Story so Far:
* Peanut officially joins the Starchasers
* Forgemaster Bvalinn agrees to make bullets and pellets for the team and will be discrete about it.
* Alchemist Knarru agrees to be the supplier for gunpowder and other related chemicals for the team.
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S03E05
Post-Quest Rigors (Part 2)
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Autumnhollow, front lawn:
“Baseplate, what’s the SitRep? Over.” Ingrid asked over the radio.
“Starchaser, we're still Oscar-Mike to the hospital. Over.” Zefir replied. He and the mice had left before Gwen, Peanut, and Sammy had driven their wagon out to the streets to do their shopping.
“Oscar-Mike?” Siria asked. She, Kinu, and Kvaris, and Viel had finished their business at Jordi’s Dismantling shop and were making their way to the market to rendezvous with Gwen and Co.
“Oscar-Mike is shorthand for ‘on the move’, one of the many military jargons for fast communication over the radio.” Philia replied, waving to Amalla and Kaolla who were also on their way to the market. The two wolian girls waved back, looking satisfied after seeing how well Ingrid could fight.
Philia then resumed tightening the screws. Ingrid had taken a hit during her sparring session, earning the wolian girls the right to observe the team’s adventures. Philia decided to have the monitor mounted to one of the stout wooden struts.
With one last twist, Philia tried jiggling the bracket and found it was solid. Cecil took the big flat screen monitor out of it’s box. Together with Philia they secured the monitor onto the bracket, both were satisfied at how solid the arm was.
“Still…” Cecil added, chortling as he did “...he finally said the thing! He got to say that Call of Duty line!”
“Zef’s on a roll today.” Ingrid giggled, she had just finished drilling a hole through the wall of the house. In a few minutes, she ran a flexible steel electrical conduit through the hole, this would serve as a protective tunnel for the electrical and ethernet cable that connected the gazebo TV to the house. She then pushed the conduit through PVC pipes, which were already buried into the ground.
Although Cecil was imprisoned inside his arcane dimension he was still able to extend a tendril and grab the cable halfway through. Ingrid waited until Cecil had secured the conduit staples before doing the same on the house’s wall. Then, she began caulking the hole in the wall.
The three of them picked up their coffees in sync and downed it, before Ingrid spoke up and said.
“Gimme a feed, Neith!”
Watching them were Mink and Roofe, who had just come in for coffee. They were joined by Farlan, Kirtus, and Cataline who had also come over to provide their reports of the village to Philia. The four of them watched in fascination as the three otherworlders worked quickly and efficiently over some unknown project. Ingrid, Philia and Cecil answered all their questions without any of the usual technical jargon.
“Information as you know is a powerful weapon.” Ingrid had told Kirtus when she was digging up the small trench that the PVC pipe would go into. “You’re all welcome to come and watch but… well you know how it is in a dungeon… it’s not a pretty sight at times.”
There was a faraway look in Ingrid’s eyes as her mind as all minds do, brought up unwanted memories. This time of the sight of the butchered and gutted tixi mice, heartlessly hanging over the cages of the still-living ones being kept for food.
“Thank the wolian girls for managing to score a hit against Ingrid.” Philia giggled as she carried the big TV, still in its box and laid it on the gazebo.
For some strange reason however, when they had asked Neith to activate the TV. The three of them groaned and moaned in pain and agony as if struck by some extremely malevolent curse, but they quickly laughed, as if accepting they were the victim of a very funny prank pulled on them. Energetic, catchy music began playing while the “Tee-Vee” showed a man with light brown hair and a striped tunic singing and dancing.
___
Meanwhile, on the streets of Teth-Odin:
Zefir and the mice had yet to see the hospital where Iohann had taken the rescued mice to, but the fluffy sheep cleric had already gotten an idea of how Neith was able to tap into their Tac-Cams and Earpieces and told the sentient AI to track her location.
With that, Neith was able to work out the coordinates of the hospital. Using a combination of Iohann’s headset feed, tracker, and a scan of the map; it didn’t take long and Philia’s pride and joy was able to zero in on a good estimate of the hospital’s location and provide directions to Zefir and the mice.
As the team spoke over the radio, Zefir and his party made their way to the hospital along the main streets of Teth-Odin. The streets were wide and clean, the buildings quite tall. A row of gaily festooned poles held up faerie lights, which were carved into perfect spheres. These street lights stood at regular intervals, a metal dome was perfected atop the light-bearing crystal like an umbrella. When darkness fell, the highly-reflective interior of the dome enhanced the faerie lights’ luminosity, keeping the streets bright and cheerful in the city that never sleeps.
Merchant stalls spanned the whole length of every street block, one side facing the avenue of buildings, one side facing the middle of the street. It was broken up into regular intervals to allow foot traffic to cross from the outer lanes and inner lanes and vice versa. Zefir and the mice walked along the lane where the merchant stalls faced the central lane, further to his left was the center where pedestrial traffic merged with hooves and wagons.
On that lane a wagon on the road bearing the banner of Teth-Odin came to a stop, and a tamer with a tabard of the City Guard hopped out of the back, waving his hands rhythmically as slimes and jellies bounced out of the wagon and energetically began rolling along the streets, picking up garbage and dirt. Meanwhile street sweepers with brooms busily kept the streets clean as well, when they saw the slimes and jellies they piled up their gathered detritus so the creatures could pick them up.
Seeing them reminded Zefir why Cecil himself was an oddity; it wasn’t just because he talked and had that flying portal. Cecil didn’t have a “core”, a perfectly round sphere that was like the central organ of the slime. Cecil looked powerful as he lacked that one weakness and the only genus of slime that also lacked a core was of all things, an Elder Slime. Cecil also had a face, though Zefir had seen enough footage in the news to know that Cecil’s “eyes” and mouth were just as easily regenerated as any other part of him. “Ripping” Cecil’s eyes off was as ineffectual as holding one’s hand out to someone’s face for a few seconds to obscure their vision.
