Dear Diary,

Okay, maybe I got a little too gleeful over Larry breaking his finger, but it's not like it stuck. He went down to the infirmary and came back with it bandaged up, but more or less functional. Sister Siobhan takes her duties seriously.

Anyhow, I left dinner early, telling the others I wanted to get to bed early. I felt a little bad lying to them, but if my plans went awry I didn't want them catching heat. Given all the wacky things I'd seen so far from Marshall duBois and Sister Siobhan, I figured reading somebody's mind or some kind of magical truth serum whammy was totally on the table as far as options went.

When I got to my room I changed into my old, nice panties and bra, then pulled on a clean uniform. I hid my books away in the bottom drawer in my armoire, then slipped out of my room just before dinner officially ended. As I caught the sounds of conversation from the direction of the Dining Hall, I heard the faintest 'click' from my door. I raced for the stairs, jumping down a flight at a time until I hit the basement. I wandered around down there for a bit, watching the maids go about their laundering. I didn't get quite as much of a standoffish vibe from them today as I had previously, but something started setting off my inner alarms. They'd been going off since I got down here, maybe longer, but I hadn't noticed while I tried to avoid the eyes of anyone who might yoink me back to my room.

After a little while the constant feeling of someone staring at the back of my head got on my nerves, so I wandered over to the kitchens. The maids there had thinned out to just a few washing the dishes; I wandered over and asked if they needed any help. They all stared at me unblinking for a minute before one of them whispered, "No."

I thought I'd gotten used to Marie, but at this point I figured she must have warmed up to me or something, because this batch still gave me the full on creepies. I said, "Okay then. The food is all great, if you guys aren't the cooks, please let them know I said so."

They just stared at me more until I turned and walked slowly out the door, hoping I didn't set off some kind of ingrained chase reflex. They definitely gave off predator vibes.

Safe in the hallway I listened, and after a minute the sounds of maids scrubbing trays filtered out from the kitchen again. I snuck up the steps, carefully listening for any footsteps other than my own. I didn't hear or see anyone, so I kept creeping upward. I snuck out at the floor with the Library's entrance, but I could see light around the door, so I went back to the stairs and kept going upward. I passed the floor with the entrance to the Practice Yard and kept going. The floor above that had rooms along the outside of the building, but too many of them had open doors with light pouring out for me to be safe exploring, so I kept going. The next floor had fewer rooms, but none of them had light coming out, even the ones with open doors, so I ghosted down the hall to see what the floor held.

Each door had a name and title on a little sign hanging from a hook. The first open one I found listed 'Archivist Auriemma'; exactly what I'd been looking for. While those alarm bells in the back of my head hadn't silenced since I left my room, they didn't get any worse when I stepped into a dead woman's room fully intent on getting some sleep. I left the door open and went through the outer room into her bedroom, carrying the chair from her desk with me. I opened the curtains on the bedroom windows and set the chair in the corner of the room opposite the windows, but on the same wall as the door, so I could easily see the sky outside, but no one walking in the hall or stepping into the outer room would see me.

I sat down, slouched until I wasn't too uncomfortable to rest, and closed my eyes.

***

Between the hard-as-fuck chair and the alarm bells ringing in my head, I don't think I got any actual sleep. On the other hand, I felt more-or-less rested when the sky outside the windows lightened to tell me dawn wasn't far away. I left the chair where it was, because any early risers might hear me moving it. I crept out of the room, walking on my toes to keep my boot heels from hitting the floor, but otherwise trying to walk like I was supposed to be here. I made it to the steps without incident, quickly and quietly walked down to the ground floor, and headed for the main entrance.

When I got there, the doors stood open, but two guards waited just inside the doors. I'd seen the same security theater at Eastside, armed guards checking to make sure students didn't bring weapons or other contraband into the school. The thought that a school with an armory would check students for hidden weapons confused me a little, but not enough to quiet the alarm bells. I walked straight for the doors, and one of the pair turned to me as I approached, squinting a little at my nametag before addressing me. "Good morning, Cadet Diaz. Headed out?"

