Chapter 5

“Your problem, with—whatever this—creation of yours is supposed to be, sounds obvious…”

Arthur took a long drink from his beverage, tossing it once emptied upon the fire that he’d built in a stone pit, reaching down between himself and Dianna to grab another refreshment, now chilled within an ice-filled bucket, compliments, at least where the ice was concerned, of his new demonic drinking buddy.

“Oh yeah?” He murmured, slurring as he did so, nearly falling out of his camping chair as he swayed with ponderous balance. “How would you know? I thought robots weren't a thing here…”

“What's different between a robot and a golem?”

“Not much, I suppose… can you make golems out of metal and have them perform complicated tasks?”

“Sure, if that's what they're made for,” Dianna nodded, staring at the fire with a distant gaze. “honestly, it doesn't sound that far off… so I'm thinking that maybe it is how you imagined your golem to be that's the issue.”

“Robot.”

“Robot…” She agreed with a haughty scoff.”

“Hey, it's an important distinction! Robot makes it sound cool and futuristic while golem just reminds me of a rock-like thing made out of mud…”

“Whatever you say.” Dianna intoned, eyeing him from the side while giving a small shake of her head. “Either way, how I know it works is that intelligent golems require more than just magic and materials. They need a soul to actually come to life while similar creations with simple minds good only for following orders or, that are designed for a single or, at least very narrow scope of work pretty much just need the magic—and materials.” She amended, reaching down for another beer herself.

At this point, they were both getting drunk, Arthur keeping up through virtue of experience alone. Apparently, alcohol wasn't entirely easy to get one's hands on beyond the military or in it, which, like her brother and sister, she’d retired from after being awarded land for her service.

“You're saying I need to pop a soul card into my robot to make it work?”

“Couldn't say,” Dianna replied lazily. “But, if the concept itself is indeed similar to what I described, then chances are it needs one, yes.”

Arthur just grumbled, closing his eyes with a yawn as he did so… “Great to know. But, wish I did before I went and wasted all my cards from the cultist… going to have to go hunting in the morning to figure out if you're right…”

The demoness looked at Arthur for a moment, shrugging her shoulders before stumbling to her hooves, draining her fresh beer in a most admirable fashion that many a young mother had doubtless managed in their lives. Her daughter was already fast asleep in Arthur's bed, the widest grin that Dianna had ever seen on her little girl's face plastered from cheek to cheek. So, given that they’d already been pounding back the beers as fast as he could make them, she’d decided to let the girl sleep. Now, however, he wasn't sure as to what she was about…

“Where are you going?” Arthur half slurred, half mumbled, an eyebrow raised as Diana languidly stretched and flexed her massive wings.

“To get you a soul.” She replied, her cruel grin gleaming in the firelight and exposing glittering teeth.

Arthur had to browbeat the tingle he felt in watching the ridiculously sexy demon-woman limber up like a lazy cat, telling himself that he had to be some sort of masochist to be interested in—all of that… Still, after she’d flown off and nearly knocked him over with the wind of her departure, there was a familiar whistle in the otherwise silent night, a brief screech of alarm resounding from beyond the veil of darkness before, without warning, Dianna dropped back into the light, causing Arthur to jump, a reaction that made the bal’s face crack with a smile.

“Wasn't fair; that's a jump-scare; everyone falls for those.”

“Whatever you say… human…”

Arthur was about to retort with something else when, from her fingers, Dianna handed him a tarot. He stared at the thing for a moment, accepting the card with a bewildered expression, turning it over to observe the name; voracious grazer upon the back.

“Animals around here aren't worth much for someone who’s empowered their souls to our people's average… even children would scarcely get much considering we tend to help force their evolutions along so they get stronger quicker… at least in the legions but a soul's a soul… let’s see if it works.”

He nodded at the demon, reminded of her capacity for violence, before shrugging it off and wandering over to his invention. He could swear there was a gleam of darkness about her bladed tail before she began wiping it on the grass…

Honestly, not expecting much, he delicately placed the soul card over his creation's ethereal form, pulling away as he felt the tarot being sucked from his fingers. He stared at the little bot for a time, eyes squinting as he did so, then growing wide when he realized it was suddenly making progress… Not fast progress, but, it was starting to shift in shading as it manifested…

“It worked…”

“Told you that it wasn't that different,” Dianna replied, seeming to take his word for it as they’d already learned she couldn't see what was going on. The demoness took a long breath, clicking her tongue a few moments later and seemingly growing bored as Arthur began doting on his little invention with as much material as he could manage. “It's getting really late… I'm—going to take Tulla home with me…”

“Want me to bring her out?” Arthur asked, hesitating from his somewhat zealous work and looking pointedly at her rather large wings that were gently extending themselves out as though basking in the cool breeze.

“Sure, that damned house isn't made for people with wings and a tail.”

“The same could be said for where you live now.”