A big cube jelly the size of a cargo crate and a beach ball-sized core slid along the street, as it passed by a butcher’s stall, the lion-folk owner tossed the scraps over, patting the big jelly which seemed to respond to him by pumping itself up and down before continuing on.
While Ingrid’s slime friend wasn’t with him, Zefir still was gathering looks his way. The idea of tixi mice as familiars was unheard of. He had seen a few of them during his first year in Terragalia and he first thought of them as the helpful, friendly version of a raccoon with the clout of a capybara or an adorable fluffy dog. He had seen them help in farms and they were given food and shelter in return before the mice eventually decided to move on. Now that he thought of them, he figured that Saber probably decided to head to New Gorpisal to make themselves useful in exchange for treats and that was how they met Ingrid.
He didn’t know it as she had yet to tell the story, but the mice had followed the monster stampede of New Gorpisal, keeping their distance so they wouldn’t be made targets. When Ingrid showed up, the mice cutely waddled over to her, squeaking in a friendly way that melted her heart. The Starchaser quickly started making cute noises as she happily embraced them, and the rest was history.
Now there were fifteen of them, all decked out in lamellar armor and pointed helmets that made Zefir think what Genghis’ Khan’s elite crack squad would wear; sturdy and impressive-looking to let everyone know their boss had power. Dain (and later Bvalinn) made armor for the mice worthy of a Kingsguard. Strapped tight to one shoulder and held steady by that strap in one paw were their rifles. Nobody knew what they were but anyone with common sense could tell that the mice were armed, probably with some good but oddly-shaped staves. For the 189, it was their SCAR-H and M-14’s, for the Iroquois mice it was their AK’s.
Zefir himself was armed. For show he had his short sword hanging from his belt. A pistol was holstered under his open gambeson jacket and left armpit, another was holstered to the right side of his belt. Both of which were hidden from view. A FN P-90 submachine gun hung across his left shoulder and swung on his right side. To everyone else however, they only noticed the short sword’s scabbard dangling from his jacket, his main gun mistaken for some purse or maybe a potion pack. People walking around bearing arms attracted no undue attention, and so the mice at the perimeter of the group had their glaives out. Those on the left flank held their glaives on that side while the mice at the right side held their rifle straps with their left paw across their chest while their right bore the polearm, all of them courteously wrapped in cloth to avoid poking anyone’s eye out. It was like a cage had formed around Zefir’s sides and back as these mice rested their glaives over their right shoulder. Meanwhile the mice marching ahead of him held no glaives, keeping their rifles to their chest, Arthur stood between Zefir and the mice marching ahead, his snout buried on his smartphone as he observed the camera from Neith’s Aquila drone which observed the party from above, discreetly staying out of sight by staying close to the roofs.
Teth-Odin was definitely rolling in money due to the dungeon they had built underneath. It showed in the big busy main avenue he and the mice were currently walking through; the wide avenue was flanked by colorful buildings three to five stories high and not a single roof with dull faded paint, not a single wall with cracked plaster showing the rotting, dirty bricks exposed to the air. No, the roofs were all looking like they were repainted every few months or so, every wall looked like it was replastered or re-tiled.
“Let’s turn right, guys.” Zefir said as one very busy stall was being swamped by eager customers enjoying a kebab on skewers. Arthur squeaked in assent and the group slipped through a break in the line of stalls. They walked by a team of trolls humming along as they performed maintenance on the street-facing wall of one bakery, looking jollier than ever as the sun shined on them. Trolls in Terragaia were tall individuals, rather than turn to stone under sunlight, it invigorated more than a few of their sub-species while others it served as their caffeine or stimulant. All-in-all, every troll had to watch how much sunshine they were getting. A small smile curved Zefir’s lips as he suddenly had the mental image of a bunch of guys with a trowel in one hand and a bottle of booze in another. Most trolls were usually up and about during the night and until noon-time. Any troll seen at high noon was this world’s equivalent of some guy working the night shift. It was different however, for trolls who worked underground or mostly indoors, these folks followed the same hours as most other people.
At least the first two stories of every building in the avenue were clearly marked on the outside as commercial establishments; boasting grand signs, colorful banners, and many had overhanging balconies accessible from an outer staircase. Several extended their commercial space all the way to the third floor while the rest were either lodgings rented out or the homes of the business owners themselves.
He passed by a restaurant on a street corner. Two sides were made of gigantic brick walls, thought it was probably just a veneer, but the other two sides that faced the streets had no walls, only strong, thick pillars of harder-than-steel lumber held up the four floors above, a combination of Terragalian architectural technology and the existence of lumber far beyond that of Earth’s. He saw minotaurs, jodoves, and felmoons along with lizard-like sorians, nobody batting an eye as smoked carcasses of goats, sheep, and pigs hung on the wall. To him it was still puzzling to see, even though he had eventually come to the conclusion that a cow to a minotaur, an alligator to a sorian, and sheep to a felmoon was as removed to them as a monkey was to a human. He had once heard from Philia that in Arek’s homeworld, their equivalent of a Rickroll was a dancing gulan shrimp man grilling big shrimps while singing a catchy song, and in his planet, the space shrimp people saw them like pork.
Not that Zefir, or by his previous life as Dick Wood, would he ever consider eating a monkey, and while he was grateful he’s never seen a cat on the wrong side of the butcher shop, he had learned that a few of the meat he’s had came from this world’s equivalent of a big cat like a lion or tiger. A Var-Tiger to be exact, a huge thirty-foot super predator that needed to be regularly pruned from the wildlife census before they end up upsetting the local ecology. If he were to believe the stories; they were once the escaped pets of some aristocrat trying to look cool in front of his peers. He wondered if Ingrid would try to tame the first one she saw.
