Chapter 30: Out Comes a Man From Mars
Fourth Tower Year 4772, 4.4.2
The Republic of Mevitra,
Clearwater
“I’ve never been a fan of birthday parties,” Marc said flatly.
“Well, that’s all well and good, but no one is asking for your permission. After all, it’s not a party for you anyway,” Keri chided him, simultaneously stirring a pot while smacking the back of Marc’s hand that was reaching out toward a stack of teacakes that were cooling on the table.
“Ouch! I mean, huh?” Marc pulled back his hand, rubbing the injury theatrically.
“What did you do that merits celebration? You just popped out onto a towel, Your mother did all the work. Carried you around for six months. Your parents protected you from beasts and harm and provided you with food and shelter. All you did for those first couple of years was eat and shit.”
Kira jumped up on the table next to the stove and grabbed the ladle Keri was using to stir the pot, expertly grasping the handle with both of her paws, she kept up the motion that Keri had been stirring.
“Oh! Thank you, Kira! You are such a sweet little thing,” Keri left the soup to Kira and went over to check the oven. Then she stopped. Giving Marc a suspicious glare, she picked up the plate of cakes and moved them over to another surface by the window to cool.
“Keri, don’t be so tough on Marc. Where he is from, birthday celebrations are all about spoiling the kids. Buying them gifts and feeding them nothing but sweets,” Kir chimed in helpfully.
Marc still didn’t like the voice that Kira had chosen for her avatar. Her previous feminine voice was replaced with a high-pitched, nasal voice that made her sound like a precocious 7-year-old.
“Oh! That’s barbaric!” Keri exclaimed as she pulled out some freshly baked bread. The smell was wonderful.
“It’s a miracle you turned out as well-behaved as you did.”
“Well, that’s not exactly how things were in my house,” Marc added somberly.
“Oh, dear one,” Keri grabbed Marc into a hug. Marc recalled that the story Grenn had told his family was that Marc, family was killed when their convoy was ambushed by beasts while en-route to Clearwater. While some of the truth had come out over the years, this piece of his origin story seemed to have stuck.
“Well, not to worry. We shall make sure you have a proper birthday celebration. With all your family and friends here,” She said as she grabbed one of the tea cakes and shoved it into Marc’s mouth.
“And you too Kira. Thanks so much for sharing Marc’s birthday. He never talked about important things like this from before he came to Clearwater. You are such a helpful one.”
As with everywhere they had been since leaving Threshis, Kira was a star wherever she went.
Tamed Kobolds were a rarity, but Kira was unquestionably unique. She could speak and behave like a person. Marc knew that was just scratching the surface. Not only was she more intelligent than every supercomputer in his previous world, but this form that she had fabricated from exotic and rare materials was practically as indestructible as his own body. By integrating the natural catalyst, Kira could now control this avatar completely independently from Marc’s own power, giving his interface true independence. Well almost.
Through testing, they had determinted that if the avatar strayed too far away Kira started to lose connection to it. She said it was some kind of interference from the ambient Mana in the environment.
Kira had wasted no time asserting her new independence. While she maintained the appearance of an unusual, if not unprecedented, tamed familiar, Kira was making up for lost time by becoming the biggest gossip Marc had seen since coming to this world.
Marc knew that she often used Isabella’s catalyst to talk to Rynan, she now reveled in her ability to converse freely with anyone. Her usual collaborators now were Keri, Sateem, Hee-deh, and Meservi.
Marc had long ago given up on trying to keep track of her interactions. She now came and went as she liked. Still, he could always communicate freely with her through his mental interface. Her control over the avatar was, after all, simply a projection of her abilities.
The party was to take place today in the gathering space outside the housing units. That meant that the whole neighborhood would be stopping by. As the host, Marc was obligated to provide enough food for everyone who stopped by. In anticipation of of that, Marc had actually been back and forth to the garden in the Witch’s Den several times in the last week and his inventory already held a large amount of cooked meats, fruits, salads, and alcoholic beverages.