Dianna nodded, not bothering to stop speaking, while Arthur retrieved her daughter and returned. “Legions are still busy with the supposed remnants of the Tricen, but it's not a fast process for—reasons we don't need to get into. Either way, we're all rather convinced the imperial workforce wont reach us for some years. I know it might not look like it, but we haven't actually been here that long, less than a few months really. Plans are already in the works to build something more—appropriate when we manage some supplies, but until the war is over, all we keep hearing from command is tough it out and wait.”

“Would be more than willing to help.” Arthur offered, handing Tulla over to a somewhat bemused Dianna, who was chewing at her bottom lip. “I assume you're all more used to building tall rather than short and wide?”

“A good guess.”

“Call it an educated one.”

Dianna looked to where he was pointing, noting that he was referring to her wings. She nodded solemnly, glancing at her peacefully sleeping little girl with a slight smile before turning to the man who owned Tulla’s new favourite place to be. “She loves it here, you know… I can see why, even if it bothers me, so I'm not surprised… Not much for a kid to do in a run-down place like the settlement… aren't even any other children her own age, not really…She’s…” Dianna paused, worrying at her lip before carrying on. “She’s quite mature for her actual age, same as her aunt and myself were… and cousin, I suppose.”

“Be a shame if she’s not allowed back.” Arthur agreed, stepping away as the demon's tail began to swish ponderously.

“She can return then?”

“Of course, Tulla doesn't bother me, mostly; I figure she’d going to keep to her own devices… She’s a good kid, just bored, I get it. Honestly, it's no large ordeal; I’d feel worse saying she couldn't at this point… precedent and all that. It would be practically cruel to take it away… I mean, It’s not like I really use the holo much these days, regardless…”

Dianna nodded again, nose scenting the air before asking another question. “Can I come back as well?”

That caught Arthur right in the chin and entirely off-guard, and, though he should have been capable of more, he was in a—reduced state and all he could manage was a stupid question. “Why?”

The demoness didn't give him a verbal answer, merely turning away when she caught his bewildered expression, though he felt an icy chill run down his spine as, while she turned, a long and muscled tail crept along his backside, snaking its way across his rear and right thigh in a—decided sensual manner he couldn't quite believe was happening before Dianna leapt in the air and was gone to the night. Arthur left, staring dumbfounded at a silhouette just barely visible for a few rapid heartbeats before it disappeared against the silvery network above… “Well fuck me…” he whispered, gently swaying on his feet and far too drunk to truly understand the implications.

Hangovers were not something Arthur enjoyed… but they nevertheless were nature’s way of reminding him to partake in greater caution than he previously had… as if he ever listened… He stumbled out of his trailer, having crashed on the pull-out couch and passed out after a few more drinks… He was going to have to watch that little vice… having had a finite supply made it easy to control, but after learning what he had, abundance was an issue both he and his better judgment would have to contend with… Sadly, booze, as it was said, ran in the family. His mother chugged the stuff in wine format like it was going out of style, and his dad drank whiskey like a fish did water… Though he had managed to steer clear of it for many years in his life, once Arthur had gotten a taste for it, well, the rest was simply history…

Through continued trial and error over the course of the morning, Arthur had learned that his power to create wasn't at all infallible. There were restrictions and rules abound that the card didn't actually mention, leaving him struggling to make sense of why he could create a totally theoretical, and, not to mention, bullshit energy sword, but not an intelligent spy camera, without the addition of a soul. As it happened, his little drone was nearing completion, the device, in truth, tiny when compared to even his hand. Which was good because Arthur had a plan today, and it had largely relied upon having the drone to work with.

He was discovering that, with the application of magic, ridiculous science fiction was entirely within the realm of his capabilities. However, one of the restrictions he discovered arrived by way of quantity and size. He could seemingly make whatever he wanted, so long as it was only a single example… Likewise, anything beyond the thirty-centimetre diameter in either the horizontal or vertical plane was, simply put, beyond him. He could sort of stretch the entirely theoretical material out, kind of like he had with the rake, but to a decidedly observable loss of efficiency… And, likewise, exceeding what he was naming his—volume of space to work within was a dangerous proposition. There was this looming dread that overcame his person when he tried to push the boundaries of what he was allowed… which was one aspect of it all that he wasn't eager to test. Largely, he accepted this condition for what it was, assuming that, like the limitations on the quantity of something he could make concurrently at a time, which, as it happened, was eight, he assumed it would eventually get easier and better if he ever got around to improving his cards. For now, however, Arthur was content to simply work with what he had, and, taking from all the very best that science fiction had to offer, it was with an ear-mounted holo-display for a transparent tactical overlay, his spydrone, and, of course, his chosen weapons that he prepared for the early afternoon.