"I've got some free time this morning, so I'm going to run some errands."

He nodded, pulling a clipboard on a cord from his waist and scribbling something down near the top of the page. "Whereabouts will you be going?"

I paused half a moment, trying to think of anything that might be vague enough to sound right. "Uh, South Street and the Italian Market."

He nodded at the first, then got a confused look at the second, "What kind of market?"

"Uh, the market down on South Ninth Street?" I said, desperately hoping there was such a market in this world.

"Oh." His look changed from one of confusion to a professional 'concerned' look as he jotted a few more things down on his clipboard. "Will you require an escort, Cadet?"

I shook my head, "No, I'm fine. Just doing some shopping for a few comfort foods, maybe some sleepwear that isn't made out of sandpaper."

He shot me a crooked grin at that last, working his shoulders the way somebody in an over starched uniform jacket is bound to when someone mentions uncomfortable clothes. "Very good, Cadet. Please return and let us know if you'll be going anywhere else, just in case we need to come find you."

"Will do." I said, heading for the door. Neither of them made a move to stop me, and a second later I was free.

The entrance of the school had a massive, multi-tiered stairway out to the street in front of it, which from the vantage point atop the steps looked like a huge loop around a park filled with statues, an amphitheater, and what looked to be some kind of homage to the Acropolis. This early, everything stood empty, with the exception of a few honest to god horse drawn carts making their way around to the back of the school. In the distance, a little to the left of directly in front of the school, I could just make out some lights on the spires of the Not-Ben-Franklin Bridge I'd seen the day I fought the dragon. Assuming things were sort of where they were back in Philly, I walked down the steps and cut straight through the park to the wide boulevard beyond. Walking along the grass in the middle of the boulevard, I passed a few more laden carts headed toward the school; one had a load of potatoes, and I caught a whiff of onions from another one. That tracked, what with the number of dorm rooms I'd seen; even if the dorm kids outnumbered the commuters, they still had close on a thousand student mouths to feed, and I hadn't seen anybody checking IDs or asking for student ID numbers to get food.

I ignored the few cross streets, going down a side street with the sun still down seemed a little stupid. As I approached the end of the boulevard I passed a school bus headed toward the Academy. Now, it didn't have the bright yellow and black paint, or a thundering diesel engine driving it, but the six wheeled behemoth of a carriage floating down the street pulled by four floating hunks of metal that looked like nothing so much as glowing suits of barding couldn't be anything else with its rows of windows, each offering a view to a couple bored, half asleep teenagers inside. The color scheme even matched the uniforms, Black wheels, glowing white undercarriage, and red side panels with a gray roof. At a guess, some variation of the uniform had a gray hat, not that I intended to wear one. I don't have a hat head. By the time I hit the end of the boulevard, the sun had officially risen, and the streets had people walking along the sidewalks.

Now, by this time I'm sure you've been staring at me, jaw dropped open, saying 'What the fuck, Tabitha? Are you trying for a double-Isekai, trying to get your ass yeeted into yet another world? To which I say 'any world I can't skip out on a day of prayer and fasting without getting waxed is one I don't want to be in'. Also, fuck you, I'd cut school plenty of times before that without Truck-Kun smacking me down. If I couldn't survive a single day on the streets of Phileo City, I wasn't fit to live.

So at any rate the street ended at another park with another wrap-around street, this time with a single easily recognizable building in the middle. It looked like Billy Penn founded Phileo City as well, or at least somebody old fashioned and fancy had a statue of him at the top of City Hall. At this point I finally discovered the name of the big street headed up to PCHA; High Artificer Franklin Boulevard. I went around City Hall and started zig-zagging down the smaller streets, weirded out by the familiar street names and unfamiliar architecture. Where I expected brick, most of the buildings had stone instead, typically big fucking slabs of the stuff where the bricks would be.

