Selene sat in the grass wrapped in a kimono. She looked like her own sister. There were traits that were very similar, her lips, her hair color, the shape of her face. But she was different too. Her hair was in a short page cut, so different than what Weland was used to seeing from her. Her clothes - before they’d been torn - were masculine, and bulky enough to hide her feminine figure. Yet even that was totally different. Her chest was definitely a good bit smaller. Ten years in Earthland had ruined his ability to judge normal there. While he’d grown used to it, he still remembered that the exaggeration of feminine figures had struck him early on.
He didn’t really have time for such carnal thoughts and he knew it. His Archive hadn’t managed to establish a connection with Minerva yet, but that wasn’t too surprising. It would have to work out in expanding rings until it did, and he had no idea how far she was from him. It’d be easiest if they stayed still while waiting, but it wasn’t really necessary.
He needed to be considering what to do next though. He didn’t have money. He didn’t have a place in this world. Selene was a pickpocket and thief wanted in several kingdoms by her own admission. She didn’t have any particularly useful connections or contacts, and he didn’t have any at all useless or otherwise.
He had power. If he just wanted to live it’d not be too hard. He could walk into some kingdom and declare himself king, and beat anyone who said otherwise. He could play bandit lord and demand tribute far and wide. But that would be counterproductive. He could emulate Percival, walk into Camelot and swear himself Arthur’s knight and when called out as a bumpkin beat the ass of Arthur’s foster brother so hard it becomes a problem. But he had no idea what the actual duties of a holy knight would be, how they actually lived, and whether that would put him in a position to complete many bounties.
He could live up to his name and play Weland the Smith. Or… Weland the Enchanter. He could try and make Sacred Treasures all his own. He just didn’t know.
Selene’s head rose. He didn’t like the page cut with her face. She was looking at him, though. “So what are you doing?” She asked.
“Experimenting,” he said. He’d used his territory magic to enclose a small cylinder - about 100-ft tall and 20-ft diameter. He’d teleported everything he could out of it, and then teleported a rock into it before connecting the top and bottom with portals. The rock was falling, reappearing at the top, and falling further. It wasn’t a true vacuum, but it was close to one, no air resistance to create a terminal velocity. So the rock kept falling faster and faster and faster.
He’d tried using his enchantment magic to enchant a rock with magic to accelerate it, using Infinity to make the enchantment keep reinforcing itself.
The rock had exploded.
“With what?” Selen asked.
“Relativistic kill vehicles.”
“With what?”
“Relativistic kill-” Weland broke off at her angry glare. “An emergency option in case I find myself in a fight I can’t otherwise win.”
“With a falling rock?”
“It’s accelerating at a constant rate of 1 g. No air means it won’t slow down or break apart due to friction.”
“So?”
“Force equals mass times acceleration. Wait no that’s not right.”
“What?”
“Newton’s second law. Force equals mass times acceleration, but that’s not the right one here. That’d tell you how much force is acting on the rock, not how much it will impart when it hits.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The faster something goes the harder it hits.”
“Well yeah, that’s obvious.”
“And this rock will keep going faster and faster.”
“So what? It'll still just be a rock.”
“Even a rock can hit harder than my strongest spell if it’s going fast enough. And there are people here who can reflect magic but not physical attacks. And even if it comes through a teleportation portal, a falling rock still isn’t magic.”
Selene’s eyes widened a bit, and she looked at the rock and then back at Weland. “And just how fast can it go?”
Weland shrugged. “I don’t remember too much of physics. Still its momentum should be mass times velocity. And that should tell you about how hard it hits. And its velocity is constantly increasing by 1g.”
“A g?”
“The force of gravity. Normally something will reach terminal velocity, where the air resistance becomes so great it neutralizes acceleration from gravity. But in that little pocket it has none. When it’s exposed to air it should be hitting it hard enough to make the air explode.”
“Air can explode?”
Weland grinned. “I think. It’s been a long time since I touched anything involving physics. I just remember relativistic kill vehicles were a thing.”
“What kind of wars did your world have?”
“Theoretical ones in this case. Still Infinity gives me an infinity of possibilities. It’s just a matter of figuring out how to reach them.”
“Oh?”
“Let’s say I hadn’t sealed off the sides. But I instead put a waterwheel in the path. The rock would hit it and turn the wheel. It’d be able to do work from there.”
“Just like a river would.”
“But I could make thousands of them. I could make it a thousand times the size. I could use water instead of a rock and I could hook those wheels up to a generator and make a perpetual supply of electrical energy.”
“Electrical energy?”
“My world didn’t have magic. It relied on discovering how lightning worked and controlling it to make devices to match those of Edolas. Just like we brought magic back to Edolas, this would let me remove all the energy woes of my world. No fossil fuels. No wind turbines that devastate the ecosystem. No solar panels reliant on rare earth metals which pollute the world. No nuclear fallout and waste. Nothing toxic. Just enough metal to run the dynamos.”
