The next morning, Arthur decided to make his own tea. He had walked away from Lup’s with plenty of expertly blended tea, and he brewed some of it now. This was primo stuff, he decided. It was much stronger than almost any of his own teas, but in a connoisseur’s way, one where every flavor mellowed every other flavor just enough to allow for that strength without it being overpowered.

And, given that Lup, who had named another blend Evening Petals, **labeled Arthur’s current blend as Stomach Punch, it was no surprise that it carried a big enough pep load to excite a Hing.

Arthur made it even stronger. He could already tell that it was going to be a long day. Suddenly, his doorknob turned. He hadn’t locked it and it swung open without so much of a knock of warning. Milo stood there, looking haggard.

“What happened to you?” Arthur asked as he went back to the tea and got it ready. “Weren’t you done with your stuff after the acid bath?”

“I was, but apparently Lily found a place where you can ride terrifying monsters. I wasn’t going to pass that up.”

“Was it good?”

“Oh, you have no idea. I rode a giant crab,” Milo explained. Crabs in the Demon World were unaltered for the most part. Arthur wasn’t a biologist, but now wondered if crabs might be just crabs everywhere. “There are like ten places you can ride on a crab. We had a whole crowd on it.”

Arthur realized that giant crab had a very different meaning to Milo if ten people could ride on it. “The monsters probably don’t like that.”

“The monsters, Arthur, like it fine. There’s a whole class that pacifies them apparently. It’s not useful for battle, so you don’t see them much. But they are gentle as giant, deadly, tamed crabs can be. Anyway, it was a lot of fun.” Milo looked at the tea, greedily. “Is that ready? I need it.”

“It is. Careful, though. It’s strong.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Milo poured himself a cup of tea, then took a sip. “Gods. I judge it strong. You win this one.”

“Thought I might need it,” Arthur said. “Lily, I see you out there. You can come in too.”

“Thanks. I think I could use some of that tea too. I was trying to figure out how to knock on an open door for almost a minute.”

“So the crab riding place is awesome then? I should go?”

“No, Arthur. Not your speed.” Milo shook his head and downed the rest of his tea before pouring another glass. “Tell him, Lily.”

“We talked about it. It’s too much. You’d get overstimulated,” Lily said. “We found something better for you, Arthur. The owner of the monster riding place told us about it.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” Arthur’s masculinity was not incredibly easy to challenge, but even he felt a bit slighted at the idea that he couldn’t enjoy the same crabs everyone else found so thrilling.

“You know how the capital has a lot of beasts for agriculture and stuff?” Lily asked. “There’s a bakery that raises the really little orphaned ones. They need people to pet them and feed them, and you get to eat cookies while you do it.”

“Gods.” Arthur could imagine something like that. And in trying to do so, he was defeated. “Fine. I’m not even going to try and argue with you. That doesn’t mean I agree to give up on riding monsters though. There can be two good things. I can do both.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Lily said sheepishly. “You’re going to get all worked up and liberate the monsters or something.”

It was possible. He wouldn’t do it on purpose, but there was Rumble and Daisy, two Pratas who were irrefutable proof that Arthur was a known wild card and such things were inside the realm of possibility. “How small are the animals? At least tell me that. I have to at least know what I’m trading for.”

Lily took a drink of overpepped tea, grimaced, then looked down at it respectfully. “That’s strong, Arthur. Really strong. Did you do something weird?”

“No, I met someone else who does weird stuff. We’re getting off subject. How little are the animals?” Arthur asked.

“He told me some of them need to be fed from a bottle, and that holding them helps them not miss their mothers,” Lily said.

Arthur might have wanted to keep arguing, but he wasn’t a monster. They were going to go to the expo and do their work, and then feed tiny beasts so they wouldn’t feel alone. That sounded like a pretty good day.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Okay, drink your tea,” Arthur said, nodding to Lily’s plans. “Our talk is early this morning. Milo, do you have a good idea of what you want to say?”

Milo wobbled his head a bit. “Kind of. I think I’m mostly going to push the angle of building a town from the ground up to work with machines. How that’s looked. But mostly I’m going to rely on people asking questions.”

“Good plan. There will be plenty of them.” Arthur found his shoes, laced them up, and stood. “Let's go, then. Philbin’s probably getting the room ready. I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Arthur led the group to the carts, which were fast losing their appeal for Lily. She still enjoyed them, but the little adrenaline owl acclimated to the new rides fast. The tamed monsters would probably hold her interest for a few nights, but the only super-stimulus she never tired of was either riding along on Karbo’s shoulder or getting thrown by him.

Arthur, on the other hand, was made very slightly sick by the speed. Not enough to really hurt him, but more than enough that he put off talking to his friends about the more serious things until after they had made it to the expo, checked in with Philbin, and were raiding the snacks on the table for enough calories to bridge the gap to their eventual late breakfast.

