Journal Entry #23
Still don’t know what’s in the bags.
It feels like the witch is tugging on my line. But to what end? I have no idea. She claims I’m getting close to feeling mana, and that she sees it surging in me every time I create a trap to hinder or kill one of the monsters we’ve been hunting, but I don’t notice anything strange.
Tonight, she brought in a boiling pot of water for me to observe in the dark cave. I of course, couldn’t see anything, so I had to focus on hearing the churning cauldron and feeling the heat and moisture on my skin. It felt nice, but the sensations reminded me of home.
Mom’s stew slow cooking over the stove all day, steam wafting out of the sauna my dad built, Lin preparing the bathwater for me after helping in the fields, and Petter carrying over a canteen wet with condensation.
I began to tear up, missing home dearly. The witch noticed my behavior, but instead of consoling me, told me to “keep doing whatever it is that I’m doing”.
I stormed out of the cave. I’ve had enough training for the night.
---
Travis
Burnsday, the 3rd of Ninethmonth
Littlerock Fortress
The cool and crisp morning air filled my lungs, invigorating my core as it worked to warm myself, and making me eager for the new day. Birds sang from the eaves of the multi-use buildings, hungover townsfolk shielded their eyes from the rising sun, cats were on the prowl for vermin, and the scent of fresh bread was wafting in from a nearby bakery. It was like the whole fortress was singing together in peaceful harmony. The fact that Arc hadn’t woken up from his “soul maintenance” he went into last night might have contributed.
It certainly was a nice change of pace from last night’s exhausting affair. Greeting dozens upon dozens of people grew draining overtime (the majority were simply soldiers wanting to meet a mage for the first time) and having the jarl’s daughter ask me to dance unexpectantly certainly stressed me out, but what truly tired me out was having a goliath man-handle me for two straight hours on the dance floor. On the downstream, I got to sleep in an actual bed last night instead of a hammock on the ship, and even got to eat a proper breakfast from the buffet this morning.
A few of the other early risers were joining me outside the fortress’ main square (mainly just the spartans, the Creeksmith twins, and the beardless ship artificer), playing cards and taking advantage of the tables left out from last night, when a clerk walked by and offered to give us a tour of the archeological site inside the fortress.
“Archeological site?”
“Yes, a carved stone pillar that became this fortress’ namesake.” She smiled brightly at me, “According to the oral tradition passed down by local residents, the runes on it were carved by Adamanrion themself, placed here to ward away monsters.”
The ship’s artificer, a blue-haired beardless with a pair of braids running down the sides of their head, scoffed at her, “Because having a dwarf chisel the thing would have been too mundane for you humans…”
The elderly woman chuckled, “This fortress predates Oskar crossing the elven mountains, and was used as a battleground for at least an era before the first building stone was laid. We had no clue that your people even existed.” She clapped her hands together, “Now, were there any takers?”
Intrigued, I stood up, then became disappointed when I saw that none of the spartans (not even Varguk) looked interested. The dwarven artificer at least shrugged in a “sure, why not” gesture, and the twins seemed to be getting into a silent argument on whether to join.
One of the twins eventually sighed, then stood up to join me, “Looks like you’re not getting the package deal today.”
I smirked, then narrowed my eyes to try and figure out which brother he was. The two were identical in physical appearance, to the point of it almost being unsettling, with their Lakelander earthy-brown hair, green eyes, and cavalier expressions. But, just like how you can’t replicate a perfect copy of an oil painting, their mana builds and configurations differed slightly. My eyes peered into the blurry haze of grey mana surrounding him, then sharpened enough to differentiate the colors as I ramped up my mana a little higher.
Okay, he’s the brother that originally enrolled as a Water Mage before they both became Steam Mages. That makes him… umm… uhh…
“Zaccheus.” The apparent mind reader politely informed.
“Thanks.” I leaked a nervous chuckle as we gestured to the clerk to lead the way.
A six-minute walk later, we entered the main atrium of the museum dedicated to the fortress’ history, then looked up in awe at the not-so-little stone column on display. The thing had to be at least seventy-two feet long, with a three-foot diameter, and was supported in an upright position to allow easy viewing from the platforms spiraling around it. Zaccheus and I ascended the stairs as the clerk began to speak about the pillar, stopping occasionally to view the intricate carvings through the conveniently placed magnifying glasses mounted on the guard rails.