Having needn't been restricted by a more bullet-centric mindset, Arthur had been relatively free to toy around with his imagination… However, he also quickly arrived at the understanding that burning down the entire wilderness because of errant fires caused by lasers or plasma and ensuring that his bones remained whole in his arm from firing his concept weapons had somewhat—restricted what he was willing to try. He’d only have one chance to do it properly before something catastrophic happened that Arthur would regret. It took him quite a lot of time to consider what sort of weapon would best suit his needs. Bullets were, while useful and admittedly not yet obsolete with mass-driven technology, sadly, not something he could create en masse. Yes, it was true he could sit there and create an endless supply of individual bullets, but his goal was effective productivity as much as it was anything else… This brought him to energy bolts, arc guns, lasers and of course, pulse weapons. Each had its own ups and downs when it came to design, but the former three all shared a single thing in common, at least within the realm of science fiction: they caught things on fire… Not a bad thing so long as collateral damage wasn't among one's concerns, but it was for Arthur… effective at killing from range as they were, they simply—didn't fit the bill.

A pulse weapon was the perfect idea on paper until one considered the recoil of a non-shoulder-mounted contraption. At best… well, the truth was he wasn't even sure what kind of ranges he would achieve with such an energy-based tool that had been tuned to prevent his arm from ripping off the first time he shot it… but, it had been his best bet… That, of course, was, until Arthur realized that he probably didn't have to remain within the realm of what should be possible. Why couldn't he try and make a tractor beam, a disintegration ray, or, even a freezing one? Why couldn't he make a little drone that would rain holy hell from above while he simply sat in his camping chair and watched from his hologram? It was all entirely silly and utterly ridiculous… and he loved every moment the more he thought about it… After all, why shouldn't he build an energy-based—rod from god?

The reality of his plans was, of course, not to scale of what he was initially envisioning. And he certainly wouldn't be calling whatever world government that existed here and demanding millions of dollars. Yet, he found that it really didn't matter… No, he felt like a battlefield commander in one of his games, and it tickled every fancy he had. Above, his beautiful and, more importantly, intelligent drone was flying, offering him an aerial view to work in conjunction with the two bots he had on the ground. A fourth, and, what he was naming an artillery unit was hovering much lower, waiting for his commands. Well, in truth, the commands would arrive from his spy drone which—technically was the one who controlled the others… yes, yes, robot apocalypse, Skynet, he was aware of it all… However, the reality was there was actually very little his small drone could interface within this world. Moreover, it had been designed with magic to be eternally loyal to him, which he was praying was enough… who knew what the upper limits were when AI and mysticism decided to have a bastard lovechild… Yet for the time being, existing as his own general of his budding little army of bots was exactly what he’d always wanted, even if said robots were… small…

There was an age-old saying in pop culture that, with great power came great responsibility… Arthur had always believed that to be a self-fulfilling prophecy and, thus moot for anyone of a rational mind… However, might he have seen himself, sitting on his camping chair and laughing maniacally as he hit the—big red button, a distant gleaming ray of energy falling from the heavens and disintegrating a tiny four-legged mammal with long ears and a fluffy tail, a small, distant piece of his mind—might have stopped to consider the supervillain-esque implications… His spy drone… he would have to make a name for it… would scout the entire region with both traditional and thermal optics, easily identifying creatures below. His disintegrator would track the target and wait for his orders to fire while his two scuttler bots prowled on the ground, moving like hunting dogs.

Sadly for his scuttlers, they were technically the most vulnerable… however, Arthur had made sure to equip the little guys with beam-blades. In truth, their only purpose was to retrieve the valuables, Arthur cheating on how large he could make the spidery units by imagining their limbs to be modular, then, following up by simply creating more modular pieces of the same. It was a dirty workaround, but one that worked quite well and that the greater cosmic powers hadn't decided to slap him for. Time-consuming and requirements for assembly aside, it was just one more aspect of it all that proved the things he made didn't have to exactly make sense. More, it seemed to be the universe that was willing to give it all a basic magic handwave to smooth things like the electronic joint right over, which, Arthur was perfectly willing to exploit. If Magic Land didn't care if he played by his worlds rules, then why should he bother with them?

In the end, he watched the feed as the tiny rabbit-like creature was—obliterated from the sky, humane, quick and, most importantly, effective. The scuttlers quickly procured the little creature's soul card, storing the thing away in a cargo hatch before moving on, heading in the direction of his next target. Again and again, like the well-oiled machine he’d designed them to be, his strike team of drones systematically reduced the population of the local marsupials, power unlike this world had ever seen splitting the sky in service to its genius overlord. He could have laughed! He might very well have cackled for a not-inconsiderable amount of time. And, all in all, Arthur had realized he might just have a screw loose of his own…

