I stared at the stack of completed forms, opened letters, drafted responses, and crumpled advertisements. My reading aptitude had many perks, blowing through documents when necessary, but it often left me with nothing left to use as an excuse to procrastinate. Thus, I was out of time. A tough call awaited me, and the number had been left on my desk. No more slackin' off.

“... Hello? Hey, Snowball. … Yeah, readin’ ya loud and clear. … Oh? Well, I guess you haven’t melted yet. Hubby’s over there working more miracles. What does he have you doing? … Really? That’ll work? … Ah, I see, most theoretically efficient path first, gotcha. I’m sure the list of potential arguments is reeeeaaaaally long, but at least you have representation.”

“Listen, I’d love to chew the fat, but I have a thing in like, 20-30 minutes, so let’s get down to brassblood tacks. … Yup, first test run on the drone. … Yeah, it was really effective. A bit, umm, impersonal? I’d say dehumanizing, but I didn’t use it on humans so… I dunno the word. I’ll write a report on it for you later, but that’s not the issue. … Yeah, buckle up.”

I took a deep breath. “It was a job for a villain. I… tried to keep the usage under wraps, but they were extremely attentive. … No, I didn’t use it in front of them or any minions, they puzzled it out from contextual clues… err, she puzzled it out, I should say. … She really didn’t like the idea of the drones. … Umm, well… it was…”

“Madame Gossamer.”

A shrill cry caused me to move the stone away from my ear before cautiously returning it. “It’s okay! It’s not as bad as it could be. She was upset but… … Ohmygod let me explain myself. … Look, she asked me to test it on her. … It fucking worked, okay? … Yeah, yeah! A level-fuck-you superboss and it basically invalidated her existence. It’s not fucking okay, you need to bury the original crystal schematics and switch to the cheaper ones pronto.”

“No, fortunately not. Nobody should be hunting you. However, she promised that if she sees anyone in possession of a drone with similar capabilities, she will relentlessly hunt you down and capture you, your family, all business associates, and any buyers for summary execution by slow torture.”

“... Hey, that’s pretty good as she goes! You didn’t lend out any other prototypes yet, right? … Well, that sounds pretty easy to ask back. I’d get on that… Yup. … Oh, before you go, she also broke mine, how can I send it to you for repairs? … Yeah, basically tore it apart. The main crystal is intact, though. There are some gouges in the metal that you should leave alone, since they’re how she can tell it’s mine, and therefore whether she needs to come after you. … Thanks, and the shipping? … Really? … Okay, I’ll figure something out, then. Get that set up when you have the time, please.”

“Yeah… I’m sorry about it, I really am. It shouldn’t have gotten out so quickly, but that’s what happened and we’ll have to roll with the punches. … I don’t know why you didn’t see it coming either. You lent the god-tier item to a GC and thought nothing would happen? All intelligence, no wisdom. … Sorry, bit rude to say. … No, stop agreeing with me! Self-deprecation is my job. You can’t afford to get depressed while knee-deep in a celestial legal battle.”

“It takes a great mind to change the world, girl. But you can’t do it with just that. You have to have the willpower to push past all who deny the change. You cannot fight them, but you must convince them to change themselves, and that is a far greater undertaking. … I’ll let you in on a secret, Coppernose. Most people who’ve changed the world… didn’t think they could either. But when they stopped and looked back… they could barely recognize the world they left behind.”

“That, or they didn’t live long enough to see the changes they set in motion. … Heh, you thought it was all a pure pep-talk? Nah, watch your ass, or it’ll be grass. If one of every thousand people takes up arms to stop the change you bring, that’s an army. Don’t be found, don’t make too much noise, and bide your time. There will be an opportune moment, a chance to seize the future. You’ve had one already: It put guns and drones in your hands. Don’t push your luck again until the time is right.

“You’re welcome, I guess. … You work on fixing my drone, and I’ll see about getting my presence in your life back to a net positive. … Yup. Farewell, Snowball, and good luck.”

I clicked the stones together and sighed. It could’ve been an hour-long call, so the brevity was appreciated. I glanced out the window to see the sun setting, so I got up from my chair and nabbed the stack of mail I needed to send off. I ducked out of my office and shut the door behind me. Cam was at his desk, dutifully going over the wyvern hunt forms. I deposited my own papers into the outgoing mail crate, then wandered over to him.