“When first discovered, the island was thought to be inhospitable due to the lack of vegetation and countless number of boulders, but early Lakelander pioneers discovered that one of the smaller rocks jutting out of the ground was covered in an intricate design never seen before.” She pointed to a painting of a small boulder surrounded by a ring of much larger rocks, “At the time, they had no idea just how much was hidden underneath the sand. Oral stories about the rock claim that it glows a faint golden light on nights when the moons Porta or Nightsun aren’t present, so it’s no surprise they were too scared to dig it up, lest they anger the gods.”
Golden light? Wait… Order Mana?
Zaccheus narrowed his eyes at the relic, then asked the question I was thinking, “So… I take it doesn’t glow nowadays?”
The clerk shook her head, “No, any detectable Order Mana present in the stone decayed long before a dwarven archeological team could be sent to investigate. Given how intact the pillar is, despite the lack of maintenance over the eras, it’s believed to have been infused with it during construction.”
I nodded along as we ascended the stairs, stopping at a patch of carvings that were preserved much better. Long, tightly spaced lines ran parallel to the column, seemingly meant to go past the broken ends, but would regularly make sharp right-angled turns, and break up the flow of the other lines. They oddly reminded me more of the striped patterns I’d seen on spartan armor, instead of the tiled squares containing dwarvish sentences I’d seen decorating practically every surface of their buildings.
“What do the runes say?”
The blue-haired dwarf chuckled behind me, “Lad, those carvings are purely decorative. It’s just a simple four-count sequence, nothing more.”
The clerk shrugged, “That’s what every archeologist has concluded. The most agreed upon theory is that this stone was a support pillar for one of the floating cities the dwarves lived in before ragnarok. How exactly it got here is still up for debate… ruins of the fallen cities have been difficult to find, but one of the more popular guesses speculated by Jasec Anvilcoat is that an explosion propelled it away from a collapsing city, keeping it from being buried deep below ground or worn away by Lakeland’s countless rivers and forests.”
Feeling embarrassed, especially after doing a doubletake on the pillar to confirm, I lowered my head, thinking that I should have kept my mouth shut.
The artificer at least took pity on me and gave my thigh a friendly pat, “No need to cry over a banged-up thumb. It was a reasonable assumption, given our modern building practices. Although not many dwarves worship Ignitious, we do take their tenet to preserve knowledge to the extreme. Hence why every brick, shingle, and tile gets stamped with a rune.”
That caught me off guard, and made me raise an eyebrow, “Every shingle and tile?”
“Aye. They place old printing press plates into the clay molds before getting filled and fired. I heard they’re not even picky about getting dwarven scripts here in the human kingdom and will use whatever shows up at the factory’s door.”
Zaccheus, looking just as surprised as I was, held up a hand, “Hold on, you mean to tell me that the underside of the floor tiles in my family estate’s ballroom might have old encyclopedia entries?”
The dwarf smiled as they scratched the back of their head, “Perhaps… if you’re lucky… Ignitious may be the god of knowledge, but they are also the god of trickery.”
The Steam Mage could only shake their head, “And your people call us humans crazy.”
“Well,” the beardless tilted their head towards the exhibit, “it’s that, or after the world ends, the only proof that your people existed might be a pretty little rock.”
---
On our walk back to the lodge, Arc finally broke his long period of silence, announcing his presence with a sleepy yawn and smacking of nonexistent lips.
“Morning. Did I miss anything?”
I didn’t have my helmet on, so I couldn’t directly answer, but I was able to give his pommel a friendly rub to welcome him back at least.
“Right… you can’t talk… should have noticed. Wait, did I miss the museum tour?”
Unable to hide my grin, I gave Arc a sympathetic pat.
“Ugh, at least tell me you got something good from the gift shop…”
Gift shop? Why would…?
No. Stop. Trying to peer into Arc’s madness will only drag you down the rapids with him.
“Not sure… what do you think Travis?”
“Huh?” I turned my head in response, “Sorry, I was… lost in thought.”
Zaccheus waved me off, “Just wondering if you knew what was going on,” he tilted his head towards the growing crowd in the street outside the main square then winked, “given that you and the princess are best friends.”
“Like hell she is!” Arc boomed loudly into my ear.