After a few hours, Arthur recalled them all, unsure really if battery life was something that he needed to concern himself with, or, if they were somehow powered by mana and magic… He didn't really want to need to go hunting for the little things if they just stopped moving so he called it quits when the day was getting dim. Needless to say, he’d managed quite the haul for very little effort… And, he had a fairly good idea of what he wanted to do with his—ill-gotten rewards. Honestly he should crack a beer towards his success! He frankly could have… sitting there, watching as his grass-fed machines made their way back to him, a trove of souls in hand… It was all so—easy… Yet, that was part of the problem, now wasn't it? Easy… Sure, it was true that Arthur hadn't had the stomach to kill his first animal when push had come to shove back during those initial days he’d first entered the wild… He’d choked… been unable to use the knife he’d spent what felt like hours sharpening in preparation… couldn't get over his mind's natural tendency to anthropomorphize and dump his own feelings onto a bird that, in all honesty, probably wouldn't have had much issue with eating him were the tables turned… modern dinosaurs that they were…

Still, he’d let the thing go… then, turned himself into a vegetarian for entire months before the—hunger had really set in… Naturally, this had all been before his setup had really begun to flourish, so, he’d supplemented his, then, meagre harvest with as much foraging as he could manage. The next time he’d set out his traps, stomach growling and face gaunt with nutritional stagnation, instinct born of his body's needs had allowed him to overcome his predilections on the matter… Since then, animals hadn't held the same—innocence to him… at least when it came to wild ones. Pets who were members of families were easy enough to exclude and categorize of course but, beasts? Savages beyond the walls of civilization? Simple.

Yet, he’d never killed simply for the sake of killing. Trophies weren't what spurred his interest; body-counts hadn't ever felt that impressive… When he took a life, he tended to only do so out of a personal need for a creature's body. Meat, fur, tendon and bone… Much of an animal could be used to great effect if one had a mind to make it so. Again, Arthur didn't necessarily like violence, but he wasn't above employing it when necessary. Now, however, blinking as the thrill of seeing his creations in action subsided, Arthur felt a subtle wave of melancholy slip over him as a weighted blanket.

Yes, what he’d just—done, when he really thought about it, wasn't exactly—morally upstanding… hell, back home, as—weird as it was to think about, people would likely look upon his slaughter of entire scores of tiny, fluffy animals as—psychotic… And, maybe it was… Maybe the—detached glee he’d felt while sitting, watching as his machines—killed for him was just the tip of a very problematic iceberg…

“It was too easy…” Arthur reiterated, chewing on a lip before he felt whatever euphoria born of any excitement—fade in light of a glaring issue.

Honestly, it had almost felt like a game… seeing things through the altered-reality display… well what was done was done… and, at the very least, his actions had manifested for a purpose… Still, that didn't mean his good mood had, if not soured, then certainly stumbled. He rose, feeling somewhat done with the whole card business at the moment, deciding he needed to direct his attention elsewhere while his mind worked through the roadblocks it had managed to place before itself. Instead, Arthur shifted gears, standing and, stretching while peering around his impromptu campsite with mild disdain.

Things were—a mess. Though he’d only been here for a few days, Arthur had been so caught up in it all, the demons, his new and strange powers, the constant threat to his freedom and life… “Yeah, time for some housework buddy…”

He began by heading inside and dealing with the mess that Dianna’s daughter had left him with. Pulling off the soiled sheets of his bed and tossing them in the small washing machine, throwing in a bit more soap than he typically did now that—supplies weren't going to be an issue going forwards… He vacuumed, picked up the dozens upon dozens of errant wrapper bits scattered about, had himself a shower and a shave, took care of—other more personal business then set about making something for—well, dinner at this point… Sadly, his chickens were gone; however, he still had quite the supply of eggs in his fridge so, he decided on an omelette, regardless of the hour, and even threw in a—magical egg for curiosity’s sake alone. Much like the beer, there didn't seem to be much difference, at least, not from what he could tell… It made him question if he could, perhaps, create a fertilized egg and—incubate it to start replenishing his coop… Then, he sort of mentally smacked himself for the thought. What after all, would be the point of raising chickens when he could just—make his own magical eggs? Still, the idea simmered in the back of his thoughts, leaving Arthur wondering if he could—create life… What would happen if he imagined up a full-grown hen? Would he simply get its—lifeless carcass? Or, would he be able to shove a soul into it and, actually manage a form of poultry homunculus indistinguishable from the real thing?

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Maybe, for his sanity's sake, it might be best to avoid trying to play god… at least until he was more grounded than he already was. Honestly, Arthur felt like a stiff breeze might knock him over for all his foundation felt as though it were made from cards… and not the magical kind… bad pun not intended… All the acting and chest puffing, the forced bravado and—nerves of it all… all of it was just—taking its toll. He needed a break, needed a return to normalcy and deviation from all this—chaos… Then, Arthur smiled. Well, he did enjoy his little projects when the inspiration arose in him, and, as the young man stared at the pan he was currently oiling, then, gazed around him, glazed eyes taking in the—tiny kitchen he was working with, an idea began to bloom in his mind.

