BANG! BANG! BANG!

Rum woke up to the loud noise of something banging against wood. His head turned to the side, and he saw the closet door, with each bang shaking, violently, and White Rose standing outside it, holding the door shut with one arm and easily.

“Oooaaah” Rum yawned. “Yeah-yeah.” With a still somewhat tired body and head, Rum edged over the bed until his first leg got out of it. Rubbing his face to wake himself up a bit, he just so remember that moment he had a spell for that. Or rather, I don’t know if it’ll work against sleepiness, but I think it will? After all, it was created from black coffee. He put a right-hand finger to his forehead. “Clear Mind.” A spark of faint light-blue magic flashed on his skin surface. Oh yes, this is much better!

He got his second foot on the floor, and stood up, chest high in the air, arms stretching and almost feeling proud of himself, as if getting out of bed had just proven what a very big boy he was.

BANG! BANG!

“Hey, just wait a second Veish.” The closet door grumbled. Rum took it as an affirmative sign, and put a hand to his chest. “Clean Body, Renew Clothes.” Magic whirled about Rum, and within a few blinks of an eye, and a few flashes of magical light, Rum felt fresh, renewed, and wearing a brand new oh-so-comfy cotton robe in some silvery white color scheme, his feet having been decorated with the most perfect of thick silver-white cotton slippers. I feel like I just came out of some luxurious bathhouse!

“White Rose” the skeleton turned zes veiled face at him, “I’m awake now, you can let her out.” White Rose let go of the closet door. “You can come out now.” He said to the closet.

SLAM! The closet doors flung open, revealing the half-crazed look of the witch named Veish. Rum had up until this point never given Veish a proper lookover – and perhaps this time was not the most flattering to do so – yet, Rum glanced her over. Those emerald eyes. That pointy dark red hat, looks like it’s made of multiple layers of linen. Hat and the also dark red robe, both discolored. And is that dirt smears I see? Must be from falling probably. Oh, some fabric tears I see. Hmm, the robe is some linen and cotton mix it seems, the shoulder and chest area look more comfortable than the rest.

“Hey!? Can you not stare at my chest?” The woman stepped out of the closet, an irritated expression on her face. And that face. Her skin looks a bit rough. She looks like she’s been through a lot, not just over the last days, but over years. It’s thick skin, and I can see a little scar at her right cheek. His eyes went down, down to her hand. That ring. I can sense a faint magic enchantment on it. His eyes went to her feet. Brown boots, whether it’s the natural color or the result of use I can’t really tell. They’re clearly oversized, worn out. This woman’s been living poor. He gave her a boots-to-hat full length glance. She’s slightly short, but considerably taller than Elrith Heart-Piercer. She’s a bit skinny too, perhaps. Difficult to know with the loose robe. That long slightly bushy dark hair though, it looks like it hasn’t been treated for years – it’s like I’m looking at some half-feral humanoid creature. Wonder if I looked anything like this when I returned to Ermos? Memories of a time – in fact just some weeks ago, before he could magically clean and refresh himself – flashed in his mind. The discomforts he’d gotten used to then: the torn clothes, the stench, the chills, the wild uncomfortable growth of his beard. The memories of a wild beard made him almost feel lucky he was bald. Though hair is probably useful against the cold, my ears freeze rather easily. His eyes landed on her chest again.

“What are you looking at!?” She demanded an answer.

“That necklase.” He lazily pointed a finger at the twisted humanoid octopus shape resting between her breasts. “It’s very magical. Where does it come from?”

Her face calmed, and she looked at it, a barely detectable fondness overcoming her mood as she gently put a hand under it, letting the jewelry rest on her fingers. “It’s a family heirloom.”

Rum raised an eyebrow. “What kind of a family did you come from, for this weird octopus-like being to be an heirloom?”

Irritation right back at her face, Veish snapped: “WHO ARE YOU TO TALK ABOUT WEIRD! YOU KEEP A WOMAN IN YOUR GOD’S-BE-DAMNED CLOSET!”

“That’s not weird” Rum retorted. But then grabbed his beard, and looked out into the blue. “Or is it?”

“YEAH – IT IS!”

“Well. It might be weird, but it’s necessary.” Rum paused for a second, before getting back to the subject: “What’s the enchantment?” He pointed his finger lazily at the necklase again.

“That’s a secret.” Veish said, a little sour but determined expression on her face, her eyes coming down to look upon it.

“Okay. Well, if you won’t tell me, I suppose I will figure it out myself sooner or later.”

The woman shot her eyes up at him, a new intensity overcoming her: “GET ME OUT OF THAT CLOSET!”

Rum stepped back a foot, quite literally taken aback by the yelling. “But that’s where you have to stay!”

