Progress

Chapter 62

While pondering how to approach the farm and its possible redesign, I assessed my dungeon layout. If I wasn't horribly off the mark, I had a reasonable level of defenses in place to stop a low-level hero party. I did some looking in my encyclopedia to try and make sure I wasn't too far off the mark about that.

When it didn't offer much in the way of helpful advice, I tried my manual. Thus far, it hadn't been too useful the few times I skimmed it. I did a bit of a rushed job on my everyday work and decided to read it thoroughly.

I knew on a certain level that it was something I should have done already. The only issue was that it honestly had been annoying. The text wasn't well composed, the topics out of order, and the font on the eye-gouging side.

It only took a few minutes to find something weird. The table of contents hadn't changed, but the interior sections were longer and featured out-of-order entries. Some of them related to the chapter's content. Others did not. There was still no index, and I felt a powerful desire to redo the layout.

[Edit text? Y / N ]

I hit yes and found myself in a pdf style editor. My first move was to unify the font into something soothing. I gave a sigh of relief as my task suddenly felt much more doable.

I made sure to save my progress at that moment. Saving often saved sanity in the event of data loss. Not that I was sure how that would even work in this case. Despite that, I used it since it was an option. Thinking too hard about the system was just asking for a stress headache.

Editing a book was not a fast process. The most straightforward bit was finding the out-of-place blocks of text. I copy-pasted them into their own chapter that I titled it "WTF?". I didn't need to try and be clever since it would be for my eyes only.

A knock on my chamber's door broke me out of my project. I went to the antechamber and found Henry waiting, which perked me up. He was the skeleton I enjoyed spending time with the most, though Dawn was a close second. Chris was the one I spent the most time with, but that was more of keeping an eye on an annoying kid brother than friendship.

"Hey, come on in," I said, gesturing for Henry to enter.

"Thank you, Mi-Mistress," Henry said and gave one of his customary bows.

"You can just call me 42," I offered. Henry straightened up quickly, looking startled.

"Unless you don't want to," I added. I hadn't given it much thought, but the suggestions might have been overly familiar. Like architecture and holidays, there could be a lot of differences between what was normal for me and what was typical for Henry.

"I-I'd be h-hon-honored," Henry said quickly, stumbling over his words. I nodded in acceptance instead of questioning if he was really okay with it. If he wasn't then, he'd probably keep calling me mistress, and I'd just not bring it up again.

"You came at an interesting moment. Care to test out one of my experiments?" I asked, feeling mischievous. Henry seemed wrongfooted for a moment, then nodded. I gestured toward the couch that now replaced the stone bench that had formerly stood in my chamber of machinations.

Elim had come across some small samples of naturally fire-resistant monster materials in the fiefs market, and I'd refined them to the point where they could withstand the hounds. My plans to make legitimate furniture despite not being able to feel any of it were back on track. Henry obliged, sitting and sinking slightly into the squishy cushions.

"I'm n-not sure what to-to say… It's more f-f-for...form-fitting a seat, b-but I can't feel it," Henry said after a few moments of shuffling. I felt my orbs flicker then smacked a hand to my face. The skeletons had more of a tactile sense than I did, but not a lot.

"Right, this is a fish bicycle kind of thing," I said, feeling like an idiot. The hounds liked it plenty, but I'd made them big pillow beds already. They also wouldn't care what I made my furniture out of so long as they could clamber all over it.

"Bi-Bicycle?" Henry asked, tilting his head.

"It's a kind of…." I paused. There wasn't an easy way to explain one, at least the visual aspect anyway. So instead, I drew one, and a person using it then showed Henry the picture.

"It's a simple machine to get places more quickly than walking. The saying means to make something useful but not for the person in question," I explained. Henry nodded, but he was still looking at my drawing as if trying to figure something out.

"Did you have a question?" I asked.

"Could I have a c-copy of this? I find the m-mechanism interesting," Henry said. I was a little surprised but nodded. I added a larger, more detailed drawing of the gear and chain then and copied it onto paper.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

It was a pretty good technical drawing technique-wise. That I only had a cursory knowledge of what everything should look like would be evident to someone from my own world. I kept that to myself.

"So, uhm… Did you want to hang out, or is the visit because of work?" I asked, trying to get us back on some kind of track.

"I've forgotten," Henry said, sounding embarrassed. I'd have smiled if I had a mouth.

"Hanging out it is," I chirped. I offered Henry a chaos beverage then sat opposite him on the couch. That was when the fact that my chamber of machinations wasn't really great for having guests unprepared to entertain themselves occurred to me.

Chris usually brought a book or annoyed me to supply himself with fun while I tried to work. Conversely, Henry wasn't rude, and it behooved me to either make small talk or provide an activity. A simple task for someone who wasn't me.

I could bend reality to my will within my domain, summon terrifying monsters, and fill adventures with dread but I sat still, completely flummoxed by simple social interaction.

I wasn't the best in that department but drawing an utter blank was new. Especially since I usually got along with and enjoyed talking to Henry. That we were generally in the company of at least a few other members of the bone brigade occurred to me, but it shouldn't have mattered. Us being alone didn't change anything, or at least it shouldn't have.