Instead of cracking the egg before him, or using any of the leftover peppers and onions he’d stowed away in his fridge, Arthur instead focused his will on the latest card that had captured his fascination. Instead of an egg or, block of cheese or sausage link as he’d initially envisioned making, he this time, more simply pictured what he’d intended to be the end result of it all rather than the individual parts of the whole. Happily tossing in the various ingredients he’d prepared to hasten along the progress without real rhyme or reason to what he was doing, before, as if by magic, a perfectly cooked and still steaming omelette appeared on the plate he’d prepared for it. If looks could make a man salivate all their own, then the smell wasn't at all needed… though, its presence made the whole presentation that much more—irresistible. Hesitantly, he took the fork he’d pulled from the drawer and, carved a small piece of the near artwork-made food, bringing the bite to his lips before—sheer disappointment! Arthur frowned, chewing on the morsel for several, contemplative moments, mulling over the somewhat dull and muted flavour before swallowing and, staring at his creation with an annoyed click of his tongue. It wasn't—horrid… and certainly not inedible by any stretch of the imagination… yet, the contrast between flavour and exhibition was… utterly underwhelming…

Frowning, Arthur pulled out yet another plate, this time dreaming up a truly Michelin star meal he knew to be rich with flavour, the familiar shape of an award-winning beef-wellington, hot, sweltering and filling his nose with delight, appeared before him. Again, Arthur procured himself a taste and again found his expectations—trampled in the dirt.

“I'm not going crazy here, right?”

For a moment, the young man wondered if his taste buds were acting up, fingers reaching for a sliver of red onion he’d grown with his own two hands, slipping it between his lips as an explosion of spicy flavour popped in his mouth, so potent as to cause his nose to immediately clear.

A moment later and Arthur was using magic to transmute a new brilliant purple onion, and, as before, once it was finished, finding that it was—utterly bland… Well, perhaps a baby might find the disastrously subtle flavour to its own palate’s delight but… for him, a man who’d found more joy in cooking and, cooking well than he’d of ever initially envisioned as a boy, his attempts at magic food had thus far been, worthless.

Curious now, Arthur used his food and water card to summon a loaf of bread, the thing largely superfluous at this point all things considered but, finding that not only was it not at all appealing or, even warm, but that it was in point of fact stale. More than that, Arthur was pretty sure that dollar-store croutons had more—life to them than whatever miserable excuse the crusted wasteland before him could manage… Clearly, he still had a lot to learn when it came to these things, but, that didn't exactly stop him either. If Arthur was said to be anything in life, then it was a gourmand. His mother had always had a certain bizarre intensity when it came to her time in the kitchen, and though he hadn't ever really understood it when he was younger, he certainly did so now.

“So, making food with magic is clearly off the table…” Arthur mused, sighing in consternation as he did so. “But, what if we were to say fuck you and create a card capable of adding some much-needed flavour to the equation.”

So saying, Arthur took the food and water card and, delved back into the mist. He returned no more than a few moments later, a new card in hand. Though, unlike most of his other more—eccentric creations, nothing had sought to put much of a limitation on his latest endeavour as it had the others. Simply put, his new card worked with as plain language as he could feasibly manage.

“This card allows the user to create food from magic that will possess the flavour of what it replicates.” Simple, or so he thought.

Again, Arthur used the card to manifest a glorious omelette that would make breakfast enthusiasts the world over green with envy and ravenous with hunger. H-however, the first kink in Arthur’s plan arrived when he got first-hand experience of what a fairly normal, underranked and underleveled card was capable of within such a—specific scope.

The—thing that appeared on his plate was a charred and hopeless abomination… the acrid scent of burnt egg and—carbon filling the room as the questionable slop before him waited, somehow burnt, somehow wet, the thing existing as though to spite his own machinations. Arthur couldn't have even called what he saw—food… hell, he didn't even want to degrade his garbage compactor with its—vile presence, instead opting to toss the thing outside and into the firepit for good measure… Then, he eyed the latest addition to his repertoire of cards, nearly glaring as he did so while trying to figure out what had gone wrong. A few minutes of internal contemplation later and Arthur suspected he had a fairly decent guess of it… figuring that the rank of the bloody thing like as not was playing a significant role in its abilities. Just as the ice-spear card had been unwieldy, and his time manipulation card was somewhat—well, lacklustre given the field it operated in, so too was his latest culinary invention a clear disappointment.

“Hmph… in all honestly, it wasn't like I was expecting much…” Arthur muttered, annoyed but not at all disheartened. After all, simply summoning food felt—cheap for a man who found genuine pleasure in its creation.

The rest of the day quickly descended into a flurry of further experimentation as Arthur delved headlong into his latest obsession. Trying all manner of combinations and attempts to cheat the system, long into the evening. At some point, Tulla made her appearance known, saving Arthur from wanting to slam his head against the wall as he tried to uncover the difference between why an apple made by his transmutation card tasted like a dry husk in his mouth while beer was as crisp and flavourful as ever! The young girl both deciding to involve herself wholeheartedly in his crazed workshop of flavours, merrily taste-testing whatever Arthur put before her while also offering some much-needed, and to his utter mortification given her age, insight.