With every block I travelled, my inner alarms jangled just a little louder. By the time I hit South street, I scanned around myself constantly, looking for whoever or whatever had set me off. While the streets had a solid amount of foot traffic by this point, especially here at the East end of South Street, none of them looked like the kind of weirdo or threat that would harsh my calm like this. Plenty of weirdos, but all of them had that 'semi-professional South Street weirdo' look to them. A few threatening punkish sorts, at least two rocking full on tusks and fangs, but none of them threatening me. In fact, the one time my Westward wandering took me near a group like that, they shied away from me like I was a uniformed cop or something.

It took me longer than it should have to twig to exactly why they did that, but once I did I actually felt kinda bad. Not bad enough to leave or anything, but bad enough that I didn't bother trying to stare any other punks down like I normally would. I didn't have to prove my place in the pecking order; my uniform did that for me.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Just then every alarm bell I had peaked, then went silent. I spun, trying to see who had what weapon pointed at me, but the only person not doing their own thing was a single woman about two paces behind me. She wore a mustard-colored robe, a belt around her waist keeping it closed, but it still hung open enough I could tell she had nothing on beneath it, at least above the waist.

"What are you doing here, Tabitha Diaz?"

I shrugged, "Just walking. Who the fuck are you?"

She more or less ignored my question and instead responded, "You would risk the wrath of your Patron just to walk?"

I shook my head, turned away, and started walking; I really did want to walk, and standing there wasting time talking to a crazy person wasn't my idea of something worth playing hooky for. "I haven't got a patron, and I don't feel like spending the day locked in a box."

I didn't hear her move, but when she replied, it came from just beside me, "You claimed Diana as your patron."

It took everything I had not to take a swing at her appearing beside me, but instead I shrugged, shook my head in negation, and kept walking, hoping this madwoman would leave me alone. "I said I wanted Mondays off. Sister Siobhan was the one who wrote down Diana."

"So you claim another Patron?"

Good god this woman was dense. "No. I don't have a patron, like I said before. Now, if you're not going to fuck the hell off and leave me alone, who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you bothering me? Also, while I'm at it, how the fuck do you know my name?"

"Your lack of faith disturbs the Goddess, and so I am here to correct that. Your name is written on your uniform jacket."

"Yeah, no. My last name is, my first name isn't. How do you know my name?"

"The Goddess knows everything about those who claim her as Patron." I had no idea why, but something about what she'd just said didn't ring true.

"Everything, huh? Then why the fuck am I here?"

"Why are any of you here? To further the plans of the Gods, and to win Glory in their name." She said that with the kind of conviction people normally saved for gravity, death, and taxes.

I kept moving, even picking up the pace a bit as I got angrier. "So you don't know then. Good information to have. Thanks."

She smiled so hard I could feel it without even looking, "So you accept Her as your Patron then?"

"Her who?"

"Diana." When I didn't respond, she drew closer, uncomfortably close, and whispered, "Artemis" in my ear.

"I'm not sure. What do I get out of the deal?"

While her feet kept moving, she went silent and goggled like I'd just bitch slapped her. Eventually she came out of it to say, "You do not make demands of the Gods. You accept them as Patrons and offer them Devotion and Glory!"

"Right. So it's just a racket then; I do stuff for her and she just sits on her ass and accepts it. Not sounding like a great deal to me."

She had no right to look as offended as she did, "You do not make deals with the Gods!"

Again, something about her declaration seemed off to me. "Yeah, no, not if that's the best deal they're offering."

"Your Patron deserves your devotion and praise because they are a Goddess, not because they bribed you for them."

"I told you before, she's not my patron."

The crazy fundie chick stood right in front of me, facing me, blocking my path down the sidewalk. Her eyes burned when she said, "So, you would deny your Patron three times?"

"Pretty fuckin' sure I just did, shit for brains."

Some guy behind me made an appreciative audience; he laughed at least. Crazy mustard-robe chick, on the other hand, slapped me before I could react, then turned to someone behind me and said, "I disavow this one. She's all yours." Then she just flat up fucking disappeared.