They passed through yet another intersection without needing to halt their pace. How the City Guards of any city manage to keep things flowing smoothly was a mystery to him, and he was grateful that not once did he and the mice ever have to stop and wait on account of some traffic jam or a deluge of wheels and hooves hurrying by until some Isekai cop blew their whistle for the perpendicular traffic’s turn to simulate a stampede.
As they walked by some of the vendors, they recognized Zefir on account of him coming along with the Enthana sisters days prior and waved at them. Zefir and the mice waved back.
Some of them jokingly asked if he had slept in.
“Y-yeah…” Zefir said, pretending to look shame-faced, “but it’s alright, because my job is to tend to their lodgings.”
“Oooooh…” said one minotaur lady selling fruits, her bovine rumble comforting, “so that’s what you kids call it nowadays…” she smiled as Zefir picked the best-looking pears and oranges he could find. He wasn’t sure what the mice in the dungeons’ diet was, so his other concern besides dealing with malnutrition was scurvy.
“Call what? Oh!” Zefir asked, but then realized she was insinuating that his role for that party of all girls was feeding both of their mouths.
He smiled and puffed his chest. “It’s an obligation!”
The minotaur laughed and gave him a discount.
___
Meanwhile, at the Teth-Odin Grand Market:
Kinu, Kvaris, Siria, and Viel had finished their business at Jordi’s dismantling shop, having settled for a good amount that would allow the party to rest and eat well for a week while doing nothing.
Upon hearing the figure, Ingrid addressed everyone on the radio.
“Does everyone find this acceptable?” Ingrid asked. “Iohann said there’s eighteen mice, and they all look enthused to join us. It will take a while to arm and equip all of them. While it looks like King Fish had made a lot of guns, they will need to be appropriately modified and trained.”
“It’s a good investment.” Kvaris said, “We can write to the guild regarding our paused activity.”
“We’ve done something exceptional.” Siria said “We’ve wiped out a whole nest and rescued many, a week shouldn’t hurt, and considering how more mice with guns would definitely help our fighting strength, I’m sure that guildmaster Tibbles will understand.”
“Pffft!” Ingrid was in the middle of drinking and was now coughing up from the coffee that came out of her nose “A-anyway, I hope it won’t come to waiting a week but I will prioritize King Fish’s well-being.”
“Kitty-Five and I can help with the enchanting work, it’s exhausting sure, but a fun and interesting process.” Siria said.
“Agreed!” Viel piped up.
“I can give it a shot.” Zefir volunteered “My hobby back in Ontala village also involved enchanting things, I’m no expert sure, but I see there’ll be parts that are easy to work this, I can handle those…”
“As do I…” Selphie added “King Fish uses mana-treated treantwood, that would definitely fall into my domain.”
“Thanks everyone.” Philia said, “But Starchaser’s right, let’s not hurry this process, it’s not about the speed, let’s do this accurately and safely. Alright?”
“In that case…” Ingrid said, everyone could hear the sound of her boots clomping onto the wooden floor of the gazebo and the coos of the larkirk doves. “I will personally write a message to the guild letting them know we’re taking a couple of days off to upgrade our equipment.”
“It’s settled then,” Kvaris said “We take the day off, prepare ourselves for a deeper plunge into the dungeon when we return.”
“Speaking of which, where are you headed off to now?” Ingrid asked as she began writing.
“Chapelle’s, an old war buddy of my old man. He’s got a shop here.” Kvaris said “Bvalinn’s already swamped with our orders for bullets pellets, and according to King Fish, more mice armor, glaives, and knives. Seeing as there’s shadow mice, I’ll see if I can find some weapons they can use to fight up close and personal...”
At the market, Gwen, Peanut, Sammy, Amalla and Kaolla, met up with the quartet from the dismantling house. The wolian girls had completed their sparring with Ingrid and were thoroughly impressed at her strength and skill. Now finished, they had hurried over to relieve Sammy after Kvaris said she wanted to bring her along to a family friend who dealt in weapons and armor. Philia had considered making an order for the mice’s brooches but decided that until Ingrid had come up with the names there was no sense making an order yet. As such, it made sense to have another smithy deal with the girls’ armor, and considering this was a good family friend to the Enthanas, Ingrid agreed for them to have their weapons and armor serviced there.
Chappelle’s Arms Emporium was a cozy-looking store occupying a corner. It was more of a high-end boutique, with many of the wares enchanted and all of them at the very least made to impress. The proprietor himself was at the counter, a scarred, one-eyed crocodile-folk who made a pleased guttural sound as he saw the pups of his dear wartime buddy all grown up and friends with what could only be the banner-rider of an orc tribe. After a perfunctory greeting and catching up, Chapelle made a genteel crocodilian rumble in this throat thoughtfully as Kvaris mentioned shadow mice.
“Amaduscia and I have seen such mice during our youth.” Chapelle told them. They all sat inside his office, enjoying the tea his secretary, who frequently had to deal with orders by letter had prepared “from what we’ve seen I wouldn’t say it’s not too strenuous but the cost of teleporting does have its limits and can exhaust the mice. I would recommend one such mouse to hang back and maybe use a crossbow and fight at a distance.”
“We currently have four mice that engage the enemy with glaives, appropriately shortened for the mice of course.” Kvaris told him. “but still long enough to let them fight from a safe distance. Our leader is currently considering the idea of having the shadow mice fight alongside these glaive-wielding mice.”
The crocodile thought for a while.