“Beer is—alcohol?” The tiny demon had asked, perfectly willing to sample the various unique flavours on offer, shadows of the true thing as they were while Arthur tried his best to break the system in any way he could. When he’d nodded his head in affirmation, Tulla had merely laughed, happily pointing out that alcohol wasn't food, it was poison.

Days passed as Arthur finally reached the apex of his culinary research, managing to find a sort of grey middle ground for his current capabilities and, what he’d wanted to achieve. Honestly, Tulla, as much as she tended to grow bored and, inevitably, drift towards his electronics, had been a near invaluable assistant in his efforts to finally beat the intangible system of souls and magic that he’d seemingly declared war upon.

He found she had a reasonably good palate, one that could easily differentiate between various ingredients once she learned how to spot them, and, in turn, Arthur had taken on the responsibility of feeding the tiny demon as she’d, more or less, worked with him, acting almost as though she were his very own apprentice. For her part, the girl's mother seemed—amenable to the situation as a whole, allowing her daughter to visit, typically once her morning studies had concluded, then returning to retrieve the girl by night. Usually staying long enough to indulge herself in a handful of refreshments while listening intently to Arthur chatter on about his theories and frustrations. Theirs had become a—cordial relationship as their short evenings together carried on, though Arthur was under no illusion that Dianna, chiefly among it all, had been taking a day-by-day approach to whether or not she would continue to tolerate his presence in her daughter's life.

All in all, Arthur found he really couldn't blame her, nor was he necessarily upset that he was essentially babysitting the kid every afternoon… partly because, well, he’d been alone for so damned long that company, any company at all, was, frankly welcome. Yet, mostly, he earnestly felt bad for the girl. It was easy to compare what children of his own family had to entertain themselves with and, what was on offer within a decayed and rundown village and see that what he possessed was entire leagues beyond the fun to be had at home. More, the pair were actually an authentic boon to his efforts as, Arthur reasonably didn't have any other avenue of relevant information he could turn to that was both willing to indulge his questions and, actually give him useful answers. It was give and take. And since neither of the two were dull, Dianna clearly educated to some degree and, her daughter in the process of it, more often than not, it was they who were helping him steer his sometimes rudderless ship… Tulla being the primary contributor sheerly through virtue of her time directly involved.

With all her hard work, Arthur had, internally, decided that he would try and treat the poor girl to some proper cuisine. After having been invited over by Tavir to share a meal several times, and accepting the offer twice, Arthur had come to the unanimous conclusion that food in the village was—unfortunately spartan when it came to variety and—spice. It was why Tulla seemed so enthusiastic, or, so he’d assumed, as she’d offered herself up as guinea pig to his research, but, for the most part, the majority of what he’d accomplished had resulted in failure. That wasn't to say he hadn't learned what he’d needed, only that the end result of his efforts had led to a mostly dead end. That however was about to change. The young man grinned at himself as he stared over his vibrantly colourful garden with a calculating eye. Admiring the myriad of veggies and berries, he’d only previously that week, raised from tiny seeds right to the point of full maturity. This had been his compromise, his victory and the ultimate result of his short dip off the deep end.

While it was true that Arthur couldn't magic up food and make it tasty, at least not without significant investment into a card that, candidly, seemed entirely unwilling to level with any reasonability, just as, annoyingly, most of his more—unusual cards were to improve… It was an issue he had on the backburner for some time, but, simply hadn't taken precedence given his current desires. However, after some extensive testing with mint leaves, Arthur had learned that he could magic a plant into existence within a meticulously fertilized bed of soil, water it, tend to it and apply a soul card designed to encourage the growth of plants one focused on and voila! Arthur could produce all the produce he could ever ask for!

Yes, enhancing the card that allowed him to do as such had been devastating to his supply of gathered souls, prohibitive even, despite the fact that the card had been the easiest as of yet to actually improve. Yet, that hadn't scared him away. Rather, it had only made him bite down and refuse to let go like some rabid pitbull, far too fixated on the blood it tasted to care it was being kicked. Arthur had done it. He’d solved his food dilemma, and though it hadn't happened in the way he’d initially envisioned, a settlement somewhere in the midpoint of it all was an acceptable avenue to a phyric victory that saw everyone involved just a little bit disappointed by the result. Or, so he imagined, after all, it wasn't like he was actually fighting with some—dude sitting up in the clouds who was actively fucking with him...

All the same, Arthur enjoyed cooking, and honestly didn't care that magic wasn't the end-all-be-all solution to every one of life's problems. Furthermore entrenching the notion in his mind that soul cards were, in reality, a sort of cheat or bandaid situation in of themselves for true talent and competency. Case in point being the chef card he’d magicked up to test, which given his already significant capabilities in the kitchen, had been entirely worthless at its lower rank. Truly, he was just happy to have access to fresh ingredients again, though, he’d have to—source a solution to the protein problem, and, specifically, eggs.