I spun, tracking the sound of laughter. A dude stood there, just a touch taller than me, but skinny and slouched enough he felt shorter. He wore black leather with dark green trim, and I had to say he had the figure to pull off black leather pants. Otherwise he defined 'unremarkable'. "So. I hear you don't have a Patron?"

I rolled my eyes, turned, and walked away. Half a block later I turned left to head toward the Market; I'd wasted most of my sightseeing time on South Street arguing with mustard-chick. I took two steps down Ninth Street and stopped, staring at the guy I'd left behind half a block ago.

"What the fuck? Did duBois teach you that trick?" I asked as I walked past him.

He fell in next to me, walking half a step ahead, his gaze never leaving me. "Oh, no. In fact, I'm fairly certain if you trace it back from student to teacher, you'll eventually come to me."

"So you're some kind of mage then?"

He replied with a gallic shrug, "I've been called one, and I do dabble a little in mortal magics. When it comes to fine control, they're a lot less work to keep in check than deific intervention."

"Who the fuck are you?"

"You asked her the same question."

I stomped my way down the street, approaching the first of the food stalls which lined the street for at least the next few blocks. "She didn't answer either. Who the fuck was she?"

He grinned, "She's a local priestess of your denied Patron, although she was also being possessed by an angelic minion of self same denied Patron, who was in turn being possessed by Diana who was Artemis, she-Bear and Goddess of the Hunt."

Despite myself his explanation intrigued me, "So, assuming you're both correct and not lying, why the hell would she go through that whole Deific Matryoshka Doll thing just to talk to me?"

"Fair question, and good instincts to avoid taking me at my word. There is a Pact between Gods, that none of them should directly interfere in the affairs of mortals. As it was, she could do nothing to you that her priestess could not. Since I can tell you're about to ask, the angel was something of a divine circuit breaker; should she directly possess a mortal, it would more than likely burn the mortal's mind and soul to ash, leaving her nothing but a hollow shell after."

I nodded, "That kinda makes sense. I gotta learn more about how magic works."

He smirked at me, and I gotta admit, that kinda ground my gears. "Is that why you're cutting school?"

"No, I'm cutting school because instead of teaching me on Mondays, or giving me a day to chill, they lock me in a box expecting me to fast and pray or some bullshit like that." At some point I'd stopped walking to talk to this guy. We stood in front of a place selling a variety of fruits and vegetables, some I recognized, others I didn't.

The guy picked up a green apple, took a bite, and after swallowing, smirked at me again. "That sounds so awful, not eating and talking to gods." Then he started laughing.

I didn't get the joke. "Okay, I still want to know who the fuck you are and why you're following me."

"Was I following you? I remember walking and talking with you, but not stalking you the way the she-Bear did."

"Okay, what do you want from me?"

"Alphabetically, or in order of importance?" I just stared at him until he stopped chuckling and continued, "I suppose I want to know more about you. You're unusual, and not only is unusual more than a bit of a rarity, it's also usually a signifier that something is uniquely powerful. I enjoy conversing with you, although that might change should I become your Patron. That's the last thing; I want you to choose me as your Patron."

"So you're a god then?"

"Oh, a Patron need not be a God, although there are few beings worthy of being called a Patron who aren't. Even some mortals are Patrons, although I've rarely understood why someone would choose a Patron with the limitations of a mortal."

I stared at him until he turned enough to meet my eye. "Are you a god?"

"Yes."

"Finally, a straight fucking answer. Insane, but straight." I paused, considering something before asking. "Why was it so hard to get a straight answer out of you?"

He shrugged, "A God's word is literally their bond. Should they say a thing, their very nature forces them to make it true. The further from true it is, the more power they spend. If all they do is speak in speculative phrases, they're never really saying anything."

"So why are you giving me direct answers now?"

He smiled, "Because you're finally asking direct questions instead of leaving wiggle room; that also lets me be sure you can't misinterpret my statements. Also, I am of the very exclusive set of Gods who know how to lie."