As was the tradition, the party would be a way for him to show his gratitude to all those who had nurtured and supported him over the years. He could kill Kira for selling him out.
《Stop complaining. I thought you came back to Clearwater to settle your debts.》
“I don’t know. For some reason, it feels like the longer I am here, the larger those debts seem to grow,” he replied silently to his companion, who was staring at the large pot, trying to determine how she could move it off the heat.
“Oh! Here, let me get that,” Keri chimed as she moved the large pot of the heating element.
《Oh boy, now things are going to get interesting.》
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
《Check your map.》
Marc pulled up his map and checked the surrounding area. His eyes bulged as he saw what Kira was referring to. Interesting was not the right word.
“Keri, I gotta go out for a minute.”
“Sure Marc, we’ll be moving everything outside in an hour, so be back in thirty minutes if you can,” Keri called back over her shoulder.
Marc pulled his jacket directly from his inventory and stepped out of the house. He walked down the stairs and across to the pathway leading out of the residential area towards the main city.
In the distance, he saw two figures, one, tall and thin, and the other short and hunched over, walking with a cane.
He rushed toward them, his eagerness betrayed by the speed of his steps. Within moments he stood before the pair.
Raising his fist to his shoulder, he bowed to the taller figure.
“Greetings and respect, teacher.”
Rynan smiled slyly.
“Oh! Has little Marc finally grown up into a man?” She eyed him with a skeptical glance.
“Well, maybe not yet.”
“Forgive this worthless student. I am unable to even show my age properly, despite your excellent example.”
Marc, still bowed over, smirked. He had been working on that retort for a while.
Rynan responded to the slight with a look of mock outrage. Then the pair started laughing. Marc rushed over and embraced his teacher in a big hug, which she happily returned.
“You are back early, I thought you were not planning to come back until next year,”
“I heard that my student was finally having his birthday celebration and I came to collect my due respect,” Rynan exclaimed.
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“Kira! That blabbermouth.”
“Well, that’s not all. I had to leave Sobric a bit ahead of schedule,” She nodded to the robed old man standing beside her.
“Let me introduce you. Greet your Elder Desciple, The scholar and former head librarian of the Tower archives of Sobric T’al Jerid, Lehdze Purina.”
The old man bowed deeply toward Marc.
“Greeting, I am simply Lehdze, no longer a librarian, nor a scholar. Simple Lehdze. I greet my fellow disciple of the Witch of the Void.”
“You cur! You know I hate that horrible title,” Rynan slapped the old man on the back of his head, causing him to stumble forward.
Marc stepped forward and caught him before he tumbled onto his face.
“This is Marc Churchill, your junior disciple, an Expert Smith, and an accomplished Dimensional magic wielder,” Rynan spoke formally.
Still holding onto the man, Marc froze at her words. He lifted his head and stared at her. He knew that this was the man she had been working with in Sobric for the past few years, but she never spoke of what she was working on. Now she had brazenly disclosed his identity in front an agent of the Tower. What was she thinking?
Rynan met his gaze with a dark look.
“We have much to discuss. But first, why don’t we meet the rest of the family?” Rynan’s sharp glare told Marc to let this go for now. He knew she would explain everything soon.
Helping the man gain his footing, Marc saluted him and bowed deeply.
“I am Marc,” He had nothing to add beyond his teacher’s introduction.
There was an odd look in the old man’s eyes as he stared into Marc’s face. A look of interest and sadness. The look of someone finding a long lost item, only to realize it was too late to make use of it. There was also a great sense of relief and exhaustion in his face.
Marc had joked about his teacher’s appearance, but it was true that she had some grey in her long black hair that was not present when she had left. She was indeed letting time affect her now that her “duty” had been fulfilled. Still, she looked like a woman in her prime standing beside her own grandfather.
How old this disciple of hers was, was still a mystery. He seemed ancient, yet he was still a child compared to Marc’s teacher who had lived hundreds of years.
“Come, you must be exhausted from your travels,” Marc offered, leading them towards the house.