“How’s the reading?”

He barely raised his head. “Slow. Lots of agreements, non-disclosures… I haven’t even gotten to the insurance section. When will it say what these ‘special armaments’ are?”

“Nowhere. They’re top-secret. Instruction manuals do come bundled with them, though. I’ll help you learn the ropes when they arrive.” He nodded along and continued reading. “Think you’ll have ‘em done by tomorrow afternoon?”

“Uhh, yeah, I can finish these off before lunch tomorrow.”

I clapped my hands together and looked around, seeing a general lack of buzz in the office. “Great. Consider yourself off for the day. Go get some chow in you. See you tomorrow.”

……

I hung my fall jacket on the coat hook in the hall, then wandered into the kitchen to see Matti browsing a cookbook. “Feeling spicy today?” I asked, taking a seat at the table.

She looked over from the little lectern on the counter. “I was thinking of trying a fruit pie, though I am struck with indecision as to which fruit.”

I tapped my chin. “Apple is always a good pick, and maybe a cobbler? It’s faster to make.”

“But then I can’t weave the crust,” she whined quietly. Matti shook her head. “But that is my conundrum. Have you anything less dull than pies to share?”

“Okay, first of all, how dare you? As an asexual, pies—other than cream—are the source of at least 8% of the satisfaction I get in this miserable existence. Secondly, yes. I’ve signed Cam and myself up for a wyvern hunt.”

She flipped to another page after a long pause. “Wyverns? Pray tell, how does one go about hunting the silent thunders of the skies? A beast so dominant, yet so skittish that it could grow to end all civilization, but is never glimpsed by the common eye?”

My chair creaked as I leaned back in it. “With tools outlawed by the gods themselves, and a permission slip to wield them,” I answered smugly.

Matti’s attention fell from the book completely. “... Can I come?”

“Umm…”

……

“Uh-huh, yup. … She does meet those requirements, I think. I’ll double-check. … That’s the only option, I presume? … Oh, well, that’s not much of an alternative… thanks, can you fax the form to me? It’ll be at… oh, you still have me on file? Fantastic. Thanks for the help. I’ll let you… huh? Yeah, Lawson… no, no, I’m not at liberty to discuss that. What you got in the mail is what you can have for the foreseeable future. Please pass that up the chain. … Thanks, goodbye.”

I hung up the stones with a veiled scowl on my face. Matti looked over. “No answer?” she asked with a mild case of puppy-dog eyes.

“No, they picked up. The forms are on their way over now,” I responded, kicking my feet up on the other chair at the table.

Her face twisted in confusion. “But… you didn’t say anything. Your lips were entirely still! Not a single sound emanated from the stones!” she spouted indignantly.

“Yup, that’s the security measures when you call Triple-B. Anyway, there were some stringent requirements, so you’ll have to look it over carefully. The sticky one being membership to a major organization, like the League.”

Matti briefly looked to the side. “Not a problem.”

……

You know that feeling when—deep down—it’s 100% clear that you’re doing something stupid? That little ache, that tiny knot in your gut, urging you to reconsider… how often do you ignore it? I try not to; which usually works out. And I had that feeling as I carried a sealed E-D sack toward the wood line just outside town. They always say not to feed the trolls, but occasionally, it seems like the easiest solution… at the time.

“I know you’re in there,” I announced to the nearest tree. “It’s not a trap… this time.”

No response. “Come oooon. You’re too consistent not to be in there. Show your face at least.”

“… No. Someone will tackle me, or something. You’re never alone,” a voice whined from within the bark.

I concealed a smirk. “Learned you can’t touch the merchandise, eh? Well, it’s your lucky day! I’ve come to ask you a little favor.”

A wooden head with mossy hair peeked around the trunk. “Y– you have?”

“Suuuure, why not? I was just wondering if you would be so kind as to take this to Coppernose,” I explained, holding out the sack.

A glint of excitement danced across Auseta’s face, but she controlled it, attempting to be measured. I could see the gears turning in her head. “Okayyy… but I waaaant…” she trailed off, causing me to purse my lips. “A kiss!” she decided giddily.