“Sounds like something that will do your world a lot of good when we return to it.”
“And it’s really nothing compared to what can be done with infinity. I mean I could simplify it so much just by using Infinity with a touch of lightning magic. No need to turn the force of gravity into electricity when I can just provide an endless source of electricity.” Weland picked a rock off of the ground. “I could turn this into a battery that could run forever.” A touch of electricity ran through it as he tossed it upwards. It was a tiny electricity spell, and a touch of enchantment magic, but with Infinity compounding the enchantment over and over again, by the time gravity had stopped the rock’s ascent and was pulling it down, the stone exploded from the building electrical force within it.
“I sense a but coming sometime soon.”
“But I don’t know how to make use of this power. Not how it will be useful to me here and now.”
Selene’s hand touched his shoulder. “Well I’m glad you started by making yourself look more like you usually do,” She said. “And I’ll be more than happy to help you figure out how to make the most of this power.”
Weland smiled. He was glad to have her by his side. “Let’s look at the bounties”
There was one that obviously took priority as the first step, though. “What do you say we give your patrons a show?”
“We talk to Minerva first, and you tell me the plan before that. The look in your face scares me.”
Selene grinned a vulpine grin. “I just think it’s time to create a distortion. It’s how one creates power. Just like your relative killing vehicle.”
“Relativistic kill vehicle, because it moves at relativistic speeds… at least it will if it gets to charge up long enough.” He was still glad to have her by his side. Even if it was going to be a headache.
Camelot went quiet as the moon began to shine down upon its castle, a noon-time night. Perhaps more breathtaking than that stellar abnormality was the silver-white creature which hung between the oversized orange moon and the castle itself. It was a strange and horrible mix of a many tailed fox and a dragon, its ‘wings’ a mass of tails spreading out through the air. Scales and fur competed to cover its body and a great pair of crescent horns rose from the back of its head.
Weland had ceased to voice his objections. He still had his doubts and concerns about this line of approach. It was too overt and too large of a splash. The repercussions were impossible to predict. But Selene had a taste for the grandiose.
Camelot’s eyes were upon them. A dragon appearing over the castle with a noontime night was a quick way to draw the attention and interest of an entire town. Weland could see the holy knights of Camelot beginning to gather.
Selene was coming down to the ground. Settling onto it and allowing Weland to gently hop off. And then she was changing, resuming a human shape if not her truly human form. She was still the Moon Dragon God, merely using magic to take human shape. Weland could feel the difference between it and the human form she’d been in when he found her in this world, even more stark than the sheer physical difference. This was the form of Selene he was used to seeing.
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“We come from afar to speak with your noble king,” Selene declared. “We bring him grim tidings and dark portents.”
There was a murmur which passed through the crowd, and one man stepped forward, hand drawing his sword from its sheath. Weland could feel his magic power. It was insignificant, though he couldn’t guess at his physical strength.
He’s got 18 Magic Power, 903 Physical Strength, and 190 Spirit. He’s pathetic. Selene’s thoughts came in through his Archive. She was wearing the magic earring she had been given as a cheat on entering this world. A copy of Balor’s magical eye which could read the combat power of foes.
“How dare you scare the people of Camelot!” The bravado filled knight declared. “Must I show you your place?”
“Do not point a sword at my lady,” Weland said in a warning tone, stepping forward and placing his hand on the great shaft of his warhammer. He wore his Brontes plate, the yellow and blue scales of the thunder dragon showing in the gaps of the metal plates of its outer level. “We come here in peace, but if you demand we prove our puissance, point your blade at me, and not my wife.” Weland knew the man couldn’t really threaten or harm Selene with a power like that. But there was a visceral and bodily reaction to seeing someone threaten her even if they couldn’t meaningfully harm her. Besides, it was rude.
“Prove your what?”
“Puissance. Personal power and strength, especially that of battle,” Weland said, the roll in his eyes audible in his voice.
“Then prove it,” The knight said, rushing forward with his sword. He was fast, moving forward in a single springing lunge, his sword swinging towards Weland’s gorget. The blade was a hand’s breadth from Weland’s armor when the man hit the ground, the electricity that had risen up around him, pulling him to the dirt as it shot through his body. The ground crackled angrily in a ring around Weland, a little more than an arm’s length from him.
“Proof?” Weland asked, glancing down at the man who was still struggling to rise, as electricity continued to surge up through him.
“This is nothing,” the man said. He was slowly fighting up to his feet. And Weland increased the power of the electricity surging through him casually.
“We are here to bring a warning to your king,” Weland announced. “Do any others seek to stop that?”