As they approached the building, Marc saw Keri standing in front of the door. She was holding Kira in her arms, her children standing behind her. Obviously Kira had given them a warning of the impending arrival of new guests.
Keri and Rynan had never really gotten along as far as Marc knew. He wasn’t sure what had transpired in the past, but Keri never seemed to approve of her husband’s adopted mother.
Knowing that Marc shared a similar relationship with her, Keri never openly spoke poorly of Rynan in front of him. Still, he could feel the coolness in her voice whenever Marc mentioned her name, and he recalled the same mood when she had spoken to Grenn about his mother.
This was also the first time they had met since Grenn’s death. Marc remembered with shame the anger he had felt at his teacher because she had not been there. Still, he did not expect Keri to act as childishly as he had.
The people here were different. He had never seen Keri cry, even once, since the day after Grenn’s funeral. Some of his old belongings were put away in storage, others were given to neighbors and friends, and a few were still there in the house right now. Yet Keri and the children never mentioned it. They never cried over his memories or lamented his loss. They simply kept going on with their lives.
Kira explained that this was a stoicism that was born and reinforced for generations. You honor the dead by living. You fill the loneliness with friends and family, not memories that tie you to the past. Death was part of the world, and while unpleasant, natural.
Still, Marc did not know what to expect from the meeting of these two women.
Suddenly, Keri ran down the stairs. She embraced the tall woman and buried her face into Rynan’s chest. Rynan, for her part, did not seem the least bit surprised. She put her arms around the large woman and pulled her in close.
Marc heard Keri’s voice whimper weakly, “Mama~” over and over and he saw tears that had been held back since the night on the memorial hill.
Rynan sat down on one of the benches near the building and laid Keri’s head in her lap, stroking her as she would a small child.
Marc was shocked by this image of Keri, who ruled her household with an aura of absolute control, but now had the look of a young puppy, soaking up the affection of her mother-in-law like an endless sponge.
Marc set about arranging things for the party. As he placed plates of food and small barrels of drinks around, people started to gather. After sitting together for several minutes, Rynan and Keri walked over. Safan and Sateem ran over and were shocked to see their mother’s red eyes and wet face.
Rynan smiled and stood face to face with Keri, She leaned forward and touched their foreheads together for just a moment, and as she stood back up, Keri’s face had returned completely dry and with its usual healthy appearance.
“Grandmother?” Sateem asked cautiously.
“Yes, young one. Sateem, you have grown up so strong and beautiful! And little Safan! Well, not so little. You look so much like your father.”
Indeed, Safan now looked like he could be Marc’s older brother. Unlike his older sister, he had no memories of this Grandmother, but he knew who she was. The Witch from his childhood stories. He stared at her with wide eyes full of apprehension, but also wonder.
“Come, pay respects to your grandmother,” Keri ordered and the two children came over shyly.
Leaving the family some time to reconnect, Marc busied himself with the preparations. Kira zipped around as well, laying down plates, and cups, and even putting a plate of food together for the old scholar Ledze who was sitting and staring with amazement at the view of the fortress city below.
Soon more people gathered, Hee-ssu and Hee-deh, who had already established a smithy in the commercial district with the help of some of the other dwarves who lived in Clearwater, arrived. Hee-ssu stood with Marc discussing some of the challenges he was encountering with the new forge, while Hee-deh ran over and sat with Sateem and Kira. Enpii and Mumey showed up a bit later, carrying their little one. Enpii had wasted little time starting his family and as well-adjusted as he always seemed to be, Marc had never seen him happier.
Marc happily held the tiny child for a few moments and was immediately enchanted. Unable to resist, he opened up her status window.
NAME: BETH PERKANA-SEE
AGE: 1
BASE LEVEL: 1
RACE: HUMAN
STATUS: HEALTHY
Marc smiled at her name.
“You named her after Ba’eth?”
Marc knew that both Enpii and Mumay held the former Guild Head in high regard. The proper pronunciation of the name was closer to Beaz, but the local accent in Clearwater always made it come out more like Beth.