Rather than sigh or roll my eyes, I decided to try and haggle her down. “I’ll do a peck on the cheek.”

“Done!”

Or that could happen.

I beckoned her over, and she accepted, dropping her guard. I sure as heck wasn’t gonna risk getting yanked into a tree. That was the day I learned that dryads could blush, seeing the veneer of her cheeks lighten a few shades to a more oaky tone. Auseta leaned in with her cheek turned, her eyes shut, and her hands together behind her back. Since she wasn’t looking, I took the chance to shake my head disapprovingly before planting (heh) a real bargain-bin smacker right where I said I would.

She swooned. Not the lost consciousness level of swooning, but more the overdramatic type. It wasn’t even a droplet of affection, more like a frigging atom, and she acts like I just rolled up in a Maserati to proclaim I had cured her mother’s terminal cancer and was going to drive us to the Grand Canyon for an open-air sunset wine-and-dine where I intended to propose whilst we're waited on hand and foot. Average yandere.

I wondered what the consequences would be of egging Auseta on. While at the same time, I was happy to get my shiny toy express shipped for warranty service (god, that sentence makes me feel old). She disappeared into the tree and I nodded, satisfied that I no longer had a hand in making things worse for myself, at least for the time being. I looked up at the early morning sky and enjoyed the birdsong for a moment. It had been a while since I let my guard down around trees. Then, I turned around and walked away.

“Okay, I did it!” Auseta cried proudly from her tree.

“AHH! Jesus Christ!” I yelped, having forgotten the light-speed dryads for a moment too long.

“Who?” she asked with a cocked head.

“Umm… nobody important. Gottagobye!”

……

Well, that was that. My package was delivered, and Matti had signed herself up for the hunt by the time I got back. Leery as she was over the curse-enforced NDA, she overcame it for the chance to get her hands on these verboten weapons. Cam handed in his application the following afternoon, right after a local ratting op. I got those in the mail right away. Not faxed since oFfiCiAl ChaNnEls. Even in a fantasy land, I still have to rely on bloody snail mail. Whatever, NEXT… day? When was the next interesting occurrence? Uhhhhhhhhh…

Five days later? Five days later.

…[Five Days Later]…

'Twas well past closing (and shortly after sunset). I was staying behind and helping Pokle catch up on paperwork whilst I waited. I was impressed. Despite my minimal participation on that front, she had been working through about 80% of the workload solo, which is nothing to scoff at for a ‘50/50’ work-split. Things were really lining up for her, whether she saw it or not. I did feel a little bad for her, dropping such a burden on her plate, but it was very valuable data, and one can’t say I don’t reward hard work.

Granted, offering 2 days of reduced workload ‘so long as nothing comes up’ is pretty crap, but you have to wean workaholics onto relaxation. For god’s sake, she goes home at 2am and comes back with fresh-baked honey-butter rolls the next day. The girl’s an animal.

“How long are you going to wait for him?” Pokle asked, donning her jacket.

I shrugged, glancing out the window. “Dunno… a while?”

She sneered subtly. “Do as you will. At this point, I’d leave a note on the door and head home. This late in the day, anyone reasonable should get a room and try again tomorrow.”

“Unfortunately for all of sapience, reasonability is subjective. That and…” I started, sighting a hooded figure that likely learned the idea of ‘discreet’ from a penny dreadful.

I put the thought on hold and headed out the door. Said hooded fellow eagerly approached as I crossed my arms. Pokle followed slightly behind me as I resumed my thought. “A wizard is never late. Nor is he early.”

The figure raised his head, revealing a wrinkled face and a white mustache and beard faintly visible under the facial wraps that screamed ‘I’M SUSPICIOUS’. “I do not appreciate your sarcastic derision. I meant to be here 2 hours ago, but I became lost. So, as you can see, I have not arrived ‘precisely as I meant to’, per your infernal quote.”

My head bobbed up and down in what could be mistaken for a nod. “That’s a lot of words where a simple ‘hi’ would’ve sufficed.”

He shook his head and sighed earnestly, then took a breath and tried to control himself. “Fine. Hello, I am Master Lorius Xellurm. I have come—at your invitation—to discuss a research opportunity of great interest to me. Where and when would you like to discuss this further?”