"So why should I believe a thing you're saying?"

He nodded his approval. "Because the truth suits my interests, and because while lying is easier than changing the world to suit my words, it is not without cost, either."

"What about the whole 'Pact to not meddle'?"

He grinned at that and took another few bites out of his apple. "Not as healthy as Idunn's, but they certainly taste better."

Bits of trivia suddenly coalesced into knowledge, and my lips twisted into a smirk to match his. "So. You want to be my patron?"

"Yes."

"What do I get out of the deal?"

"To save you from asking for things I don't want to do, let's start with this; I will hear you when you call me by name, and will always respond."

"Not a bad start. Go on."

His eyebrows shot up, but the grin never left his face. "Since you complained about the waste of valuable learning time, I will meet with you on your Devotional days and teach you whatever it is you wish to learn."

I nodded, pursing my lips. "What if I ask you something you don't know, or can't tell me?"

"So perspicacious. Then the following Devotional day I will procure for you someone who both can and will provide you an answer. Enough?"

"Not yet. I really do want some down time, and Mondays seem like a great time for it."

"Oh ye of little faith. I'm not averse to mixing business with pleasure; we shall meet in comfort, and I shall provide whatever repast and entertainment you desire, so long as your desires are within my considerable means to acquire. Enough yet?"

"Not quite. I hate being locked up."

He nodded, his expression going serious, as if I'd said something profound. "No door shall bar your passage, no lock contain you, no bond constrain you, as it should be. Well?"

I paused, considering. "What do you expect from me in return?"

He grinned, grabbing another apple and tossing it to me. I caught it, but didn't bite yet, which only made him grin wider. "You will attend me on your Devotional days, no matter what other issues might weigh upon you. When you call upon the Divine, you will call upon me first and foremost. When you perform great deeds, whether you acknowledge it openly or not, you will do so for my greater Glory."

I frowned. "I dunno, that sounds an awful lot like giving you all the credit for shit that I'm gonna have to do."

He laughed outright, loud enough that it surprised me when no one seemed to notice or care. "Oh, you are precious indeed. So you will, in your heart of hearts, credit me with some of the Glory you earn as a Hero. I will, after all, be teaching you. Mentoring you even."

"Okay. Is there anything else you normally do for those do the patronage thing for you?"

His grin grew sly and he nodded as if to himself. "Oh, many things. To forestall more dickering, you will be granted all the rights, privileges, powers, and benefits I have given all those who have taken me as Patron."

"How long does this deal stand?"

"From the time you declare me your Patron until such time as you deny me. I warn you now, should you deny me I shall be most put out with you. I shall not stop you though; I despise bindings, as you might imagine."

"Okay, sounds good. I'm in." I held out my hand for him to shake.

"Say it clearly, Tabitha Diaz."

"Loki son of Laufey, Trickster and Teacher, Learned Liesmith, under the terms we have agreed to, I declare you my Patron."

***

We walked aimlessly down South Ninth Street, my new Patron tossing me raw fruits and veggies as we walked and talked. "So why did you jump like you'd been scalded when we shook hands?" I'd jumped myself, as touching his skin felt like sticking my finger in a light socket, only without the actual pain. I wasn't about to tell him that if he hadn't noticed though.

"It is customary for a Patron and their worshipper's spirits to mingle, to become alike. Usually that goes enormously in one direction; worshippers with an especially close tie to their Patron often take on some characteristics of their Patron. Ours are more alike than I'd guessed, although yours is odd. Something I've never personally felt before."

"Huh. So you're saying I'm naturally tricksy?" My stomach grumbled; fresh fruit and veg was fine, but I wanted something meatier.

He smiled at that. "You say that like either of us find it surprising."

"God, I wish I could have a cheese steak right now."

"Just a moment." He disappeared, and a moment later someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned, and there he stood, holding out a steaming bag that smelled of cheap beef and fake cheese.

As I tore into my cheese steak, I congratulated myself on absolutely finding the correct Patron for me.