“So, guys. You know how sometimes I accidentally do something that I shouldn’t be able to do?” Arthur asked.

“No, Arthur.” Lily dumped a handful of cheese cubes into her mouth. “We’ve never met. This is the first time Milo and I have heard of you doing anything unusual.”

“I’ve always heard you referred to as Normal Arthur Teamaster, of Earth, who doesn’t fall into any weird situations at all.” Milo tossed some crackers back. “Good old boring Arthur. No madness to be had by hanging out with him, no sir.”

“Of course. Well, I might have messed up that pattern of normality a bit. I was talking to some other teamasters yesterday…”

Arthur gave them the rundown of what he knew.

“So you can store energy? And make your products work when you aren’t there?” Milo squinted at him. “That’s not a big deal really, right? I do basically the same thing with weapons. They work off what my majicka did to them, sometimes for years.”

“Yeah,” Lily agreed. “Not seeing the big deal here.”

“You didn’t really listen then.” Philbin was across the room, moving chairs. “Arthur isn’t making daggers and then giving them to people. That’s not how things work with his tea. What he’s doing is like sending the ability to blacksmith daggers yourself, by post.”

“Yeah,” Arthur said. “Which still wouldn’t be a big deal, necessarily. I might have to make medicine for people sometimes. The bigger deal is that it doesn’t seem to be part of any of my skills.”

Philbin truly understood what Arthur was saying first, and dropped a heavy chair on his foot. His yelp and little pained dance distracted Milo and Lily for a few seconds, but Arthur watched the implications of his words fully seep.

“That shouldn’t be possible, right?” Milo looked confused. “An alchemist can store majicka for future projects in pills, but that takes expensive ingredients. They’re limited. And they can’t just make pills that do anything a person needs them to do. It’s all very specific. If it were possible, they should have figured it out before.”

“Alchemists work off recipes, not intent. That’s what they told me.” Lily spent a lot of time helping with a lot of different classes in Coldbrook. That knowledge was coming in handy now. “I don’t know of any class that just sort of imagines effects like Arthur’s does.”

“Someone should have still messed with it at some point, right? People do experiments all the time. Sometimes for years.” Milo looked at Arthur apologetically. “You’re saying you stumbled on a new way of changing everything by accident?”

“That’s sort of how he is,” Lily said. “I mean, you’ve hung out with him.”

“Still. It’s not enough,” Milo said.

“I think both of you might be missing the point. Maybe because you know him so well.” Philbin limped over on his bruised foot and sat down. “Arthur’s an offworlder.”

“How does that matter?” Arthur asked. “I don’t think the system gave me a single weird power because of that.”

“Maybe not. But she wouldn’t have needed to.” Philbin took two crackers, an almond, and a raisin from the counter. “There are people who said The Bear was much stronger than anything the system ever made. I don’t know if that’s true, but… look. Say this cracker is Arthur’s world. And this one is ours. And the almond is Arthur.”

“He is a bit nutty,” Milo joked.

“Shh. We only have a minute before people start arriving.” Philbin moved the almond from one cracker to another. “Say Arthur comes here, and that’s all he does. Then the system just works with him in normal ways. She gives him skills, he progresses, and it’s all normal. But say he had cargo.”

“In the form of a raisin on the back of an almond?” Lily asked.

“The raisin is representative of potential. It’s one of the theories about why The Bear was what he was. He came from another world, apparently one at war. From what historians could gather, that war was waged under very odd circumstances. There were theories that he dragged some of the energy with him here, and the system had to figure out how to use it. And in his case, that meant creating the strongest demon there’s ever been.”

“You think Arthur is The Bear?” Milo asked.

“Not necessarily. Arthur, how was your life before you came here? Did you die in a massive explosion or something?” Philbin asked. “Sorry to pry.”

“No, I had a fairly normal life. Boring, even,” Arthur said.

“See? He wouldn’t have dragged as much fate with him. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t get any. He could have got just a small chunk of whatever energy his world uses to run. It wouldn’t be normal, but the system would still have to figure out how to use it.”

“Which is beside the point. Sorry, Philbin, but how this is happening isn’t the most important thing,” Arthur said. “The point is, I have to talk about all this in my teamaking talk in two days. And then, if what the other teamakers expect to happen actually happens, everything is going to get a bit crazy. So I’m warning you in advance.”

“Well, it’s appreciated.” Lily grinned. “Not that we can help but it gives us a chance to get front-row seats to the Arthur show.”

“And there’s our first guest. I saw them peek through the window.” Philbin stood. “Good luck with your talk, Arthur. And thanks for the heads-up.”

“You’re welcome. And Philbin?” Arthur asked. “Do you think all that stuff with potential is actually true?”

“No idea.” Philbin shrugged. “It’s one theory among many. It could be part of things, but maybe not. It wouldn’t be the first time I was very wrong.”