“Now is fine, and since I’ve been putting off dinner, it’ll be over food. I know a place, so follow me.” I turned to Pokle for a moment. “I’ve got this. You have a good night.”

She nodded and headed off, so I went to join Lorius in the stroll toward the chicken place. “How did you have trouble finding my place with that?” I asked, gesturing to the big-ass glowing golden exclamation point hanging conspicuously on the building.

Lorius was silent for a moment. “I will utilize a privacy spell, so we can converse en-route,” he answered… without addressing my question for obvious reasons.

……

Well, we sat down and I ordered wings. He said he wasn’t hungry, I didn’t believe him for a second because wizards and teenage girls are remarkably similar in behavior… so I got him a plate of fried chicken, which he insisted was far below his refined tastes. In unrelated news, I looked up from my food to see a cleaned plate, which makes for quite a mystery…

That was about the only interesting or amusing thing that happened there. The rest was hashing out dull details, boundaries, and me convincing him to sign an agreement pertaining to his privileges and treatments of Pyroshir, and the exchanged services of dispelling. He really didn’t want to sign it, but I had him by the wrinkly (AND HIGHLY METAPHORICAL) balls. He didn’t sign everything, but he agreed to enough that the meet-and-greet could go down.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

I’ll be honest, he’s a pretty dry conversationalist when not indignant, or rabidly interested in something, so I think I’ll just skip the details, m’kay? It was boring anyway, and why bother explaining the monotonous planning when I could just skip to said plan taking effect?

……

Down the street we marched. Well, I did, since I have actual leg muscles from… you know, not spending all day sitting around motor boating old books like they’re the thiccest tiddies in the world. Perhaps a tad judgmental and presumptive of me to say, but Lorius also (wrongly) assumed I was uneducated and incapable of legalese, so a little ‘fuck you’ is warranted in my opinion. I’m just uneducated, so take that! Oh, right, I meant to say that he really does walk like an old man.

As for the actual going places to do things, I was in the middle of refusing to elaborate on how exactly I acquired such a creature when we made the turn onto my street.

“Again, I am only comfortable disclosing that it was as payment for services rendered. You can puzzle out that whoever paid was a big wig, but I won’t say who, got it?”

He raised his hands, conceding to me with a tilt of the head. “Very well. While I do prefer to know the origins of my specimens, I must admit that the creature is still the priority.”

I scrunched my nose. “Specimen? Creature? He’s my boy! Like a brotha from anotha motha, but with swagger and a couple-hundred-tons of being a weird allegory for slavery.”

“... What?”

With a sigh, I shook my head. “Long story, lots of imperialism. Problem is I own him and that’s got moral baggage heavy enough to wake my dumbass conscience up. The spell on him is some full-on enslavement shit with a sugary sprinkling of willingness that gets nastier every time I think about it.”

“Which is why you insisted I repay you for this opportunity by–”

I snapped my fingers into a point. “Figuring out if the spell intensity can be reduced. Yup. If we could go from sassiest ball-and-chained boy to witty employee who can resign, that’d be great.”

We arrived at the stable, where I conspicuously banged the metal lock against the timbers as I worked the key. Lorius fidgeted in unmitigated excitement upon realizing we had arrived. “I can hardly believe you’d keep such a magnificent creature cooped up in such a… erm, stable like that,” he remarked.

“I know how to stay inconspicuous,” I answered as I undid the lock, then turned about. “Now, repeat the mantra.”

He raised a hand, trying and failing to appear dismissively assuring. “I know, I know, calm and respectful. Keep to our agreed-upon list of questions, and if he asks, I must leave.”

While my confidence wasn’t exactly 100%, I nodded and opened the door. We stepped inside and Lorius audibly gasped. Pyroshir had elected to, just, present himself as-is. No disguise or reduction on his flaming mane. The room was silent for a good 5-10 seconds before someone spoke.

“Sup, dawg?”

Lorius stood frozen for a moment, then remembered to breathe. He shuddered noticeably. “I- I- I am… Master Lorius. I have been eager to make your acquaintance, mister… Pyroshir, is it?” he asked, extending a handshake.