“If you’re interested I can, for a price, make pike-cleavers for these mice. I’ll even give you wands of duality on a discount and a free dagger to make it easy to stow away..”
“Pike-cleavers?” Kinu said. “You mean those really long greatswords you and father used in the battle of Lanfar pass?”
“Not the exact swords no, but one scaled down for the mice to use. Even then, it will still give them excellent range, just not as long as the glaives that you mentioned. For these mice I’ll craft a very heavy Orihalcum-Stellarheart alloy blade. I’ll give them a pommel that doubles as a Nixie weight charm, it negates the weight of the sword as far as it’s concerned with the wielder. To them, it’s as light as swinging a thin stick of the same length. For others trying to fence with the mouse, the sword’s weight still applies.”
“In other words, it’s like the mice have enhanced strength and weight when using this sword.” Kinu said.
“Exactly. Then on the rain-guard I’ll install a soulstone core, with a globe of protection spell on it. This allows the mice to charge in and start swinging with little to no consequence for a while, then, they can use their ability to teleport away before they get overwhelmed. The only question now is if you can train the mice to fight with them properly. I’ve never seen Tixi Mice use anything more sophisticated than a club or an axe they picked up…”
“Our mice can.” Kinu assured him. “Our artificer has developed some interesting weapons from her homeland and our mice have been fastidiously keeping them well-maintained. They’ve also practiced their fencing with each other with little prodding from us, they will learn to use these swords without issue, I’m sure.”
“Very well, now I just need to know how tall the mice are.” Chapelle said, Kvaris stood up and then lowered her open palm to give an estimate.
“I would say about this tall, let’s be generous and say a little lower than this…”
A couple of minutes later, the girls had taken off all of their armor and weapons for Chapelle’s best and trusted assistants to sharpen and recondition. As the garm girls and the crocodile-folk resumed catching up, Sammy touched her earpice and spoke quietly, giving Ingrid an update.
“Sounds pretty good.” Ingrid said “my original plan was to equip the shadow mice with shotguns. Take them. The combination of the globe of invulnerability, as you describe it, and the excellent reach of the sword, compounded by their enhanced strength and weight will make them excellent for cutting down multiple opponents while the protective spell holds. Before it runs out, the mouse can just teleport back behind the golden mouse clone and resume shooting.”
“Understood, we’ll have it done.” Sammy said. She looked up and signalled to the Enthana sisters. Kvaris nodded.
“Let’s have those swords done, and the wands of duality with daggers.” Kvaris said. “Anything special with them?”
“That’ll cost you.” Chapelle replied “But yes. Since you mentioned the ones using these are shadow mice, I have a soulstone I can install with the Misdirection spell. It turns the user invisible while creating an illusion of them moving in the opposite direction. The ones I have are quite of a dud, it’s a tricky spell to work with after all. It doesn’t last long but it’s fine; its true value is to allow the mice to quickly reposition themselves… now the price for all of that is…“
“We’ll take it. Make four of them.” Kvaris said, nodding as the crocodile smiled “These are worthy investments, also, you can make the blades a little longer since they can just instantly swap with daggers…”
___
Meanwhile, in front of the Church of Saint Ygris:
While Sammy and the Enthanas were at Chapelle’s shop, Zefir now looked at the front gate of the Church of Saint Ygris. A metal fence painted black stood tall, highlighed by the towering bushes bearing colorful flowers. The gate was made of the same wrought iron-like material and yawned wide open, letting visitors come and go as they pleased. To the left and right of the entrance were two statues that looked straight out of a Japanese temple, two fierce-looking Nio-like guardian deities stared down at all entering and leaving, their expressions seemingly shifting depending on the viewer. The popular folk-story goes that all who pass by with a pure heart see encouragement and determination on their compassionate faces. The injured, sick and dying find their firm expressions one of mercy and comfort. Those who go with ill aim find their fierce expressions intimidating; warning them that such behavior will not be tolerated in this hallowed ground.
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“Destination confirmed, calibrating map of Teth-Odin…” Neith said over the radio.
“Deviation?” Philia asked.
“Deviation?” Viel parroted, not understanding the context.
“A good ten percent, taking into account a lack of solid means to get an aerial view of the city.” Neith replied. “The map is accurate, Kitty-Five.”
“I see!” Viel said.
They stopped at a plaza across the street from the hospital, it reminded Zefir of the post-mass Sunday plaza back in his old hometown where it always looked festive on a mid-morning weekend in an attempt to catch the parishioners as soon as they flocked out of the church. He looked down as the mice started tugging at his legs and pointing excitedly at the food stalls.
Zefir crouched down and patted the mice who were squeaking something to him.
“You guys hungry?”
The mice shook their heads, but pointed at themselves and to the hospital, squeaking softly as they did.
A bulb went off at Zefir’s head.
Of course! He was lucky that he never needed to be in a medieval fantasy hospital yet, but he had a sneaking suspicion that this world probably was the same when it came to hospital food. After all, he had once sailed across the ocean several months ago, the destination was fortunately an island a few miles into the sea, quite visible on a clear day. The trip lasted a few days and just like an airport back on Earth, the port authorities were a soulless, humorless bunch who didn’t take too well to his attempts at small talk, earning him a gruff sigh from his Saint Bernard boss.
Smiling, Zefir got up.
“Alright guys! Let’s get some food! Pick what you guys want to eat...if the rescued mice see you eating them, then they’ll know it’s good.” Zefir said excitedly.
The mice responded happily, squeaking in joy and jumping up and down. Like excited children, the mice held his hands while others gently pushed him to the stalls, making the vendors chuckle in amusement as they saw the group. It gave more than a few the impression of excited children bringing their dad to them so they could have tasty treats.