“Well – it’s too small! Nobody can live within such a confined space for DAYS ON END! My whole body feels awful. However comfortable you made the wood, I still have no place to move or rest in a natural position. I’ve got pains all over my body from tonight!” She started shaking limbs, adjusting her shoulder, and then stretching her legs and arms as if to demonstrate painfulness.

“Well, maybe we can take a few items out.” Rum stroked his beard, thinking. “We might be able to relocate a few of them without Amez noticing.”

“That won’t help! Didn’t you hear me, it’s too small! Nobody can live inside there!”

“Nah, not true.” Rum waved his hand in dismissal. “The closet is almost the perfect size. Look: the closet doors are only slightly smaller than the door” he pointed from the closet door to the workshop door. “You can get in and out of it easily.”

“What are you talking about!? It’s too damn small to be INSIDE!”

“Ah. But there you have it: it’s only the inside that’s too small! The closet itself, is, fairly, the right size.”

“What?” Veish looked at Rum with a face of annoyed confusion. “If this is your way of suggesting that we empty the inside, and that this will make it big enough, you are either blind or surely dumb! Why don’t you try and sleep inside there for a night!?”

“I’m not suggesting any such thing.”

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“Then, what kind of an idiot are you pretending to be? If it’s too small on the inside” she mimed a tiny little closet with her hands, “the whole thing is too small!”

Rum put a finger up. “Ah – but no.” He gave a little friendly smile at her frustration and growing incredulity. “We could make the inside bigger, and keep the outside the size it already is.”

Veish shut up. She just looked at Rum, not sure if he was joking or what-on-this-planet he was talking about.

“Let me explain: I once travelled within The Dwarven States. There, I came upon a little dwarven republic called Redratall, and they have a very fine State Library, like really, it is BEAUTIFUL in there. So so so many scrolls and books...” Rum’s eyes grew reminiscent for a second, his mind flying off to a memory far away in time and place. “Anyways” Rum returned his attention to Veish, “I read a manuscript there, where an ancient mage talked about having a bag the size of a couple of melons on the outside, but the size of a mammoth on the inside.”

“Is that really possible?” Veish asked, as much Rum as the air and the world in general.

Only Rum of the 3 was capable of answering her though: “I don’t know for sure, but I believe so, yes.”

“And do you know how to?” Her eyes went wide with interest, and she unconsciously stepped closer to him.

“Well. I have a theory. You see: Reality is quite picky about how we arrange ze. Ze imposes limits upon us in order to confine us to zes plans for how the world should work. That’s how I see it, and I’ve come to be quite acquainted with zes likes and dislikes over the years. It was part of the process for discovering the limits of my own magic. And, I can say: Reality has some very clear and hard preferences. But, and this is my theory: what if we made Reality an offer ze can’t refuse? What if we bribe Reality to turn a blind eye?”

“That’s insane.” Veish frowned. “You sound insane. Reality isn’t a person you can bribe. And how would you even know what Reality wants?”

“Well, I once pondered that question myself: what could Reality want? But I’ve come to think there is one thing ze wants above all: consistency; determinacy. Reality wants the world TO BE, in the most certain sense that any one thing can be anything. To me, it appears ze hates inconsistencies. The only time Reality allows for things to go from being something to not being something, is when ze resolves inconsistencies, and enforces determinacy. And ze does that by the multiplication of things in the world that can balance it out, give reason to why the world is the way it is. Ze provides The Great Excuse: showing us that everything has an explanation. And so, this question: what could we offer Reality that ze can’t refuse? Overdetermination. Surety beyond surety. 110%, 200%, 1000% certainty.”

“Wait? How can something be more than 100% certain? That’s not how certainty works!”

“You don’t think so? I see no reason why it couldn’t work that way. You just take something that will guarantee, with 100% certainty, that something will work, and then you add something else that would also guarantee that the thing works. Together, they are over 100%.”

“What? No!” Veish blurted the denial, her expression frustrated or confused or both. “Only the first 100% would count! And how could there even be 100% certainty for anything? NOTHING is THAT certain!”

“100% certainty is when there are no real conceivable ways for something to fail, I suppose. And if we, for some or all of those ways in which failured has been prevented with absolute certainty, if we on top of some of those ways add additional guarantees, like a line-up of fallback guarantees, then we can have over 100% certainty. Even if the other guarantees are less than 100%, the first 100% will ensure that whatever is contributed by the others, will produce overdetermination.” Rum smiled. Veish just stood there, mouth open, an annoyed incredulity in her eyes and cheeks. She reminded him a little of a goldfish with attitude. “I predict” he continued, “that a localized excess in determinacy may very well pacify Reality enough that ze will look the other way as we break some of zes other rules. We can, in effect, bribe Reality.”