Horse homie looked down at the hand, then at Lorius, then the hand. “Y’know, I always knew I wuz smokin’ hot. But I didn’t know I wuz so hot I could melt a mofucka’s brain with a look.”

Our lovably air-headed wizard glanced at his hand, slowly realizing the frivolity of the act. “Oh, I… apolo–”

“Y’know what? Fuck it,” Pyroshir interrupted, bending down to gently grasp the hand between his teeth, then nodding in the approximation of a handshake.

Lorius got his hand back intact, somewhat to his surprise. He seemed to finally get a grip and began his questions proper. “Is it true that you core striders live so deep that not even demons venture there?”

“Mostly. Get some big boys flyin’ down there sometimes. Think they's on vacation.”

A notepad and pen practically materialized out of thin air for Lorius to jot notes. “And is it true that you hold significant power over elemental earth and fire?”

“Yeah. Less up here tho. Too cold maaan.”

I leaned against the wall and accepted that I might be quietly watching over the proceedings for a while.

“Do you really not require sustenance?”

“Nahhh, I needs mah regula meals, y’hear? Good few poundsa bedrock and sulfates at least every 400 years. Feels like I spend half my life eatin’.”

I raised an eyebrow briefly, but didn’t comment.

“How about reproduction?” he inquired between his scribblings. “You are elemental beings, so I imagine it is a mysterious process?”

“Nah, I gotta dick n’ I use that bitch on bitches.”

I don’t like where this is going.

Lorius looked astonished. “Really? Sexually reproducing elementals?”

Pyroshir tilted his head. “Yeah, you need to take measurements or some shit?”

Stop!

“I… have certainly done stranger things for science.”

STOP!

……

I shut the door behind me and leaned my back against it, tapping my head against the wood with a sigh.

“Enjoy your little biology lesson?” asked a certain snickering girlfriend from the shadows of the hallway.

“Prefer not to answer.”

“I see. He does outshine even myself in a lack of social understanding.”

I shrugged and clapped twice to turn the magic lights on. “Thinking the same thing, but I wasn’t going to bring it up before you did. Anyway, what do you have on him?”

Matti came to throw an arm over my shoulder and led me to the kitchen as she spoke. “From what I heard, his tone was mostly sincere. He is honest to a fault, and his heart rate accelerated exclusively due to Pyroshir, not when making any statements to you. Paired with his scents, and what I could see through the window, there was almost no dishonesty.” She sat me at the table. “Despite that, I dislike his character. Radical knowledge seekers are often greedy for their next subject, often to someone’s detriment.”

I slow-nodded as she skipped over to the stove. “Well, honesty is a good start. Enthusiasm is a mixed bag, but I think I could convince him to sign the rest of the agreement.”

“You, on the other hand, reek of dishonesty in that statement. It was a struggle to garner his first signature, wasn’t it?” she asked, donning an oven mitt.

“Yeah. A real free spirit, that one, doesn’t like to be tied down or bound to strict terms.” I sighed, tired from my day. “What do you think, Matti?”

“I think,” she started, collecting a dish from the countertop and striding over to deposit it in front of me, “that you should have some crème brulée, and sleep on it.”

I smiled and tilted my head. “Aww, Matti, I’m gonna get fat at this rate…” I whined sarcastically.

“Ha! Of course you will!” she replied, sitting on the table to lord some sort of height advantage over me. Her eyes turned red for dramatic effect. “But you forget: I am a royal vampire, carrying a heritage of debauchery so rich that all the paper in the world could not hope to record it! Countless centuries spent indulging in anything we desire, and not a moment willingly given to the consequences.”

She vanished in a puff of mist, appearing behind me to walk her fingers up my shoulder. “Bodies, minds, beauties, vanity of all kinds, we have magic to fix every error, every perceived imperfection. Magic to rectify the consequences of a life of pure, delightful, sin.” She caressed my cheek.

“I could feed you cake 3 meals a day, and you could show abs all. year. long.” She looked into my eyes with a smile. “Doesn’t that sound incredible?”

I shook my head and chuckled, and only slightly due to discomfort. “Adventurers with six-packs starve faster.”

Matti paused a moment to come up with a rebuttal. “But a boyfriend with a ‘six-pack’?” she countered.