That being said, he had more ideas on that little dilemma than the universe probably liked. The second part of his makeshift solution was, unsurprisingly, yet another card. Curiously enough, when he wasn't trying to make something from virtually nothing, reality dealt with him with a decidedly less weighty hand. And, using a soul card to—skip the processing effort of already existing foodstuffs was—not, evidently, within the realm of things considered problematic. Take Arthur’s endeavour with the wheat he’d already harvested and, now, was already in the process of magically being turned into flour. From there, things could get spotty when it came to trying to figure out the yeast part of it all but, as Tulla had previously stated, given it wasn't technically food, Arthur felt like he might manage a win on that particular front. Granted, yeast was, in theory, alive but, beer hadn't been an issue so… who could really say what would transpire? As it happened, and as things currently stood. Arthur’s new focus within the realm of culinary perfection involved a more—daring step toward bold innovation! And his first attempt at such currently waited in his hand.

“Summon familiar—Hen. This card allows its wielder to summon a basic familiar whose capabilities are determined by the card’s tier and rank.”

It was a—stretch of the imagination… a leap in logic that Arthur, while willing to take, had his own doubts over… More, though he’d successfully managed to give the—familiar the singular ability he cared about, regardless of the fact it seemed to count as a combat power, the sole problem with the whole idea arrived by way of its—soul-binding warning.

Yes, much like his own personal card, this latest idea arrived with a hefty price… and one that Arthur wasn't entirely sure he wanted to pay. Especially when he could very well create magic eggs that, in all honestly, when combined with fresher ingredients and spices, didn't seem all that immensely different than the real thing—if he tried hard not to think about it… Still, this had been as much as a test as it had anything else as it wasn't lost on Arthur that his true goal would require him to find a way to make milk and cheese at a—readily available convenience. He had the notion to create a chicken, goat, cow hybrid but, perhaps, the multiverse wasn't ready for such a beautiful abomination… Yet, ultimately, he sighed, admitting that, for once, he might just have found a roadblock that didn't have so easy a solution…

“Watchya doing?” Arrived a familiar and youthfully curious voice that, given the hour, Arthur hadn't exactly been surprised to hear.

Silently pocketing the card in his hand, Arthur reached down to his vibrant garden and plucked a cherry-red tomato from a vine, turning to lazily toss it underhand to the young demon that had so recently landed behind him.

Tulla quickly snatched the bright vegetable from the air without a moment's hesitation, displaying impressive reflexes and hand-eye coordination far in excess of what a child should possess. She stared as though in awe of the thing she’d plucked from the air. The girl lifted it to her nose and, giving it a tentative sniff, her face twitched with uncertainty.

“Tomato?” She asked a moment later, brow furrowing as she did so.”

“Same as what I gave you the other day but… fresh from the gardens as it were.”

The girl eyed Arthur’s rather impressive collection of plantlife with clear suspicion written across her face, gaze rolling over the various examples of edible plantlife as her mind worked to compare what had been a pile of stinky dirt just a few days ago and, what was there now. She didn't take a bite of the offered snack, however, instead, giving Arthur a decidedly flat expression that let him know exactly what she thought of this—latest boondogery.

“Don't give me that look, I’ve already had one, they're fine.”

Tulla sniffed, turning her nose up at the veggie as she eyed the thing wearily. “That’s what you said about that olive you gave me… Worst thing I’ve ever had the displeasure of tasting…”

“Say that back on my world and you’d have an entire region of the planet ready to burn down you're door with pitchforks and torches.”

“And I’d tell them that their tastebuds are all stupid.” Tulla reiterated, falling back on her side of the argument after the debacle that had been olives.

Still, after a moment, she did take a large bite of the tomato, long and exceedingly sharp fangs sinking deep and causing a small explosion of juices to smother her cheeks. Tulla chewed on her small snack tentatively at first, then with growing and modest enthusiasm, enjoying it, despite her prior protest and licking her fingers clean after several eagre chomps. The fact that the tiny girl could appear outright terrifying as she all but greedily devoured the plump morsel was, well, something he was already getting used to…

“Better than old stew?” Arthur asked, chuckling and earning himself a deeply put-upon sigh as the girl’s wings deflated and her shoulders slumped.

“Aunt Cassie’s getting upset with me that I'm not eating her cooking anymore… She keeps trying to push that damned disgusting slop in front of me every morning I don't eat it at night, somehow thinking that’s going to get me interested in it again.” Then, she smiled, the look decidedly wolfish and smug. “She’s got no idea I’ve been eating over here the whole time. Assumes she can starve me out when I eventually get bored of gnawing on bark and bugs, or, whatever else she thinks I'm out feeding myself with. They really don't think very much of me sometimes…”

Wincing a fraction, Arthur plucked a bushel of grapes for the girl and handed those over as well, watching as she ravenously consumed their sweet round forms, even as he felt the need to, as a fellow cook—defend the older demons cooking. “The stew wasn't—that bad…” He stated, actually rather honest about his opinion.