Feeling a very strong urge to rip out my earring (and possibly toss Arc down a sewer vent), I balled my hands into fists, and sucked in air through clenched teeth to keep from doing anything foolish.
The Creeksmith twin, looking frightful, held up his hands apologetically and began to stammer, “Whoa! Whoa, sorry, wasn’t trying to imply that you two tied your boats together. Just thought you might know… umm, given that our diplomatic tasks will be revolving around her… and…”
A deep, slow exhale released from my chest as I tried to calm down and salvage my latest outburst. Why am I having problems ignoring Arc? It’s like the last eight years of me learning to not react to him were forgotten overnight.
“No… it’s alright, I shouldn’t have snapped.” I breathed deeply a few more times until an excuse finally popped into my head, “Ever since that shadow show became popular, I—”
“Hold on, are you Farmboy?!” The ship artificer Volmaegar interjected, making me grit my teeth in genuine anger this time. My irritation went unnoticed as they started babbling about how they should have known when I stepped onto the ship with my “funny-looking halberd”.
“It’s not a halberd! It’s a poleaxe.” I barked, fully losing my composure, and drawing attention from some of the gathering onlookers, including a small child.
The little brown-haired boy (with eyes opened wide enough to make me think he was part Ashman), began furiously tapping the head of the soldier’s shoulder he was sitting on, “Dad! Dad! Look! It’s a mage!”
The soldier fully kitted out in the human kingdom’s green brigandine, a spear in their right hand, round shield on their back, and left hand supporting the child, turned around. Matching shades of brown hair, hazel eyes, and asymmetrical bumps on their noses made it blatantly obvious, even without the kid saying so, that he was the boy’s father. He immediately took a step back in shock once it sunk in who he was in the presence of, and despite being overburdened, began fumbling as he tried to salute us.
Zaccheus, with a big smile, held up a hand, “At ease soldier. You’ve got precious cargo, best to not drop it.”
The Lakelander soldier bowed their head in relief, only to grow mortified when his son asked a question.
“Can you cast a spell please?”
Unable to resist the cute kid’s charm, I held up a palm, then formed a tiny [Fire Orb], earning me a bunch of oohs and aahs from the child.
Zaccheus wasn’t impressed though, and scoffed at me, “Travis, that’s not how you entertain children with magic.” Taking advantage of the cool morning air, he proceeded to launch a half-dozen fog rings from his hands, making the little boy start bouncing on his dad’s shoulder in joy, then full on cheers when Zaccheus formed a tiny sailboat to fly through the rings as a finale.
“This Gandalf wannabe wants to throw down? Travis, pull me out. Let’s show him what a real master of illusions can do!”
I rolled my eyes, then knuckled Arc a few times to shut him up before he foolishly exposed himself. Seriously, it hasn’t even been twelve minutes, and I’m already missing the quiet. At least the dad seemed to relax, and even whispered thanks to me while his child started peppering Zaccheus with questions.
I whispered back to the soldier, “By chance, do you know what’s going on here in the square? I wasn’t told anything this morning.”
“Not sure, got pulled from wall duty without an explanation, then was told to collect my son and bring him here.”
“Hmm… The original plan yesterday, before everyone got attacked by monsters and the jarl called for a warrior’s feast in celebration, was to host a semi-formal gathering for the stationed soldiers and their families. Seleyna and you mages were going to hand out toys to the children while the knights and spartans mingled with the adults. It would then end with her gifting the Message Stone to the jarl and a private dinner once the families had left. I’m guessing Seleyna wants to salvage some of the original plan before we sail out in an hour?”
I scratched Arc in his favorite spot for behaving himself and being such a good sword, then was about to repeat his words to the soldier when I overheard Zaccheus speaking to the kid.
“That’s not true, anyone can become a mage. Take Travis here for example.” He made a shit-eating grin towards me, “Why, it was only a year ago that he was feeding a bundle of straw to a bull, placing a bucket underneath them, and levering its tail up and down to pump out fresh milk.”
Ugh, there was so many things wrong with that sentence that I didn’t even know where to start. Luckily, I didn’t have to. The boy was quick to correct Zaccheus, telling him that cattle eat hay and sleep on straw, cows are the ones that give milk, and that you do so by squeezing their… well… I would have used the terms “teats” and “udder”, but I guess he wasn’t technically wrong.