A shrug came over me. “Ah yes, sex appeal, something I have definitely, absolutely always strived for,” I proclaimed with fake bravado as I sunk my spoon into the crème brulée.

A little clink sounded as the metal met the dish and Matti whipped her head around so fast that I felt the lashings of her hair as it swung around. She bent over in a flash, then stood up and looked at me with a sad expression. “It didn’t caramelize right,” she said in the tone of a kicked puppy.

I looked her dead in the eye, then removed my spoon, cupped the cooling dish in my hands, bent over, and breathed fire on it. Following a good 5-second mag-dump (lung-dump?), I raised my head and took a breath to get some oxygen to my brain. Matti had backed up a step with her eyebrows raised. I seized the moment, raised the spoon to the burnt crust of sugar atop the custard, and dragged it across the glass-like surface, making a delicious scraping noise. After my demonstration, I scooped a spoonful and beckoned her over with a finger.

“Come here and get your chef tax,” I offered in a saccharine tone.

……

Pyroshir trotted with me on his back as we arrived in a nice, open field late that morning. I dismounted on the side of the road and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “When you really try like that, it might just be a smoother ride than a Tennessee walker.”

“Oh dayum, I gots no clue what that is, but I sense compliments!”

I leaned against his side, scanning the distant wood line for Matti… and/or Auseta. “You sense correctly. Now, when our mad scientist of choice shows up, you give him a fun time, but don’t go out of sight. He still hasn’t signed the last contract, so there’s some wiggle room to try shit.”

“Believe me, he tries any funny shit and I’mma whoop his ass like his momma never did.”

My magic sense tingled, and I looked up to see Lorius standing on a little cloud, swiftly carrying him to us. “Speak of the devil; engage manners.”

The cloud lowered to the ground and poofed as he touched down some 10 feet away. “Greetings, sirs,” he opened with noticeably more controlled emotions.

“Morning, Lorry,” I greeted with a smarmy grin. “Going less under-the-radar today?”

The phrase took a moment to parse, as he didn’t exactly know what radar is, but it seemed to click after a bit. “Oh… there are fewer people here, so I am more willing to be conspicuous.”

I nodded. “Alright, well, let’s keep this short and to the point. You’re getting the ride of your life, and if you’re happy, you’ll sign that last, pesky agreement. Then, you’d get to host him as an honored guest until I get back from my trip.”

He nodded, still trying to temper himself. “Very well. Let us see this highly-touted speed and power, then.”

With a flourish, I ushered him onto the saddle, then leaned in to whisper in Pyroshir’s ear. “Blow his mind, and make it a bumpy ride. Smash his nuts a little with that bounce, makes it easier to bargain with him.”

Most horses don’t smile, but Pyroshir certainly does. I winked, and he mirrored it as Lorry got settled into his saddle. “Oh, a heated saddle, how nice,” Lorius commented. “Now, let’s see this speed you talked so much abAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

And he’s off, ladies and gentlemen! Down the road trailing smoke and embers! These miles-an-hour don’t stop! 50! 60! 70! He’s comin’ ‘round the bend, can he stay in the saddle? Ooh! Close call there. He’s starting the straightaway in the fields, breaking 90 miles-an-hour now! And there’s the stream, will he hold on for this one, folks? Aaand there he goes! A gen-u-ine 50-foot-long 30-foot-high leap! Bravo to him for keeping his seating!

He’s coming around the second corner now. We’re reaching triple-digit speeds on the long straightaway! 100! 110! Aaand 120! Top-speed! You can only imagine the wind in his face right now, folks! Ohh! There goes his hat. Worry not, viewers, we borrowed a ball boy from the tennis court next door, he’ll go get it. Here comes the corner, but is he going too fast? Whoaaaa, in-credible! Look at all that dirt fly as he slides around that bend! No time to accelerate as the creek comes up again AND HE CLEARS IT WITH APLOMB!

Here comes the finish line, team Fire-Horse leads in first! They’re picking up speed again, screaming right for the checkered flag! Will he make first place in this single-entrant race? More after a word from our sponsors, folks! Raid-Sh–

FINISH! And with a final time of 43 seconds on our 1.1-mile course, that’s a new record, ladies and gentlemen! Tune in next time for more pulse-pounding, corner-busting, hoof-beating races!

