’s eyes.

“What kind of things?”

Adam swallowed, wondering how much he should say. “A watch you can wear on your wrist, that can fall from the greatest of heights, and still work. One which you can use to measure the time of a task separately to measuring the time of the day.” It wasn’t something that impressive to Adam, but he still hoped.

Zijin, the Orcish Iyrman, was an Elder of the Iyr. The Iyr, a people who enjoyed going out to fight, and to war. The invention of a watch, which could be worn at one’s wrist, and could last through the motions of combat, was extremely useful. “I will inform Elder Gold and the Chief of the request.”

Adam narrowed his eyes. Elder Gold and he were not on the best of terms, though she had promised him something which had gone against the Iyrman’s principles. ‘If it’s her, then there’s a chance she doesn’t trust me enough.’

“If Elder Gold is hesitant, I’d like to speak with the Chief,” Adam said. The Chief was one of the few who knew his story. “I can tell him something which will convince him, for sure.”

Zijin bowed his head. He had guessed that Adam was something who was more than meets the eye, and assumed it was even greater than he imagined. “I will pass on the message.”

“Thanks,” Adam said, standing. He stretched out his arms and back. “I don’t feel lucky today, so I don’t have any plans. Is there anywhere that you need me?”

“There is no place which requires you,” Zijin replied.

“I didn’t mean that,” Adam said, chuckling. “I meant, is there anywhere where I’ll be useful to help? You know, like chopping down trees, farming, carrying stuff around, that sort of thing?”

“Are you in such a rush to work again?”

“I gave Filliam some inspiration when I told him to relax and take it easy, so I feel a little guilty that he’s going to shut himself in to tinker again.”

Zijin reaching into the large pouch pocket within his shirt, pulling out a sheet of paper. “I can send you to cut wood.”

“Sure,” Adam replied.

Zijin made a small marking. “Then I will have someone escort you.”

“Alright, cool.”

The Elder found an Iyrman who was free to escort the Half Elf to the forest. It was a young Devilkin, in his early teens or so. At his side was a hammer with a thick head, and a dagger, though most Iyrmen wore daggers at their hips.

“You are to escort Adam to the forest your mother is currently working,” the Elder informed.

“Yes, Elder,” the boy proclaimed eagerly, standing as tall as he could.

“Good morning,” Adam called, shaking the boy’s forearm. “Adam Fateson.”

“Samhyp, son of Zamhyp,” the young Iyrman replied. “Are you Adam who wishes to become Unri-“

“Yes,” Adam replied, quickly cutting off the boy. ‘How does everyone know of my dark past?’

“I, too, will become Unrivalled Under The Heavens,” the boy said.

Adam winced from the name. ‘Why did I have to say something so cringe back then? Seriously…’

The boy led Adam through the winding tunnels of the Iyrmen, before he came across a large forest. There were at least a hundred Iyrmen around, each chopping down trees in their own section. The trees were quite thin, each tree no thicker than Adam’s bicep when it was flexed.

“Mother, I have brought Adam on Elder Zijin’s instructions,” the boy said to his mother, who was a Devilkin in her early thirties.

“You are the one they call Son of Fate?” the woman asked.

“That’s the one,” Adam said. “Adam Fateson.”

“Not the Son of Fate?”

“It’s a lot easier to say Fateson,” Adam said. “Sounds slightly more normal too.”

“Are you not a member of the Rot family?”

“Yes,” Adam said. “I’m a Nephew.”

“They will think you are a member of the Son family.” She smiled at her joke.

“Is there a Son family?”

“No,” she said, before shaking his forearm. “I am Zamhyp.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The woman brushed her son’s hair and pat his head. “You did well to bring him. You may return.”

“Yes, mother,” the boy replied, chuffed to bits. “Goodbye, Adam Fateson.”

“Goodbye, Samhyp, son of Zamhyp.”

The boy quickly left, before his mother brought him over to the section of trees which he needed to chop. “Have you chopped wood before?”

“I chopped stormwood and twilight wood, if that counts,” Adam said.

Zamhyp nodded her head, handing him an axe. “Cut them down near the base, we will collect them and process them.”

“Is there any special motion or anything?” Adam asked. “Stormwood was awkward and twilight wood was a pain.”

“No,” the Iyrman replied. “Take your time and do not injure yourself.”

“Thank you.”

Adam went about cutting down the trees. He still wasn’t used to cutting down wood, but he still managed to cut down a tree once every few minutes, averaging one a minute. Adam wiped his brow as he cut down his twentieth tree, taking a short while to catch his breath. There was something Zen about chopping down wood.