Zaccheus put his hands on his hips and returned an over exaggerated look of disbelief, “Are you telling me that Sir Travis here lied to me? How can I be sure that you’re not the one tugging on my line?”
Unable to hold back a chuckle, I heard the boy’s father join me in amusement as his son explained that he lived on a dairy farm in one of the nearby villages with his mother and uncle’s family when he wasn’t here to visit his dad, and proudly state that he got to help feed the baby calves.
Loud voices shouted over the crowd, telling everyone to form lines, and to be on their best behavior since Princess Seleyna and the other mages will be personally handing out gifts to the children. Letting out a big sigh and knowing that it was only a matter of minutes before I was going to get ordered to hand out gifts too, I bid farewell to the soldier and his son, wishing that I could have spent more time with them.
---
Arc
Warden’s Hammer – Main Deck
Despite the warm welcome everyone received, Princess Seleyna and her battalion had a tight schedule to keep. So, once she and the mages were done handing out tin soldiers to the children, it was back to the ship to continue their journey to the next fortress. Before the ship launched though, there was one last announcement to make.
The entire battalion packed onto the main deck (even the commandos), all deathly silent as they faced the doors to the infirmary. Eventually, after what felt like ages, one of the doors swung open, and Knight Lieutenant Medic Karianne stepped out, followed soon by a bleary-eyed Reidar helping support the injured corpsman. The kid looked like he’d just run a marathon after going on a hunger strike, but he managed to find enough strength to shakily hold up his formerly severed hand and wiggle his fingers for everyone to see.
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Cheers and applause soon erupted from the deck, and the joyous Logistics Corps members quickly moved in to take over for Reidar and help their comrade find a comfortable place to rest. Reidar didn’t resist, just stood in a zombie-like manner, not reacting to any of the spartans as they gave his shoulders and back congratulatory punches, but his squad-brother Varguk was able to get a reaction when he brought over a steaming mug of brewed stimleaf.
“Good job baby bro!” He held the mug under Reidar’s nose, hoping to revive the teenager, “Don’t worry, I got the good stuff. None of that weak crap the elves import.”
Reidar pushed away the drink, “No stimleaf… patient needs sleep. I need… sleep…” Then, as if to prove that military training was as effective as advertised, raced his fingers down his coat with alacrity and started stripping off his uniform, despite the clear sleep deprivation.
Varguk, starting to panic, handed the drink to Karianne, then grabbed his brother’s hands before the shirtless spartan could unbutton their pants, “Whoa! Hang on… let’s uh… find you a bed first…” The half-orc darted their head around, doing their best to ignore the whistles sent his way, then spotted his concerned squad captain stepping forward, “Captain Adalaine, requesting permission to take Reidar below deck to sleep.”
The Royal Knight tried her best to remain serious, but once Reidar kicked off his boots and started wrestling with Varguk to free his hands, she couldn’t help but leak a few chuckles before giving out orders, “Spartan Reidar, go below deck and sleep for six hours.”
Finally ripping his arms free, Reidar saluted the captain, then turned on his heel to march off, plowing through a few people until he reached the pedestrian entrance. The door soon became an obstacle as the single-minded spartan kept pushing on it, growing more and more furious at its refusal to open, but thankfully one of the commandos managed to sneak in and pull the door open before Reidar resorted to bashing it down.
Travis, who had been watching the whole affair with his friends, tapped Mattius on the shoulder, “Was I just as bad when I stayed up late that one night?”
Mattius grinned at the memory, “No, you were way worse. You ignored almost anything we said and either kept trying to run off or turned into a heap of dead weight.”
“Oof, that’s disturbing. I barely remember walking down for breakfast that morning.”
The Dust Mage shrugged, “Far as I’m concerned, it's way better than Stage 3 Mana Sickness. At least you didn’t grow violent or tried to gnaw our faces off.”
Travis grimaced, no doubt remembering the time he got attacked in the spell range, then lurched in shock when Squad 2’s medic barged into their conversation.
“Technically, mana-induced sleep deprivation is a type of mana sickness.” She informed, “Although it deviates from the normal progression of hunger, pain, then disassociation, it counts as Stage 3 due to the lack of self-awareness.”
Mattius scratched the back of his head, “Can you prevent it then by eating mana rich foods?”