___
The forecourt of the Church of Saint Ygris reminded Zefir of his trip to Venice years ago, Zefir glanced at his wristwatch and noted that the church itself was on the north side of the forecourt, a big relaxing garden lay in the west while the hospital to the east.
Along the southern wall of the church precincts were stalls selling incense and other votive offerings for the regular parishioners and pilgrims from afar. To the northwest corner was a huge stylized grotto where many visitors were laying offerings. Warriors knelt, holding out their swords and prayed fervently for the strength to defend their friends and family. Mages did the same with their staves and prayed to keep their minds sharp, even clerics from other faiths knelt before the image of the saint and prayed silently for fortitude. Zefir looked and saw some knights lay their standard on the hallowed ground near the grotto along with hundreds of others, while some hung a shield on a rack. Lovers made solemn declarations before the grotto, parents knelt and embraced their children as they quietly vowed to shepherd them in their life. Fathers-to-be lightly embraced their pregnant wife’s bellies, promising to see to it their child will grow healthy and strong. Night Men reverently took off their helmets and bowed, their white skulls gleaming and their spectral eyes burning intensely, only to step back and be pestered for autographs from young warriors seeking to emulate the glories they attained in their life.
Curious, Zefir stepped up to the church where a woolly gnu priest made a solemn, guttural throat-sung hymn.
“He who has something to protect behind him will not falter.
Fear will not grip he who has someone to protect.
Stray not to the Golden Abode while you draw breath,
for until the Gods have brought you to stand Judgment before them,
the fire in you must burn completely until it has run out.
I tell you, even the slightest spark can light the grandest of fires.”
Some of the the people around Zefir drew their swords or daggers, while those already holding them such as spears all held their weapons in front of them and genuflected. Zefir drew his short sword while the mice up front unshouldered their rifles and followed suit.
A thrum of comforting energy radiated from the altar.
“Stand, stand with strength. Stand between those who wish to unjustly harm those behind you. Be the shield of those who cannot protect themselves…”
___
Meanwhile, back in Autumnhollow:
Ingrid sat back in the gazebo, leaning back on the chair and caressing one of the big larkirk doves, happily cooing on her lap. Cecil stuck himself out of his portal, making soft adorable sounds as one of the doves nested on him, cooing happily as well.
Ingrid, Philia, and Cecil had gone into the house earlier to fish out more of the Elion-Nosco princess’ stores and took out a big flat-screen TV and installed it into the gazebo and wired it to the house.
They were now testing it out, and Philia had also installed a camera, mic, and speakers.
Their first order of testing it out was getting Neith to connect the screen onto her computer and make a video call with Arek Ixilos.
In a few seconds, the man-sized terrestrial lobster that was Arek was looking back at the screen while Ingrid and Philia waved at him. Cecil, still happily basking on the cooing pigeon’s warmth, extended a long tendril and waved at the TV.
After listening to the latest updates, the alien gulan thought for a moment, his mandible clicking around in thought.
“So basically you wanted to honor Peanut’s fallen friends and want to dress for the occasion wearing the decorated honors you’ve earned as Starchasers.” Arek said.
“Pretty much, yeah.” Ingrid said “Also, there’s value in showing up in full dress uniform in certain functions.”
Arek was silent for a moment, occasionally munching on chicken nuggets.
“You know, rather than copy the medals and honorary dress uniform you two were… quote-unquote ‘buried’ in, I could just send them over.” Arek said in response to Ingrid’s question.
Philia, who was at the gazebo with Ingrid and Cecil, knotted her eyebrows in surprise. “How’d you grab them?”
“Star Tulip gave them to me.” Arek said. “There was some drama after little Cecil vanished, you three are quite the demand you know? A lot of kleptomaniac hands wishing to grab the honorary uniform and real medals of the three heroes that saved Riverdale. You uhhh… three have been ‘transferred’ to the National Museum of the United States Army.”
“The empty caskets or our regalia?” Philia asked.
“The latter.” Arek said. “Star Tulip had duplicates done, they weren’t exactly unique medals after all… I mean, Purple Heart, Medal of Honor, Distinguished Service Cross, Defense Distinguished Service Medal, Achievement Medal… there’s a market for those, you know? She handed those to me on the condition I was able to get some guys to fabricate dupes in time and well, your space shrimp delivers. I’m not the Galaxy’s fastest huckster for nothing.”
“Talk about lucky…” Ingrid remarked.
“It's a consequence.” Arek corrected her. “Neith and Cecil go missing, the government freaks out. Someone leaks the news and now people get emboldened claiming they found him, people trying to pilfer your medallions for internet clout…and let’s not forget the shit that went missing because of a certain Elion-Nosco Princess…”
“Awkwaaaard.” Philia said in a sing-song voice.
“Yeah, everyone’s thinking some other country’s got something to gain by doing this.” Arek said. “So there you go, I’ll send them over. Kaguya listened in to your radio chatter and suggested I also go get you guys some ball bearings, they’re the same size as the pellets you’ve been using. I got one full crate coming up.”
“I did base the pellets off of ball bearings.” Philia remarked.
“And apparently we need shotguns.” Ingrid said “You got any semiautos? None of that pump-action, one-shell at a time, please.”
“Kaguya?” Arek said. There was a short melodic chime and his sentient AI replied.
“Fosstech Origin-12, magazine-fed, modified select-fire for semi-auto and full auto.” The AI named Kaguya replied. She showed on-screen what looked like a submachinegun with a telescoping butt-stock and foregrip. “How many do you need?”
“Four.” Ingrid said quickly. “Our golden mice are capable of generating clones of themselves. I plan to have them shadowed by another mouse armed with a combat shotgun since those work well in mid- to close ranges. Kinda like the tercios back in the 15th Century.”