Lorius’ hair was swept back as he gasped for air. I moseyed over to nudge his leg with my elbow. That brought him back to the moment, and he faced me with the adrenaline fading.

“I… I… would quite like to bring our friend here to a gathering of my peers,” he choked out.

Pyroshir looked back over his shoulder. “I’d say I ain’t no show pony, but thassa lie. You want some socks blown off? I gotchu.”

I unrolled the last little bit of contract, a few more pages firmly securing Pyroshir’s safety and pinning a whole lot of liability on anyone but myself. I pointed to a particular clause. “And of course you can, but you would have to keep a good eye on him, and send him home right after. I’m not going to have a magic horse heist going down. Just sign here, and you’re golden,” I stated, offering a pen.

Lorius dismounted and grabbed the pen to sign without reading anything. I would’ve pointed out how dumb that is, but Sun Tzu or… George Washington… Napoleon? I dunno, one of them would be spinning in their grave about interrupting someone while they make a mistake. He jotted one quick signature and I rolled the paper up. I rubbed it back and forth between my hands until it sprung into two pieces. Love me some single-double paper.

“Here’s your copy, just let me know when you’re leaving, and you can pick him up as you go.”

He stashed the copy in his robes and nodded absently. “Erm… how about… tonight? I could use some rest after that,” he explained.

“That works. Come knocking at sunset.”

Right then, his hat came floating up, and I saw a tug on his sleeve. He looked behind himself and saw the headwear, accepting it. “Oh, why thank you,” he said, donning the headwear before wheeling around and looking all about. “Who… what was that?”

“Magic personal assistant. A Gods’ Chosen sort of thingy, don’t mind it,” I explained with a hand wave.

At that, he nodded and… waddled off. As he recast his cloud and flew away, I glanced at Pyroshir. “Ohh man, you really let his family jewels have it.”

“Ask and you shall receive, brotha.”

……

“I feel mixed,” Matti commented as she stirred the beet stew.

“How so?” I asked, pondering if I needed to wash my hands of the red… again.

She let the spoon rest in the pot and turned around. “Half of me wonders what you even have to worry about. You have five layers of magically-enforced contracts, me watching him like a hawk, your… invisible friend, and whatever you personally had at the ready, all pointed at that Lorius fellow for a simple deal. It all seemed… excessive, needlessly so.”

I gave up on making my hands look less murdery and leaned back in my chair. “And at the same time, I’m lending an ultra-rare, extremely-sought-after magical creature to a wizard deeply engrossed in the exact circle most interested in such a creature, not to mention rife with the resources to steal him, regardless of how well-protected he is.”

Matti threw up an indignant hand. “Precisely! I am torn between seeing you as paranoid to the point of insanity, or maddeningly lax. And I cannot divine what the truth of the matter is.”

I took a swig of water. “Well, I’m definitely paranoid, a little insane, and incredibly lazy, so let’s just say it all averages out, yeah?”

“I suppose so,” she agreed, turning to resume her stirring.

I kicked my feet up and slow-nodded, thinking of whether I had anything to add. Before I could come up with something, I heard a distinct vwoom-vwoom, vwoom-vwoom, coming from the entry hall. Matti perked up immediately.

“You didn’t say you have a receiving sigil in the house, Dennis.”

I stood up immediately. “I don’t.”

“The stones can receive calls without being in a sigil?” she called over my shoulder as I power walked over.

“Sometimes!” I answered with an… in hindsight, needlessly-raised voice. Seriously, a vampire GF could hear you utter the slightest annoyance under your breath from across the house with guests over, what was I even thinking? (Hint: I wasn’t.)

I picked up the stones and the privacy barrier popped over my head. “Hello? Is this Triple-B?”

“Yes, is this Dennis T Lawson?”

“Speaking.”

There was a pause. “Lie detection confirms. We have processed your letter and approved your tag-along. The vampire known as Mattirina has been added to your file as an associate and is therefore on record for future filings. Your permission slip will be faxed immediately after this call, please be prepared to accept it within 5 minutes.”

“Thank you. And what about the… other contents?”

“That has been a more complicated matter. We have analyzed your stat card and found no matches for your highlighted status effects in our records. All attempts at traditional translation failed, so it was run through the Translatia Ultima…”

“Well? What are they?”