“No, without a period of inactivity to fully discharge one’s internal mana and relieve their membrane of external pressure, the buildup of stress makes it impossible to focus on anything other than primal needs. Imagine carrying around a loaded pack all day. You can reduce the weight to slow down exhaustion, but eventually your body will refuse to go any further until the pack is removed, and you lie prone to properly rest.”
Travis nodded along, then tilted his head, “Okay, but then how come you’re fully cognizant right now? Didn’t you stay up late assisting Reidar?”
“I did,” the knight shrugged, “but I barely needed to assist. Once I disinfected the wound and equalized the mana pressure, I was able to sneak in a few naps throughout the night." She took a sip of the latte Varguk made, groaning in pleasure as the coffee/tea substitute poured down her throat, “Didn’t have to burn away any forming tumors either. I swear, that kid must be blessed by Apheros, I’ve worked with fully trained Wood Mage surgeons that have worse mana control than him.”
---
Erosathan River – Gull Lake County
ETA to Ottertail Fortress – 6 hours
My focus floated into the infirmary to spy on the private meeting of the three squad captains.
“We should be behind the main wave from the capital now,” Spartan Captain Aguk stated, “but it’s not a guarantee we won’t get attacked once we veer off the main river again to stop at a fortress. Does the princess want to deviate from the mission plan?”
Knight Captain Adaline shook her head, “Not unless a known threat is present, or inclement weather prevents us from sailing.” She turned to Raven Four, “Any new intel that we need to be aware of?”
“Mathildis the pirate and her ship The Salty Pickle have gone missing. She was last seen raiding a supply carrier south of here on the river over a month ago, and rumors state she hasn’t drydocked in her usual hiding spot this fall.”
The spartan raised an eyebrow, “You think she’d dare attack us?”
Raven Four shook his head, “Unlikely, but any possibility is on the table for this mission, given who’s onboard. There are a few other notable pirates that have gone missing, so I recommend running drills to prepare for a combined force attacking us.”
Captain Aguk still looked perplexed, “I’m not against adding anti-piracy drills to the rotation, but aren’t you being paranoid? I’ll admit I’m not an expert when it comes to political intrigue, but what could a bunch of pirates hope to gain by kidnapping or killing the third, soon to be fourth, in line to the throne?”
The commando turned to the Royal Knight, who in turn sighed, then put up a [Sound Barrier] before she answered, “You’ve been cleared to know if the need arises, but for now, let’s operate under the assumption that someone in the capital will be very happy if Seleyna were to meet a tragic fate on her mission, and may have put plans into motion to make it happen.”
The half-orc scowled, his tusks making him look extra ferocious, “I’m a spartan. It’s probably best if I don’t know. I can’t knowingly ignore a threat to the princess, and not take action. I doubt I’d be able to restrain myself.”
Raven Four gave the spartan a friendly shoulder pat, surprising the other two, “That lack of hesitation, along with your martial prowess and expertise, is why we need you. My team can handle the hidden threats, and Adaline will cover the social discourse, but if the three of us can’t protect the princess, then we’ll have to hope the gods will show mercy on us.”
---
Ottertail Fortress – Grand Hall
Hmm… not sure if I’m liking the newest update to my “patch”. I figured out how to output everyone’s conversations that my sword-body sees into a chat box, limiting what I actively hear to just my invisible focus, and making it so I don’t have to hear dozens upon dozens of conversations at the same time now. It removed a lot of mental fatigue, since now I don’t have to tune out everything I don’t want to hear, but I’m back to that whole “Do I actually want to know everything?” dilemma.
Admittedly, I do enjoy snooping around with my focus (helps to combat the boredom when I can’t talk to Travis), but with everything simply getting added to the log whether I observe the conversation with my focus or not spoils the fun.
Well, assuming I do keep it, I need to figure out how to organize this chat log better. Everyone’s recorded words in my vision’s range are getting merged into one endless stream, making it completely unreadable once too many people start talking. Hopefully it doesn’t take forever to fix. I didn’t learn how to program in my old world, and my current method of giving a command to the unfinished layer of my soul to see if it works does have similarities, so I wonder sometimes if I’m doing everything wrong.