Veish looked at Rum. Rum looked at Veish. White Rose looked at both, from one face, to the other. For several seconds, nobody in the room made any big movements. Finally, it was White Rose that poked Rum in the shoulder, nudging for the conversation to resume. Apparently ze didn’t like observing other people’s staring contests. Maybe that was because White Rose, after all, had the reigning position of supreme champion over all and any staring contests ze’d implicity entered. Which was an ever growing number whenever ze went outside.

Rum glanced at White Rose, and then looked back at Veish, continuing: “So yeah. That’s how it can be achieved.”

“I cannot believe the words that are about to come from my mouth.” And Veish looked down, perhaps unable to meet Rum’s eyes. “It sounds insane. Unbelievably insane. How does a person even come to hold such strange views on the world?” She shook her head, and paused for a second. “But somehow, I can’t help but think” and she snorted a little laugh, “that in some weird sense, the idea sounds too good. Too absurbly plausible not to know if it would actually work.”

“Yeah.” Rum commented, and nodded to himself. And then suddenly let out an “euh”.

Veish, presently delving into her own internal world, got pulled out of her own thoughts by the distracting sound. She looked back at him, his expression foul, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Veish, you smell an orchestra of awful.”

Her eyes shot wide open at first, and then wrinkled an offended expression. “Well thanks for letting me know!” She snapped, taking a couple of steps back.

“Nooo.” Rum let out, and continued to produce a small face of digust. “Come back here. I’ll fix it. I have a spell for this.”

The witch raised an eyebrow again, but perhaps out of curiosity, or remembering Rum’s healing spell, she stepped forward again, and let Rum put a hand to her shoulder. “Clean Body, Renew Clothes.”

Veish’s full attention went from Rum to herself, an expression of uncertainty on her face, or is it fear? Either way, she was captivated by the magic as the unruly hair she’d had since Rum first saw her, untangled itself, gently, becoming smooth, and then silken-like, even trimming itself at the edges, the falling pieces of hair burning up in fiery magic before hitting the floor. The hard pointed hat, meanwhile, morphed, becoming thin, dark blue, and shorter, the pointy tip turning into a half-sphere, perfectly sized to her head. A nice sunblocker. The robe transformed too, turning into a trio of different shades of blue, with highly stylized ocean creatures in silver embroidery along her shoulders, legs and sides. Her skin cleaned up, the boots turning into blue sandals with black bottoms. Not that Rum had seen her toenails before, but now they looked like somebody actually took adequate minimal care of them. The nails at her fingers, which before had been like claws, where now short, efficient. A sparkling light blue belt went across her mid, giving the robe more of a body shape. And good thing there was a belt, because the robe was now open at the front like a jacket – the belt and 3 oversized silver buttons the only things keeping it closed.

The woman before Rum looked as if years had been shaved off her physical development. No longer she looked half-feral, but now more like a modestly clad young noble woman.

“These spells” Rum spoke, as much to himself as to Veish, “are incredible. I rarely think about how they’re changing me. But seeing it change another – it’s just amazing. You no longer look like a wild animal.”

The witch, having been overwhelmed at trying to take in her new appearance; constantly looking, touching and even smelling at all the new pieces of cloth and hair, suddenly stopped once Rum finished his last sentence.

“A wild animal?”

“Yes.”

She looked at him, mouth open, not really even angry. “You sure have a way with words, don’t you, Rum; The Great Mage?”

Rum, never having been great at sarcasm, nodded in affirmation. “Must be because I read so much. One picks up language when one reads.”

Veish rolled her eyes, and then sighed.

“Well. As impressive as that magic was, still... thanks for destroying my clothes.”

“Oh, don’t you think about it. Those shabby pieces of cloth you were wearing were beyond saving, and would’ve only made you a target for questioning her in Ermos. Better to magic them away!” Rum smiled.

Veish didn’t even bother to roll her eyes this time. She just sighed. “Ehhh... so. Are you going to make the closet bigger?” She gestured at the tall wooden structure.

Rum looked at it, a hand soon stroking his beard. “I have a theory for how it could be done... but it may take a few days to fully figure it out.”

“Days?” Veish complained. “It’s awful in there now!”

“I’ll try and think of some temporary solution for this evening.” Rum stroked his beard a little faster, trying to speed up his thoughts.

“Well. If that’s what you need to do, then may I make a request in the meantime? I’m hungry. I’m thirsty. And I’d really like some fresh air and sun.” She looked up at him, face a little sad, and just tiny little bit pleading.

Ah, that’s right: she is in my care. Time for me, it appears, to do some caring then.