“I swear Ingrid,” Iohann chuckled over the radio, “you’re like a scholar of war.”
Philia giggled “She even read that cone-hat book called the ‘Anarchist’s Cookbook.’”
The radio waves were flooded with chuckling and snickering sounds, the idea of Ingrid delving into cone-hat territory of knowledge just sounded so ridiculous. The same Ingrid that utilized her mana in ways that were considered impossible.
Ingrid held up her hands in exasperation “Gotta start somewhere…”
“Either way, tomorrow I’m going to be very busy it seems.” Philia said “but yeah Arek, send those over. It’ll prolly take a day or two to get them refitted…”
“I’ll do you one better,” Arek said. “Not mythril but it’ll do in a cinch, Elamorian Compound Alloy. It’s rated to withstand quite a bit of abuse, they use it for suppressive-fire MG’s for factions that still favor ballistics, old tech dies hard.”
“How many shots are we talking about?” Ingrid asked.
“Kaguya?” Arek asked in response.
“If you use Terran ammunition, it would probably require a few tens of thousand rounds on rapid fire. Heat dissipates pretty quickly due to the molecular structure of the Alloy. Considering this is a semi auto shotgun, you’ll never get that to happen.” The AI replied. “At this point, you only have to worry about adding that enhancement lens and magic drum magazine.”
“Sounds good, what do you think, King Fish?” Ingrid asked. Philia nodded.
“Alright, now about the uniform…”
“Give us the Shojo Kantai cosplay uniforms, Arek,” Ingrid said, referring to the gacha game cosplay he kept locked away because Athena had deemed them too embarrassing. “Gotta look the part.”
“Right.” The gulan said, his mandibles clicking again. “Oh and, as much as you’re a fan of oddball guns, I think it’s better that everyone’s pellet guns match. So I got…” Arek leaned over to the side and pulled up a very distinctive looking gun. “Thirty Heckler & Koch G36’s for you.”
“Whoa!” Ingrid said, there was something rather different about the guns though…
“I had these shipped in from Braxis-2, that’s a couple of light-years away. I know this Aenorsian buddy of mine who’s into making “ancient” ballistics. As you know, Earth’s a no-go zone so the people in outer space have no idea… Anyway, first noticeable change, no more folding butt stocks! It’s telescoping now, baby!”
“Nice!” Philia said “That’ll work really well for our mice.”
“And for those obnoxiously tiny dual sights I replaced them; flip-top reflex sight on top for short to mid-range combat, and the bottom sight’s been upgraded for long range takedowns, and the kicker, drum mags capable of holding 2000 rounds! And best yet… this is space steel, baby! It can take constant shooting!”
“We’ll take them, thanks Arek!” Ingrid said gratefully.
___
Church of Saint Ygris:
The bullywug receptionist croaked thoughtfully as Zefir came up to the counter. There was a look of recognition in his eyes as he looked at the tixi mice cosplaying as Genghis Khan’s shock troopers.
“Good afternoon!” Zefir said in his best employee-to-a-visiting-site-inspector voice, “I represent the Whales from the Fenrir guild, I believe Sister Iohann…”
The frog croaked, beckoned with his hand as he leaned forward. Zefir obliged and the frog leaned closer.
“It’s Mother Iohann now.” The frog said, his voice “just yesterday, her bishop circulated a memo regarding her upcoming ordination in a month’s time. All of it’s been in the quiet.”
Zefir looked up to him in surprise. “Why does this have to be in secret though?” he asked quietly.
“That’s in the letter too,” The frog croaked quietly. “Whatever righteous deed the Whales have done is currently being kept in confidence.” he straightened up and then resumed speaking in his normal volume, reverting back to a bored employee tone “take the grand staircase three floors up, then a right turn immediately. It’s room 426. Blessings, brother.”
“Blessings to you too, brother.” Zefir said. The mice lightly bowed in response and they quickly jogged up the steps.
“All in the quiet huh?” Ingrid remarked over the radio. “Does this have something to do with the attack on the guileheads back in Irons?”
“Oh right...” Iohann said “thanks for reminding me, I was tending to the mice and I hadn’t had to the time to look up the letter. I think it did have something to do with it. After all, we uprooted a den of evil.”
“I’m not sure how this works,” Ingrid said “but I hope that doesn’t mean you need to break away from the group to say mass.”
“That’s not how it works, Starchaser.” Philia said “Churches like Ygris need you to be a curate with some years in the parish to do services. She’ll be more of a missionary of a traveling preacher with the promotion.”
“You’re quite learned with these matters, King Fish.” Iohann remarked.
“I am, because I’ve considered passing off as a cleric if I didn’t meet Starchaser.” Philia replied “Also, the rituals of the Church of Saint Ygris are quite similar to mine from my old world.”
As they spoke, Zefir and the mice continued climbing the steps. Seeing less of the faith and hope found in the church and more of the grim reality of what to expect in a hospital. On one landing a small group of adventures huddled, weeping inconsolably while a nurse gently comforted them. Zefir and the mice moved on quickly, catching snippets of their conversation. Apparently the now deceased patient at least had some words to pass on before he finally succumbed to his wounds.
“How were the mice?” Ingrid asked.
“Starvation, weakness, and catching a few diseases while their bodies were weakened.” Iohann replied “the ones with disease have had it mostly suppressed…”
“You can’t just scrape pathogens off of the body, Starchaser.” Philia explained “or you’ll scrape off your own cells too. Most healing magic involves overloading the body’s healing factor, but the patient still needs calories, energy to deal with the massive influx of WBC and Killer NT Cells...”
“What’s a dubba-yu bee-see?” Kinu asked, joining in the call.