Mentally sighing, I sent my focus drifting across the fortress’ reception dinner as Galehaut gave Travis another dancing lesson, Mattius worked up the courage to go talk to Treblana, Drozuk was asking Lancel about his older brother’s pugilist fighting style, Vesril sat alone with his arms crossed, and Seleyna danced with Reidar while sharing a private conversation.
Ooh, that looks intriguing.
Ignoring the chat log, I move my focus closer to overhear the conversation.
“So, I put in the request to bring him on as a chef, I figured if he could make sewerducks taste amazing, then maybe he could do the same for anything we kill during our expedition. It wasn’t until I saw that your military identification numbers were identical, save for the last digit, that I learned you two were squad-brothers.” Seleyna sighed as Reidar switched the tempo to keep in line with the band’s song, “I was positive that I got tricked somehow, but as far as I can tell, it was a simple coincidence.”
Reidar shared one of his rare smiles with the princess, “Even if it wasn’t a coincidence, Varguk is an excellent cook, has extensive knowledge of monster anatomy, and is quite deft with his cleaver. It’s an honor to have him in my combat squad.”
Seleyna closed her eyes as the two glided across the dance floor, then opened them to peer into Reidar’s, “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Yes.”
“Mom mentioned that you were among a dozen spartans who were offered exemptions from the law so you could study at the Mages’ Academy, but none of you accepted. Why didn’t you?”
Reidar steeled his gaze as he contemplated his answer, then peered into her large eyes, “Abandoning my family was unacceptable.”
The princess was taken aback, “Abandon? What do you mean?”
“My title of ‘Spartan’ would have been removed. Although my first squad assured me that they would still consider me part of the squad, I felt that it would have been a major insult to my squad-siblings still trying to earn their green stripes if I were to discard my recently-earned title.” Reidar paused to take a big breath, “I understand that we’re not bound by blood, but they have never once made me, or my siblings ineligible to begin training, feel unwelcome in their circle, despite our deficiencies.”
Seleyna drooped her head, “I… I didn’t realize how important being a spartan was to you. If it’s any consolation, I’m positive my mother meant no insult. I know she personally asked the Duke and Baron Generals to present the offers so that they would be easier to turn down.”
“I was not insulted. If the Queen had ordered me to become a mage, I would have done so without complaint. The needs of the kingdom outweigh my personal preferences.”
A sad expression fell upon the princess, “But… you would have been miserable…”
“Possibly, but I could have just as likely grown to enjoy the experience. I know of at least one thing that would have made it so.”
Seleyna smirked as she squeezed Reidar’s shoulder, “Oh? And what would that be?”
Reidar glanced towards Galehaut’s clumsy dancing partner and grinned, “Getting to study and train with Travis. I got to join him in his private spell range once and discovered that my martial training complemented his academic abilities.”
Rolling her eyes at the clueless spartan, Seleyna shrugged off Reidar missing her attempt to flirt, and joined him watching Travis comedically crash into another dancer, “Is he getting worse?”
Reidar’s face returned to its neutral expression as he pondered the question, “No, I believe Sir Mistguard is intentionally interrupting Travis’ attempts to focus on his footwork.”
---
Travis
Ottertail Fortress Lodge – Guest Suites
“Goodnight bud. I’m going to do some more maintenance.”
I reached down to give Arc a pat, but forgot that I put him in the weapons rack with the other swords, and had to hope that he read me patting my left thigh as a sign that I wished him a good night too.
Mattius soon joined me sitting cross-legged on my bed, holding a blank notebook like me, then sat the strange puzzle box between us so we could start studying it.
“Okay,” I began, “let’s start with what the guildmaster told you.”
Mattius nodded, “They said no asking direct help from any person, god, or object, but that we could use the terrain.”
I nodded as I copied down the words, “First part seems straight forward, that covers just about any possibility of us cheating.”
“Agreed. I suppose we could overhear the answer or watch someone else solve it, but I’d rather not test that method.” Mattius scratched the back of his neck with his pencil, “The second part must be a hint to get us started. Any thoughts?”
“Hmm… nothing comes to mind right now. Ready to record initial observations?”
Mattius picked up the cube, “It’s made of an unknown black material, showing both metallic and crystalline properties, and is completely void of any mana. Main shape is that of a four-inch cube, has square tiles of various sizes on its surface that can be shifted by sliding the columns and rows in unison, and if an unbroken line encircles the cube,” he twisted the top portion of the cube, rotating the side a full ninety degrees, “You can move a row of tiles to a different side.”