“This is embarrassing to admit, but neither could be translated.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “What? The machine that can translate literally anything failed at its one job?”

“Not entirely. We have encountered this before. These runes do not exist in any standard text on Nassur, and that is deliberate. It means their meaning is not set, and thus, is being scrambled remotely. Therefore, it is spitting out a different result every time.”

“Great, and why is it doing that?”

“In all previous instances, the statuses have been given from dungeons, quests, or items of celestial make, and automatically translated themselves into legible print immediately after the dramatic crescendo of their plot arc.”

I slowly fell against the wall and started rubbing my temple. “Fffffuuuck.”

…

That was all that needed to be said for a minute, but then I pulled myself together and kept at the conversation. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“Not entirely. We have been able to determine the character count and placement of spaces for the English translation of both statuses, and some of their mechanical details. The first is 3 words of 9, 10, and 8 letters and is permanently active with no triggers or timers. The second is 4 words of 2, 3, 7, and 2 letters, and is inactive with an activation trigger set. We will send you a note with this information along with the return of your stat card via fax.”

I sighed. “Alright, thanks for your assistance.”

“And thank you for notifying us of current events, as well as your continuing efforts in ridding the world of the wyvern menace. Good luck.”

I hung up the stones and put them away before blowing some air from my lips.

“What was that all about?” Matti called from the kitchen.

“It was Triple-B. They’re faxing in your approval right now.”

“Yaaaay!” she cheered with genuine excitement.

……

“Is Cam in?” I asked, striding in like I owned the place.

Tony raised his hand. “He’s in the back.”

“Thanks, mate,” I responded with a thumbs-up.

One quick walk over to the back and I opened up the middle door between the two offices, finding the nice, secluded room with hammocks. There he was, snoozing and ready to go; the absolute best way to spend company time (no, really, if nothing’s happening, get some sleep). I poked him until he woke up from his snoozing.

“Get yourself up and come to my office once you’re fully awake,” I ordered softly.

“Mmm’kay.”

A few minutes later and Cam walked into my office, groggily rubbing his eye. “Hi, Boss, hi, Matti,” he greeted. She nodded her head from where she sat on my desk.

I stood up. “Alright, Cam, today’s the day! Sort of. The wyvern hunt is a go, but we’ll head out tomorrow. Today, however, we will be familiarizing ourselves with the equipment.” That said, I moved over to the bookshelf. “Try not to be too shocked, Cam,” I said as I opened the passage to the Ratcave™.

He was completely deadpan. “Bro, it’s honestly insulting that you even call it a secret. Let’s go.”

“Wait, lemme turn off the traps first.”

……

I had to start with a quick tour, but we were back on track soon enough. I produced the permission slip from my bag and held it up. It was a triangular piece of paper with three fingerprints, one on each tip. Written in the center, was ‘License to Kill’.

“Alright, this is our ticket to the big leagues. We three signed up, so it takes all of us to unlock the gear. Grab a corner, y’all.”

Cam did as asked, and Matti followed after getting over her revulsion at my use of such a horrid contraction. Three thumbs, three corners, three simultaneous tugs. The slip broke into pieces and turned into glowy floating embers. A few of each flew to the backs of our hands, leaving a mark of subtly-glowing energy. The rest quickly went to the nearest open space and formed into a number of boxes. Once Cam finished admiring his ‘Moderator’s Mark’, he found the time to check out the boxes, at which point his eyes bulged.

“Shit, is that plastic?”

“Polymer, but yeah,” I corrected, moving to the nearest, oblong polymer crate.

On the top was written ‘Ol’ Reliable’, and it was shut with a lock that opened the instant I touched it. My two compatriots crowded around me as I unhooked the metal latches with satisfying clicks, and opened it wide. Every GC I showed this to had that star-struck look, and it’s wholly appropriate.

“What is thaaat?” Matti whispered in amazement.

Cam reached for it, pausing to look at me, earning an approving nod. He held it in his hand, feeling the heft and inspecting the controls. “I gotta say it,” he stated.

“You are literally unable,” I remarked.

“I don’t give a fuck about the censorship. I’m just a _____ with a rocket launcher.”