“I heard you wished to speak with me.”

Adam jumped, grabbing the axe tight as he turned, staring at the Iyrman before him. “What’s with you Iyrmen always scaring me?”

The Iyrman before him was an older man, with long hair which was dyed red, streaks of white breaking up the redness. He was clean shaven, with a strong jaw, a wide, flat nose, and small eyes. At his side was a longsword, made of a fusion of bone and metal.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Chief Iromin let go of the axe once Adam relaxed. “You should be aware of your surrounding at all times.”

“In the Iyr?” Adam asked.

Iromin bowed his head, relenting the point. “Elder Gold wishes to know what plans you have for the Tinkerer.”

Adam glanced past the Chief’s shoulder to the other Iyrmen, some of whom were taking a breather, and were looking at the pair. “We should talk. Alone.”

Iromin bowed his head again, before turning to lead Adam away. They made their way near the gate of the Iyr, though made his way into a tunnel, which wrapped around and went upwards on a light incline. After a few minutes of walking, they came across a courtyard, no larger than those of the family estates, though it was more like a garden, full of various flowers and herbs all around them.

The air around them was fresh, one which rejuvenated the Half Elf, the soreness of chopping wood seeding away from him. The tingling sensation he had felt before returning, and he felt the surge of magic through his body

The Chief took a spot on the grass before the wall of vines, and Adam sat opposite him. “If there are secrets to be told, they are to be told here.”

“I should have expected,” Adam said.

“Elder Zijin has stated that you are sure you are able to convince me to spend the Iyr’s resources on the Tinkerer.”

“Something like that.” Adam fell silent, wondering what he should say. “There are a lot of things I could tell you which could convince you, but… a lot of them are dangerous, and might have unintended consequences.”

‘So there are times when you can be sensible,’ the Chief thought.

Adam tapped his knee with a finger. “Give me a sec.”

The Chief remained silent. The silence continued to creep through the air as the trio remained silent. Adam. The Chief. Elder Story.

“Chief Iromin, you like stories, right?” Adam asked.

“Yes,” Iromin replied.

“Right, you are an Iyrman after all.” Adam chuckled. “How many stories are in the Iyr?”

“Over a million,” came the response.

“Right, so…” Adam sat up straighter. “Over a million?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” Adam raised his brows in surprise. “That’s a lot.”

“Yes.”

Adam tapped his knee once more. “That’s a lot of books.”

“Yes.”

Adam nodded his head. “Do you have a book on you?”

“I have a journal,” the Chief said.

“Can I hold it?”

Iromin reached into his pouch pocket and held out the book. “Do not open it.”

“I’ll try my best,” Adam said, holding the journal. It was about as big as his entire hand, and a finger’s width thick. “How many stories do you think you could fit into this book?”

“It depends on the length of the story.”

“Fair.” Adam chuckled. “Would you agree that a book like this is typically good for one story?”

“Yes.”

“How many books are in that library?” Adam asked.

“One hundred thousand.”

Adam smiled. “I once possessed something in my first life. It was slightly smaller than this, a little thinner too. Within it, I had access to a library. I had hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, of books.”

“You said there was no magic in your world,” the Chief accused.

“You’re right,” Adam replied. “I had access to a device which could hold that many books. It was something made by minds greater than my own. It could do so much, Chief. Right now, if I had that device, I could send a message to anyone else who possessed a similar device, even halfway across the world. Do you know how long it would take for someone to receive a message like that?”

“It would take a messenger months,” the Chief said. “If not years.”

“Pretend I’ve written a message on this,” Adam said, tickling the cover with his finger. “I’m going to send it. Ready?”

The Chief nodded.

Adam tapped the book. “They’ve received it.”

The Chief stared at Adam. “That quickly?” From his knowledge, only magic had such an ability. It was magic he was familiar with, for he had used it.

“Yes.”

“What else could it do?”

“It could calculate things in an instant. It could take a picture of you in an instant, and you could send that picture to your friend who lived in another land in an instant. I could press a button and it would call them.”

“Call them?”

“Yes,” Adam said, bringing the book to his leaf shaped ears. “Hello. What’s that? You’re thousands of miles away? Yeah, that’s no problem at all. I can chat with you for hours, days even, instantly, across the entire world.”

The Chief wondered if such a thing could truly exist.