The knight had ceased to try and rise. His arms and legs would not support him. He was laying on the ground, no longer able to struggle against the force of the current running through him. Weland shut it off with a dismissive wave of his hand, he had no desire to kill the knight.
“What is the warning you have for me?” Weland’s head turned towards the sound of the newcomer. They were a child, 16 at most, a youth far below the age of leading a country.
Weland spun to face the king directly, and dropped to one knee. “I bring you a grim and dark tiding, oh king of men. A new holy war looms in under 2 years time, and if nothing is done it will mean the destruction of Camelot.”
Arthur was visibly taken aback at that statement. Despite that the orange haired youth carried himself well. He was not particularly tall - no taller than Weland’s human form and Weland was on the shorter side himself - but he had a presence which Weland had to admit was definitely beyond his obviously short years. “What do you mean by this? How, why, will Camelot be destroyed?”
Weland didn’t remember the exact details. “The Demon Clan will be freed, and it will resume its war with the Goddess Clan and those who serve the Goddess Clan. The Demon Clan will take Camelot as their personal fortress and capital and it will be obliterated in the battles to follow.”
A heavily robed and cloaked individual who had been standing behind and to one side of Arthur stepped forward. “And what source do you claim for this information?”
“A message from the Demiurge,” Selene said stepping up beside Weland. “She who crafted the world tree, as well as the Supreme Goddess and the Demon King. She gave me this warning.”
The cloaked figure took a half step back, and Weland could see the little glance from King Arthur. He was fairly certain the heavy robes hid Merlin the magician from sight, and even after all these years he remembered that she had only joined the Sins to manipulate for Chaos’s release and to make Arthur the King of Chaos. Weland had changed the name in their story, from Chaos to Demiurge, to set her off-balance, but at the same time he knew she’d recognize who it was that created those things. He wasn’t certain if she could contact Chaos for more information - he didn’t think she could but his memories of her connection with Chaos were minimal - he had to hope she couldn’t. Because he knew she was plotting, scheming, and planning, and he was fairly certain their goals were incompatible. And between her innate magic power of Infinity and her immense knowledge and skill of magic she was the most dangerous person in all of Britannia for him to count as an enemy. Making himself known to her now was dangerous in the extreme. But it would stir the pot, and create distortions he might need to maximize the power he gained in this world, by bounties and otherwise.
“The Demiurge?” Arthur asked.
“That is what the philosopher Plato named that being which created all the world, revealed to him by his intimate relationship with Sophia.” Weland said.
Weland could see the uncertain glance from the young king to the robed mage. Arthur was still unready in his place as king, and leaned too heavily on the magician. Of course there was wisdom in seeking information from those who were better informed.
“And what is it you want for delivering this message,” a mustached man, somewhat taller than Arthur. “I assume if Arthur gives you a position and authority over the men of Camelot, one with a steady stream of revenue and income, you’ll be able to prevent this destruction. It’s a scam, isn’t it? That dragon was nothing but an illusion!”
“Selene don’t!” Weland’s scream came almost too late, even before he had finished her name Selene was in her true, draconic form, her claw pinning the man to the ground.
“Does this feel like an illusion to you?” Selene asked, her vulpine head lowered towards the man’s face. The holy knights had moved for their weapons, even the king beginning to draw his. “I can assure you I am quite real, and we have traveled far to bring you this warning.”
“I need no great revenue or income,” Weland said, stepping forward. “If I must live a peasant’s life I will abide by it. I need but the aid of a smith, and the tools to work as one, and Arthur’s trust and help. I am an enchanter, one who creates tools of magic - sacred treasures - to be wielded by others as tools and weapons. My enchantments will not be enough to protect Camelot on their own, but I would endeavour to equip your knights with them, and if you would have me aid in its protection.”
The man beneath Selene’s claw kicked and thrash. “Unhand me, beast! I am the king’s seneschal, and brother! He will not accept this dishonor done to his family!”
Arthur’s gauntleted hand reached for the back of his head, scratching somewhat awkwardly at it. “Great dragon, could you release my brother? His words were rude, and brash, but his heart was simply in the protection of Camelot.” As Selene’s claw rose from the body of Sir Kay seneschal of the king, Arthur’s eyes turned towards Weland. “If you can truly craft sacred treasures you would be quite honored in any court, without need for such grave warnings.”
Selene, muttering about how she did not want some lowly peasant’s life, aquiesced to the king’s request.
“Judge me not by words, and with no ifs, but perhaps by the gift I bring,” Weland’s armor flickered and vanished, leaving him in a fine garment of silks. The armor re-appeared in a heap in front of Arthur. “My Brontes Plate, forged from the body of a dragon I slew. While I did not fashion the steel and scales alone, it was my magic which wove its enchantment and gave it its power of magic. If our skills as a smith are merely those of an apprentice, I would hope you find my skills as an enchanter satisfactory, and accept this gift for you, oh king, and see for yourself what power my crafts bring with them.”