“White Blood Cells, they’re tiny little parts of us, in our blood, they track any and all impurities and devour it.” Ingrid replied.
“And if you overload your body with too much healing magic, guess what happens?” Philia asks.
“I have a bad feeling they’ll turn indiscriminate.” Cecil ventured.
“Bingo.” Philia said “as I’ve said before, this isn’t a welding job, this is brick-laying.”
“The good news is that the healers’ diagnosis is that most of it not all of the mice have a great chance of recovering well enough to walk tomorrow.” Iohann added. “Nobody’s broken any bones or have sustained any serious injuries…”
Zefir knocked on the door of Room 426 before opening it, holding the door open for the mice to file in. As Ingrid’s mice entered, they took off their helmets and made friendly squeaking sounds to the rescued mice.
Zefir closed the door and saw Iohann slumped on an armchair, happily cuddling with a pair of mice and stroking their backs, the mice were gently squeaking and their tails slowly wagging. The felmoon cleric looked very happy. Zefir sighed in relief, seeing that Iohann’s relaxed state meant that none of the mice’s health were in any critical condition.
“You alright, Iohann?” Zefir asked, she looked tired but happy.
“Just a little spent.” Iohann said, but her voice sounded satisfied.
The room they were in reminded him of a convent. On an alcove on the wall was a shrine devoted to one of the holy men of the Church of Saint Ygris. The alcove was flanked by trailing banner bearing holy symbols and prayers of comfort. Opposite the alcove, a portrait of another saint cast a comforting gaze on the room’s occupants, set against that wall was a small altar with votive offerings in the form of incense and flowers. Two big beds stood side by side, their accompanying small tables bearing various potions and medicines.
More than half of the mice were up and about, and a third of those looked very energetic. The rest of the ambulatory mice waddled about sedately, some pausing to sit down on the floor as if struck with fatigue. Then there were the still-infirm mice. They were laid on their bellies on the bed, stretched out with an adorable but sad expression on their faces. As they saw Zefir and the other mice enter the room, the weak mice let out a soft squeak and slowly wagged their tails.
“Ingrid’s love for fluffy, friendly creatures is starting to influence me.” Iohann said dreamily. One of the mice she was cuddling with looked up and squeaked happily, and it rubbed noses with her.
“Hugging cute things heals the soul.” Zefir said, he and his mice held up their bags “Who wants some foooood?”
At that, Ingrid’s mice quickly waddled over to the rescued mice and laid on the floor the foodstuff they bought from the merchants across the street. Ingrid’s mice took a bite first, eating with gusto to show that the food was good. Zefir took a bite as well, to help with the bonafides, then provided some to Iohann and her two mice.
Then, Zefir went over to the infirm mice. Zefir held out one of the little pies and took a small bite, showing it was safe to eat, before laying it down in front of the limp, weakly moving mice. The first mouse licked his hand first, as if to thank him and then began to eat, tail slowly wagging as Zefir comforted it by stroking its back. He repeated the process with the others, making sure all of the still-infirm mice were fed.
“What about medicines, Iohann?” Zefir asked, comfortingly patting one weakly squeaking mouse.
“Took a while to get them to drink it, it does not taste good after all.” Iohann sighed. “But, it’s needed.” she made cute sheep-like sounds as their tixi mice all clambered up and gave her a hug. Iohann happily returned the affection.
Zefir took stock. The newly rescued mice numbered to eighteen, and there were three different sub-species. He would later learn that tixi mice fur had teflon-like characteristics, similar to Earth’s japanese spitz dog breeds. They looked much shinier now after the mice had all been bathed.
Five of them were jet-black, these were the ones that the others had been referring to as “shadow mice” due to their appearance and ability to teleport from one swarm-mate to the next. Six were known as “steppe mice”; golden-brown fur with black mottling that reminded him of a potato. Their name was a misnomer because the one the sage that named this species had on a whim been reminded of how their fur pattern and coloring was reminiscent of a famous steppe known to be the sacred pilgrimage sight of a distinguished orc tribe. The remaining seven had reddish fox-like fur patterns, which he would later learn were called volpines.
“Let’s make the preliminary pitch!” Ingrid said as she swung in from the window. Cecil followed her, his dialogue window trailing glowing fairie dust-like particles that faded a few seconds after coming into being.
“Hi Zefir! I just finished sparring with the wolian girls.” Ingrid said as she crouched down and held out her arms in an invitation to embrace the rescued mice. But it was her own that waddled to her first and got their hugs and kisses, causing Ingrid to giggle. At first she thought her mice were feeling possessive, but then thought that they probably showed her affection to let the others know she was alright.
“I’m Ingrid!” she said, introducing herself. “I lead an adventurer team, the whales. The cute catboy over there is Zefir. And your healer is no other than Iohann. If you like to join my Tixi Mice Swarm, I’ll make sure you all will be properly armed and armored, you’ll be the strongest mice ever!”
“And I’m Cecil!” the slime squeaked. He hovered low to the ground to let the Iroquois team in. They paused first to let Ingrid give Cecil a loving pat on the head. The rescued mice squeaked, eyes wide as they saw the Iroquois mice enter his arcane dimension and open up multiple portals, waving at their newfound friends. The new mice tried to get in and found that they were unable to enter all at once.
Ingrid smiled.
“If you join us, then you can all get in.” Cecil explained. “My arcane dimension cannot accept any SINGLE living thing, but since our mouse friends have all joined one swarm, they can all come in, at least one just has to stay outside…”
The new mice were squeaking quietly amongst each other, no doubt weighing what they should do.