“Wow, I’ve never seen such a complicated puzzle before.”
“Me either.” Mattius marveled at the object, “I took some time to study the tiles before tonight. There’s two large tiles, four medium sized, twelve small, and the rest are tiny. Each one has a small cone-shaped divot with a hole in the middle, but as far as I can tell, no two tiles are the same.”
I finished writing down my notes, then took the puzzle from Mattius so I could see for myself, “I’d have to grab a measuring tool, but I think you’re right.”
“Storms, I guessing that means each individual tile needs to be in the correct spot for the puzzle box to open.”
My eyes widened with realization, “There’s no way we can guess the right configuration… It could take years.”
Mattius grinned, “Well, I was given sixty years to solve it. The odds of us getting lucky at some point should be possible, right?
---
Lancel
Steelsday, the 4th of Ninethmonth
Erosathan River – Clearwater County
ETA to Blackleigh Fortress – 3 hours
Galehaut palmed the pommel of his bastard sword with his left hand, using the right as a swivel to quickly change the angle of his swing to parry another of Travis’ attacks, then shoulder-barged the poor kid to throw him off balance once again. Travis stumbled back a few paces, gritting his teeth, and finally showed some fire in his eyes as he tried to lunge at the goliath. Moving far too gracefully for a man his size, Galehaut sidestepped with little effort, then slapped the flat of his blade against Travis’ rear and taunted the young man with his rumbling guffaw.
Lancel sighed, his father had once gone through a similar exercise with him, though for him it was to learn how to control his anger, not to unleash it. He continued watching, growing entranced as sunlight danced along the bare steel of the two blades. Well… danced along Galehaut’s sword. The constant dull grey light bouncing off Travis’ weapon appeared so lifeless compared to the flashing orange hue of the goliath’s every time the edges clashed.
‘Orange? Hang on, it’s the middle of the day, why is… oh.’
He shook his head as his vision stopped hyper-focusing on the two swords, then expanded his field of view from his high vantage on the aft deck to include the halos of grey and cobalt light surrounding the two sparring.
‘Figures. Was never able to see mana before becoming a knight, but now that I’m not spending every free moment training, my mana sight activates without even thinking about it. If I knew all I had to do was watch a pair of swordsmen fight or simply take more lessons in…’
Lancel cut off his stampeding thoughts. It was bad enough that he kept having lecherous thoughts about a sword-loving inner-ring noble, but second-guessing his commitment to mastering the spear? No, he was not going to regret that decision.
“Sir Hopkins.”
A voice from behind caused Lancel to turn and see that the young Packer mage had approached him, “Mathias?”
“Uh, no, it’s Mattius. Mattius Tatian.”
“Sorry,” Lancel chuckled, “I can be just as bad as Travis sometimes.”
A puzzled expression crept across Mattius’ face as he scratched the back of his head, “Okay… umm, back to what I was going to ask. Travis mentioned last night that he wanted to teach you a few Air spells, and… since I’m not teaching anyone right now—”
“I’d be happy to receive your instruction. We only got to basic shapes and how to cast an Aura spell midway through the training camp before we focused on learning attunement.”
The mage nodded, “Okay, let’s start with the spell [Message] then. It’s probably the most important spell to learn, and only requires two basic shapes to form each half of the spell; a hollow cone attached to a sphere.”
Lancel raised an eyebrow, “That’s it? I thought spells were more complicated than that.”
“They can be. For example, if you want to hear a reply from the person or persons you’re speaking to, then you need both an input and output cone on each instance of the spell you’ve cast. You can also amplify your voice by adjusting the cone size larger or do the reverse to whisper. There’s also a variant of the spell called [Remote Ear] that picks up sound omnidirectionally and is great for scouting with. Oh, and you can also—”
Lancel held up his hands to stop the young man’s rambling, “I stand corrected. Can we start with something simple though? Maybe learning how to speak over the Messaging channel in my helmet? Or is that too complicated?”
Mattius chuckled, “No, that should be doable. If your helmet is like mine, then it should have divots stamped into it to make enchanting easier..”
Lancel grinned as the Packer mage reached for his helmet, he was secretly hesitant about Travis teaching him magic, so this should be a less stressful alternative. Plus, his mother’s face when she discovers that he learned from a Tatian of all people was sure to be one for the era. For years she used Clan Tatian as an example of what not to do, given how the family was riddled with scandals and disappointments.