“Oh, sure, it tastes okay, I guess, but come back and tell me the same after you've been stuck eating it for every meal the past several months. She started it when we first left the legions, and it's been cooking ever since…”

“Hmmm, point taken,” Arthur grunted, having himself tried out what was known as a hunter’s pot for nearly a month as well while in the wilderness before he’d gotten tired of the—borg of flavours and fallen back on what he knew best. “Is the whole village more or less stuck with what they hunt and grow then, or, are there any domesticated animals you've brought with you? I could have sworn I heard Cassandra mention cows at some point…”

“It's mostly just deer and foraging really… sure, some people are trying to grow things on their own but, everyone in the settlement is a soldier, not a farmer. Watching them all stumble their way through trying their hands at anything other than fighting is as bleak as it is depressing.”

“That’s—unfortunate…”

Tulla nodded, clearly eyeing another bushel of grapes, to which, Arthur merely waved his hand. Those had been included more from a place of trying to add as many plants as he could think of to his collection than any real desire to eat them himself. They just—weren't really his favourite thing in the world… Taking his approval for what it was, the girl happily collected several bundles of the burstingly plump delights in her arm before snickering to herself as though privy to some private joke. “I should leave a few of these lying around at home for Mom and Auntie to find, they'll be so confused as to where they came from that they will like as not to try and interrogate me for hours.”

The way the girl said it, Arthur would have thought she was getting some fiendish pleasure from messing with her family but, didn't call the kid out on it. Instead, just raising a brow at her and allowing his inner thoughts their privacy. “You're mother will probably manage the answer on her own by the end of the day you know.”

“Hmph, true.” The girl admitted, popping a plump purple grape in her mouth and enjoying the pop it made for her. “Mom really likes coming over more than she lets on. Yesterday, when I left early after my bath to go show off, she was almost moping around that there wasn't an excuse to visit.”

“Don't blame her; the village is probably just as boring for her as it is for you. Plus, I’ve got booze.”

The small demon just looked at Arthur sidelong, not saying much by way of a reply while she continued to systematically reduce the population of Arthurs edible plantlife as the likely rapidly growing child that she was. Honestly, he might have laughed at the ease with which she seemed so willing to gorge on whatever veggie or fruit was in sight. Arthur imagining his mother would have paid a fortune to manage that sort of superpower over her own children when they were younger but, as it happened, all that was required was a distinct lack of anything better to tempt one with. After a time, he sighed, reaching over to mess with the demon's unruly hair, the latter of whom simply took his fussing for what it was and, accepted it while continuing to eat. Her patience on the matter clear.

He left Tulla with a warning that he didn't want any mess inside his home, stipulating that she could raid his garden as much as she wanted but, that she better damned well wash her hands and stay on at the table while she ate. For her part, the girl seemed just a little disappointed that there weren't to be any more interesting food-related experiments for the day but, it was both late, and Arthur was deciding to keep his cards to his chest in this matter. As of yet, the only thing that the demons really knew about him was that he was a strange foreigner from another world. His magic was nonexistent save for whatever Dianna and Tulla had figured out for themselves and told their peers. That wasn't to say what he’d already revealed wasn't something spectacular in its own right, but the extent of his capabilities was a closely guarded secret. Even if he wanted to try and accept the burden that was incorporating a binding card to his very soul, he wasn't sure if it was worth the risk of revealing. Thus far, what he’d done was, while strange and admittedly ridiculous, not that crazy if Tulla’s ability to rationalize it was any obvious sign. However, suddenly possessing the capacity to will domesticated animals into existence was—perhaps, just a step too far.

Honestly, if he could just—trade for what he wanted, Arthur suspected he already had access to everything he’d potentially need to make it worth someone's while. Salt wasn't prohibitive to create from magic, as he’d learned, even if it wasn't granular, and while spices were something of a grey area in his opinion that should be overlooked but weren't in seemingly arbitrary instances from one to the next, he’d already solved the issue with his garden. Managing a collection of herbs to exchange for what he wanted should be simple given what he knew of their value, at least, to more—medieval cultures… Hell, he could cook up a pound of pepper, sugar and cumin, just to name a few, and bundle it all up for sale and, probably command enough buying power to demand a whole coop of freaking chickens… Yet, he was stuck… stranded in the middle of nowhere with no supply lines and no means to easily escape his situation… sure, he could feasibly create any card he so desired but, their capabilities, with a few notable exceptions, were typically worthless as their initial rank and, without access to true power to improve them, his situation was a revolving door of frustration… He still hadn't figured out why some cards seemed so much more inherently powerful than others despite being the same rank and tier but… those were considerations for another time.

“Truth be told…” He whispered, a hand touching his yet to be used to card through the fabric of his jeans. “I never really wanted to be a farmer anyways…”