“Yes, hopefully someday she will be able to meet her namesake,” Enpii said hopefully.
Marc stared again at her name in the status window. Then he looked again at his friend’s status. In all the years he had known him, he hadn’t noticed the strange detail on Enpee’s name.
“Enpii, What is Perkana-See?” Marc asked.
“Huh?” Enpii looked genuinely confused.
“Perkana-See,” Marc repeated. “What does it mean?”
“No idea. What is it?”
Marc decided against sharing what he saw in the status window. Especially in front of Mumay, who was now a full-fledged Guild employee.
“Nevermind. So with a name like that, will she be following in her mother’s footsteps?”
“I hope so!” Bubbled Mumay. “As long as she takes after the former head instead of-“
“Instead of?” Boomed a voice and the color instantly drained from Mumay’s face.
“Guild head! But… I thought you were busy with the monthly filings?” She stammered.
“And miss the party? How could I possibly? Celebrations my boy! How many years is it now?” Meservi swept in and embraced Marc in a quick hug.
“Hmm. I guess, thirty?”
“What? A decennial? This small gathering? That won’t do at all! Back in Krrt Anatra, a decennial is a week-long affair. These humans, always so reserved when it comes to celebrations. Here Marc! we must get the real party started!”
From his dimensional storage pocket in his cloak, Meservi pulled a fancy long-necked bottle and handed it to Marc.
Here! Let’s toast!
Marc examined the bottle, and with a chuckle, turned it upside down.
A few lonely drops of liquid fell to the ground.
Meservi frowned, then just as quickly brightened up.
“Oh! One moment.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled a second, identical bottle out, this one, with a stopper in the mouth.
Safan walked over carrying a large object wrapped in a dark purple fabric. Marc smiled as he saw the familiar bundle.
“Brother Marc, do you think…” The shy boy avoided looking at the people gathered around Marc, but instead pushed the object towards Marc.
“Why don’t you give it a try? You have been practicing haven’t you?”
Horror filled the young boy’s face as he violently shook his head.
“No, no, no! I’m not good yet. Please Brother Marc?”
“Why don’t we try something together? Do you remember the chords for Stairway?”
Smiling, the boy nodded enthusiastically.
They sat next to each other on a bench and Safan unwrapped his guitar, a gift from Marc that he brought back from Threshis.
Marc pulled out his own instrument. The same one that he had played after Grenn’s funeral.
Safan strummed the basic chords as Marc fingered the notes to a song that drew in the gathered people. Soon they were playing requests, and many of the attendees joined in to sing along.
After half an hour of playing, Marc took a rest and went to check on the food. He had made enough for an army, but already he was worried there might not be enough. When he came back, the old Sobric scholar was talking to Safan, examining the guitar.
“You made this?” He asked in a tired, but interested voice.
“Yes, it’s from my homeland.”
“The strings?” The man seemed split between skepticism and amazement.
Marc smiled.
“Those are my own creation. I wanted to see if Mythril could be used like this. Turns out it’s the perfect material.”
“Truly an Expert Smith, Maybe worthy of a Master. Do you mind?” The old man looked at Safan, who handed the guitar over.
Examining it closely, he strummed the strings, listening closely to the clean notes as they played through the air. Then he fingered a few notes, mimicking the movements that Safan and Marc had displayed before.
Crisp and sharp sounds emanated and drew a few looks from curious onlookers.
Hunching over the guitar, the ancient man quickly played out a few scales, then switched the key and played another set.
Marc’s eyes shot open and the notes sped up and oscillated through new patterns and structures. Safan was beaming as he watched the display.
As people gathered, the finger movements sped up and the patterns got louder and more elaborate.
Sateem was swinging Kira around and dancing to the rhythm of the unexpected music. Cheers of approval echoed from the crowd and Marc stood there dumbfounded.
He looked over to Safan who was now on his feet. Marc mouthed three words which caused the boy strum his arms to mimic playing his instrument in a perfect air guitar.
“Rock and Roll!”