Adam held out the book to the Chief. “It could tell the time. It could take videos, essentially moving pictures, and store them for you. It could do countless things, Chief. I could send a chef a message to make me food, and have them deliver it to me within an hour, all the while it would take coppers and silvers from my bank to send it to them automatically.”

The Chief remained silent. He knew how queer Adam was, and how creative he could be. He also knew that Adam did not lie to him.

“Chief. There were so many things in that world which revolutionised the way the average person lived. We had trains, essentially huge chariots, which could travel faster than a sparrow could fly. I could travel from here to Red Oak, in an hour, maybe two at most. I could go from South Fort to North Fort in a single day if I wanted to. There were planes too, essentially giant metal chariots which could fly across from North Fort to South Fort in maybe a couple of hours at most.”

Adam sighed. “I don’t want any of those things to exist in this world for now, but there are so many things, small things, which could be introduced. I don’t know how they work, not one bit, but I know that someone out there can figure it out.”

“The price for such things would be heavy,” the Chief said, recalling how much it cost to make such papers for the Iyrmen.

“How much is a loaf of bread?” Adam asked.

“One copper,” the Chief said, though no one paid for food in the Iyr. He assumed the Half Elf meant buying bread from a bakery.

“One copper. One copper for freshly baked bread, something so utterly delicious. So, using that as a base, how much would that device cost? One which could calculate things, call people from across the world, take pictures of you to send to your friend in Aswadia, among countless other things. Mind you, it costs some money to have access to being able to call people and sending people messages, usually.”

The Chief assumed it was cheaper than he was anticipating, but still, something like that would cost so much. The Third Gate spell, Sending, would require hundreds of gold from a Cleric if they were to spend the coin, and if it was a device, like a scroll, each one cost plenty of gold. The papers which they created cost hundreds upon hundreds of gold too.

“With such a device, you could call people endlessly?” the Chief asked.

“Yes.”

‘If Adam is going so far, it must be something far cheaper than I expect,’ the Chief thought. Taking everything he had heard into account, plus the ability to do more things than Adam mentioned, the older Iyrman thought of a price.

“Ten thousand gold?”

Ten thousand gold. To have access to the ability to infinitely speak with anyone across the entire world. To send them messages too, for them to view at their leisure. To make pictures of someone to hold indefinitely. To calculate, presumably with no ability to calculate oneself.

Adam smiled. “You know, Chief, if it cost that much, I’d pay for it. If I had that device, I’d be able to record Lanarot. The first time she crawled. The first time she’ll walk. Her first words. When I have my own children, I could record their milestones too. I’d be able to record all kinds of memories, from them learning magic, to them acting in one of the Iyr’s plays, if they’re allowed to.”

Adam’s smile faded. “I’d grow old one day, and I’d be able to pick up the device, and I’d be able to watch those memories. I’d be able to see them as they were in that moment. I’d be able to hear them as they were in that moment. Again and again and again. I’d spend ten thousand gold for that, Chief.”

“It is a heavy price to pay, even for a parent,” the Chief said. “Even if the Iyr holds vast wealth.”

Adam gazed past the Chief. “If I had access to that device, I’d be able to show you them. My parents. My siblings. My friends. You’d be able to see me too, not like this, a Half Elf, but a Human. A boy, a young man.” Adam sighed. “I’d be able to show you things you could never imagine, Chief. Cars. Trains. Planes. For something like that, which holds access to technologies you can only dream of, the knowledge of countless scholars of both the past and the present.”

Adam shook his head, thinking about how much it would change the entire world. “I never spent more than two gold coins on buying such a device.”

The Chief remained silent. ‘Two gold?’ Even if he knew Adam didn’t lie to him, it was hard to believe. A device which possessed the ability to communicate such long distances, infinitely.

Two gold.

“This stays between us, Chief,” Adam said. He had already introduced pizza to the Iyr, as well as the rickshaw, and the dumbbell.

The Chief stared up into Adam’s eyes, seeing that Adam was hesitant about his knowledge and introducing it to the Iyr.

Iromin had taken Adam’s side whenever he caused trouble. From the suspicious knowledge he possessed of the Iyr, to creating trouble with the axe he had designed to kill his grandfather, and even when Elder Gold informed the Chief of the deal they had struck, which went against the Iyrman’s ways. It was he who had convinced her to accept the deal.

It was to make sure that Adam would remain in the Iyr, because the Chief valued Adam’s abilities, and the way he had always spoken the truth. However, the Chief had always agreed with the other Great Elders, but it was only now that he truly understood.

Adam was dangerous.