Thankfully Henry took out an embroidery hoop from his hip pouch and started working on a project. It was a neat combination of thread and beadwork on a fine net I'd refined.

Though Henry was entertaining himself it felt like a total cop-out to not even try talking. and I ransacked my brain for a topic. I was going to say something, come hell or high water.

"You know, where I'm from, they have a technique for that using a special kind of needle. It's called Tambour, I think," I said. I could vaguely recall how it worked though I doubted I'd had much personal experience with it. Not going by the amount of knowledge I had about it anyway. That I'd managed to say almost nothing despite the number of words I'd uttered filled me with self-loathing.

"Care t-to sh-show me?" Henry inquired. I nodded, then realized what I'd done. I was not prepared for a demonstration on any level. Despite that, I immediately kit bashed a set of the special needles. They had a hook instead of an enclosed eye and ended in handles.

The technique worked by poking through the fabric, catching the thread, and pulling a loop up through the last loop. Not wanting to ruin Henry's work, I also summoned a new embroidery hoop and other supplies.

My suspicion about my knowledge was on point. I made a mess several times before getting anything going. So, either Henry was exceptionally patient or good at hiding his annoyance.

Despite knowing I was flailing in front of an actual artisan of the craft, I kept trying. For reasons I couldn't articulate, even with a gun to my head, I couldn't give up.

The end result was garbage, but I had a line of uneven stitches and a couple of beads sewn on before long. Then, and only then, was I able to stop. I basically threw the supplies to Henry like they were burning my hands.

"Uh… I definitely wasn't a fashion major," I muttered, looking at the mess I'd made. I fully expected Henry to tell me A for effort and file this incident under: And we shall never speak of this again.

Henry hesitated, clearly surprised, then nodded. With care, he straightened the supplies out and tightened the fabric on the hoop without looking at me. Once he was satisfied with everything, he took up the needle.

I didn't watch as Henry got started. My embarrassment had deepened substantially at how gracefully he held the needle by comparison. It wasn't like I prided myself on sewing skills, but I felt like I'd made a total ass of myself for essentially no reason.

Getting back to my project, it wasn't long before I was done organizing things. I could have done a speed run and re-read the manual, but my focus was shaken. So instead of forcing the matter, I put it on hold and went to the next item on my ever-growing to do.

Since I was nearing a point where I felt comfortable with trying to lure in some low-level adventures. It was time I sent out some invitations. Hand-made ones because I was a classy dungeon core.

I took some parchment and quickly made a low detail copy of the local area onto it. Next, I added a blush of color by lowering the opacity on a layer of ink. The cherry on top was a classic red X at the back of the valley where the dungeon would appear to begin.

[Hi Elim,

If you don't mind, try sending some low-level adventurers my way. Some around your level or lower, please. Not looking for paragons of virtue, but not outright evil if possible. Including a small light magic stone to use if you need to sell them that there is loot to be had. If you can't find anyone or it's inconvenient, don't worry about it.

-42]

I sent the message then felt myself go rigid as I realized what I'd done. I'd just casually asked Elim to send people to their deaths. Shit. That was definitely not how I should have phrased it.

"Something w-wrong, 42?" Henry asked. I realized that I'd sat up rather abruptly in surprise.

"Not wrong, but I just asked Elim to do something… I could have worded it better," I said, not wanting to explain even as I did. I split the difference and did it poorly instead.

"What d-did you s-say, if I m-may know?" Henry asked. Instead of repeating the message, I just showed him.

"Y-You have a… unique s-style of w-writing," Henry commented dryly. I wondered if that was a dig at my diction or the font. It was an approximation of my handwriting which meant it was more orderly but only just shy of illegible.

"I d-doubt h-he'll take o-offense. You a-allowed him to choose if if he w-will or not," Henry added.

"Just saying…" I said, scrubbing my hair or at least running my hand through it. What the misty mass was doing at any given time was a bit of a mystery. I didn't bother with a mirror, so I had little idea what it looked like unless it drifted in front of my face.

Trying to avoid eye contact, I found myself accidentally looking at the embroidery hoop Henry was holding. He'd filled in a surprising amount of it.

"You've been busy," I said in surprise.

"It's a lovely method," Henry said appreciatively. I got the distinct impression he'd have been smiling if he had the soft tissue to form one.

"You did that with what I showed you?" I asked in genuine surprise. I looked down at Henry's work next to mine then back up at him. If he'd figured out how to use it so fluidly from my piss poor example, then it was a Christmas miracle.

Henry chuckled then started embroidering again. He laid down a careful line of stitches at about half his average speed. After letting me see that, he picked up his pace.

Henry was fast even when he had to pull the thread all the way through. With this technique, he was going like a sewing machine. Even when he added beads, he was still far faster than I'd ever have expected.

"Oh…" I said, at a loss for actual words.

"As I said, it's lovely," Henry said with a laugh.

"I hope you'll show me whatever you make with it," I said, genuinely curious. I liked the things he made and wanted to see what Henry could do with the technique.

"A-as you w-wish," Henry said, then flinched. I laughed and gave him a pat on the shoulder. He'd been doing pretty well in avoiding that phrase up till now.

That was when I realized that my tail had been misbehaving and tangled with Henry's legs. Fuck. Since when did that happen?