“So who’s interested?” Ingrid asked “Don’t worry, I’ll come again and ask once more once all of you are okay. I just want to get an idea because…” Ingrid gently picked up Gerard who rubbed cheeks with him, chittering happily. She gestured at Gerard’s red scarf with the G-brooch pinned to it. “That way I can start having your brooches made.”
Cecil turned to Ingrid “Oh? You got names in mind already?”
Zefir smiled “When it comes to naming things, you’re really fast, Ingrid.”
Ingrid held up her finger and quickly counted.
“Alright Ingrid, Flex that vocabulary!” Cecil said playfully.
“The shadow mice will be UMBRA” Ingrid said “Usher, Mason, Baker, Riker, and Archer. Whoever's the leader I’ll name Riker.”
The shadow mice made guinea pig-like chirping and wheeking sounds as they seemed to like the names.
“Riker?” Cecil asked, his face perplexed “That doesn’t seem to fit the pattern…”
“Riker is Germanic for ‘Strong Leader’, so I suppose it could count.” Neith replied.
“Huh…” Ingrid remarked.
“Flex your naming skills on the foxy ones, Ingrid!” Cecil smiled.
“FOXTROT” Ingrid said quickly, pausing only a few seconds on each name “Finn, Ollie, Xavier, Tuomas, Rykard, Otto, and Trent. Leader will be Finn.”
In response the foxy mice stood up (at least the ones that were well enough to do so) and made cute pawing motions. Ingrid smiled and patted all of them.
“Lastly, the potato patterned mice!” Cecil said.
“Obviously it’s going to be POTATO” Ingrid replied “Pat, Orlando, Tucker, Alvin, Troy, and Otis. Orlando will be the lead mouse.“
The potato mice squeaked excitedly. Ingrid then soothingly rubbed the backs of the still-infirm mice. “Don’t worry guys, I won’t take the others in yet, we’ll wait till you’re all better.”
With that Ingrid planted a kiss on the weak mice’s heads, making them cutely wheek.
“So yeah… let’s get a preliminary, “ Ingrid said, stepping back as she straightened up and surveyed everyone. Arthur leapt up to her arms and she giggled and carried him. “Who wants to join us and adventure? Again I’ll make sure you’ll all be armed and well-protected before we sortie out.”
All of the mice, even the weak ones, raised a paw.
“Okay, we also have a farm, it’s like Cecil’s dimension, it’s peaceful in there and you don’t need to hunt, who wants to be there instead? Anyone?”
The mice merely looked back. Ingrid smiled, Siria had told her that the tixi mice at the end of the day were predators, as a matter of fact her description of them along with Viel’s added commentary convinced her that the mice were essentially miniature bears, capable of both hunting and foraging.
“Very well, any objections to the names I propose?” Ingrid said.
The mice shook their heads.
“Alright then…” Ingrid gestured to the armor and guns her mice had. “We will be going now, to make you these weapons and armor.”
She got up and patted her mice. “Let’s go and get to work making stuff for our new little ones… Umbra, Foxtrot, Potato… you guys get some rest now. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“And time for some medicine!” Iohann said, looking at her wristwatch. The rescued mice squeaked in terror.
___
“Eighteen lamellar armor sets, gambesons, bracers, greaves, helmets, tactical harness, and pistol belts….” Philia enumerated. “Plus eighteen Beretta Rafficas, Glock 18, and Desert Eagles, add a combat knife, telescoping batons… at the very least those don’t require enchanting. Until it comes to their traveller’s valises that is. I might fall short of supplies.”
“Definitely will take a while…” Ingrid remarked.
“It doesn’t matter.” Philia told her “plenty of time to get the new mice properly trained. Outlaw, how’s the shopping going?”
“Besides food, I’ve gotten the scarves.” Gwen said “Also the knapsacks for the mice, The belts and hard pouches I’ve also acquired for you to turn them into the tactical harnesses. Also got some extra leather of the same material for you to convert into a holster. For the town, We’ve gotten the bricks for Sabrina’s cottage as well as parts for the rowboat.”
“I stored the bricks and wood in my item box.” Peanut said, making cute noises as Gwen patted her.
“Three! Three Item Boxers! Ah ah ah aaaaah!” Ingrid said in a fake Transylvanian accent. Cecil followed up with a sound clip of thunder.
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Glossary
Pike-Cleaver:
Specialized Greatswords that are taller than the user, with an appropriately long handle. The Pike-Cleavers given to the Umbra Team are crafted by Chapelle, an old wartime friend of Amaduscia. In view of the mice’s small size, these swords are enhanced with a Nixie weight charm, it negates the weight of the sword as far as it’s concerned with the wielder, but for everyone else dealing the mice, the sword’s original weight holds. This charm effectively gives the mice enhanced strength and weight.
On the rain-guard a soulstone core with a globe of protection spell is installed on it. This allows the mice a short window of invulnerability, letting them close in and swing wildly with no consequence.
Dagger of Misdirection:
By channeling one’s mana into the dagger, the user becomes partially invisible while creating an illusion of the user that moves in the opposite direction. Lasts only for a few seconds.
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Party Information
The following mice have joined the Whales.
* UMBRA- Usher, Mason, Baker, Riker, and Archer. (Shadow Mice)
* FOXTROT - Finn, Ollie, Xavier, Tuomas, Rykard, Otto, and Trent (Volpine Mice)
* POTATO -Pat, Orlando, Tucker, Alvin, Troy, and Otis. (Steppe Mice)
* UMBRA have obtained [Pike-Cleavers] (x4)
* UMBRA have obtained Fosstech Origin-12 shotguns
* Mice have obtained H&K G36 pellet guns with 2000-round drum mags (x30)
* The Gazebo now has a TV installed.
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Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com [https://storage.ko-fi.com/cdn/kofi2.png?v=3]
INDEX: The Whales Party Sheet