“It would seem a most worthy gift,” Arthur said, reaching towards the armor, “And I would be happy to…”
The robed sorcerer’s arm reached for his and caught it. They stepped forward. “Wouldn’t it be better to allow one of your knights to don it first and make certain that there is no perilous enchantment upon it?”
Arthur frowned. He looked Weland in the eyes, and then looked at Merlin, and looked again at Weland. “No. I will try it on myself. And if it is a worthy sacred treasure and you can make more, there is not a person in the kingdom who would ask you to live a peasant’s life, or question you having a place in the king’s hall.”
Weland could smell the meat of the feast when they were brought into the royal feasting hall. Ale flowed freely, and roast meat adorned the tables. Selene stayed by his side, even as he was seated near the king. He was a newcomer to the court, and one that the king took some interest in.
Merlin’s interest was more cautious and distrusting than Arthur’s. The armor had been true to Weland’s words. It had done no harm to King Arthur, merely provided him with a conduit for his magical power to release in the form of lightning magic. Weland had proven true to his word. He had provided a Sacred Treasure that would be worthy of legends. Arthur took that as a reason to trust his why. Merlin, Weland felt, did not.
The meal and show were, compared to what Weland had gotten used to in Selene’s court in Edolas quaint. A mere provincial backwater compared to the eternal city of Rome. It was not horrible. There was plenty to eat. The ale was watery and weak, but the meat was well cooked, moist, and delightful. But there was nothing to make it impressive to one who had long dined on royal feasts.
Weland’s attention was instead on the figures about the table. He couldn’t have told you if any appeared in the manga ever, but one caught Selene’s eye. Out of all of the men there, his Spirit was highest, second only to Arthur’s own. His physical strength was low, and his magic only middling, but his spirit alone put his power higher than the vast majority of the court.
And when Weland’s eyes fell on him, Weland noticed something else. The man was missing one hand. Weland pointed to him. “Lord Arthur, who is that knight with but a single hand?”
“He is Bedivere, he was among the first knights to swear his allegiance to me. Why?”
“Could you request he come here?” Weland still didn’t know what level of obeisance was appropriate around the king.
Arthur called the knight over and they approached. He was young, in his early 20s, and while taller than Weland or Arthur he was not tall. His Strength was only 20. Even Merlin’s was 70, and the other Holy Knights of Camelot all were at least above hers. And it showed in his physique, he wasn’t rippling with muscles, or bulging with power. He was lank, and almost scrawny, the sort who one might expect to be picked on in a court of warriors, though to Camelot’s credit Weland saw none of that. His spirit was nearly 1500, according to Selene’s magical eye.
“What is it you need of me, my liege?” He asked, dropping to one knee.
Arthur showed a small hint of embarrassment at the display. “My guest wished to have a word with you.”
Bedivere looked at Weland. “How may I be of service?”
“Could you rise and show me your arm?” Weland’s gaze told clearly which arm he spoke of, and Bedivere’s sour face told even more clearly that it was a sore spot for him even now.
Even so he rose and extended it outwards, obeying the request of his king’s guest without hesitation and his best attempt to hide his displeasure.
Weland’s hands moved to Bedivere’s stump and his requip magic began to work. Bedivere’s missing hand was the opposite of his own, but a small twist and tweak to the requip magic that helped smooth over sizing could reflect it on a chiral level. Infinity could lock that change in permanently. And the hand would fit over Bedivere’s stump as easily as it had his own.
Bedivere’s eyes were wide with shock as he jumped back and half fell, his hand touching the ground making him jump again. The hand was black metal, the tips of its fingers claws, but he could feel through the gauntlet as if it was his own flesh and blood. He stared in amazement at it moving his fingers almost dumbfounded.
“I faced a similar injury once, and I know what it is like to be incomplete,” Weland said. He might could have healed the arm, but that would require cutting away the scar tissue, and he wasn’t completely sure it would have worked. Besides, Weland had put off restoring his own hand because he might need one of the magic tools that replaced it. He was not above deciding the same for another. “That hand was made to turn magic that moves through it into a weapon against demons. It is a relic of battle and of great power, I hope you will put it to proper use.”
“Th-th-thank you so much, sir. This gift… I do not have words for my gratitude,” He said, a touch of tears in his eye.
“I look forward to seeing how you grow in strength to wield it properly.”
“I will do all in my power to be worthy of this gift,” Bedivere said with a deep, heartfelt bow.
“If you keep giving gifts like this, you might find yourself swarmed with those who wish for them,” Kay warned sourly.
“Our guest is rather giving for one who came to beg for wealth,” King Arthur chimed in.