If he remembered right, the first matriarch of the clan was irresponsible with her husband’s income and was living beyond their means, forcing Mattius’ father into volunteering for every available assignment to keep them out of debt. In revenge, he fathered at least a half-dozen bastards and legitimized all of them, prompting her to spread rumors about his unfaithfulness. Eventually, the downpour started when Mattius’ father used a clause in their clan’s charter to divorce his wife after she became incapable of bearing children, then remarried to a much younger woman.
To be honest, Lancel was surprised the clan still existed. When he asked Marcia about the Tatians after getting the roster for this mission, she told him that while none of the older sons had become knights, there was some small hope for the clan. The youngest son had managed to trigger their mana before turning eighteen (most likely because his father had retired, thus able to train the boy full-time) and even managed to enroll at the Mages’ Academy.
‘I hope Torbolt is looking out for you kid. You’re going to need it.’
---
Arc
Rocksday, the 5th of Ninethmonth
Blackleigh Fortress – Main Hall
Yes… Yes… It’s working!
My chat window is sorting conversations into tabs, I can sort by person instead, search for keywords, and the best part of all, I can toggle it on and off.
Arc 2.0, the indestructible magical talking sword with a built-in auto-translator, quest log, and note taking app! Mapmaker functionality coming soon!
My focus dances with joy, and even Travis must have sensed my happiness, because he’s grinning like an idiot while he stares at the… six-egg farmer’s omelet with two potatoes worth of hashbrowns and a pound of pork sausage being served to him.
Right… I somehow forgot that we have different priorities…
I watched for a bit as Travis dug into his food while joining Reidar and the other spartans eating similar sized dishes for their early breakfast, then decided to venture off to see if anyone else was awake yet.
Drozuk was snoring loudly, ruining Vesril and the other male mages’ attempt to catch a few more minutes of sleep. Galehaut was massaging beard oil into his chin. Lancel was practicing forming the [Message] spell and asking the Northman knight in Travis’ squad if it looked right. Raven Four and his commandos were doing a final sweep of their room before exiting via window. And Captain Adaline was asking Treblana to step outside the women’s room so they could talk.
“How are you getting along with Seleyna?”
Treblana stammered, unsure of what to say at first before meekly answering, “Umm, I think we’re getting along okay. She’s… umm… please don’t take this the wrong way… but she’s not as regal as I expected her to be.”
The Royal Knight chuckled, “No, I understand what you mean. Her older sisters’ constant attempts to one up each other as they fought over toys, academic accomplishments, and now political agendas soured her to the idea of being a prim and proper princess.” Her smile shifted to an uneasy one as her laughter took on a nervous tone, “Speaking of political agendas, I have a confession to make. I requested to place you in my squad to use as a recruitment aid.”
The young Packer woman was flummoxed, “What? Why me?”
“Do you know what the male to female ratio is for spartans?”
“Umm… not sure. I know it’s not very high. If I had to guess, maybe one out of a dozen are women?”
“More like one out of eight. But don’t worry, that’s considered very good, given that orkish and half-orc women average about three boys and one girl in every litter, and the adoption rate for girls is much higher.”
Treblana nodded along, “Okay, but how does that—”
“For Northmen and Lakelanders, the overall male to female ratio of knights and mages is three to one. With knights skewing more towards males and mages closer to breaking even.” Adaline paused for dramatic effect, “Only one out of one-hundred eighty Packer knights are women and female Packer Mages are only slightly better at one out of one-hundred twenty. I’m guessing your parents were about as thrilled as mine when you decided not to pursue the family business?”
The Earth Mage shifted uncomfortably, “My… mom needed to be convinced by my dad to let me train with him. And I think he only accepted me asking him because I don’t have any brothers.”
The Royal Knight shared a knowing smile, “When we arrive at Union Fortress tomorrow, I’d like for you to join Seleyna as she tours the fortress. Since we’ll be at the border of Lakeland and the Southern Plains, I’m hoping that the public seeing an outer-ring mage carousing with a princess might encourage them to allow their daughters to pursue military careers outside of the Logistics Corps.”
Treblana agreed to the request, then was about to head back into the room when she stopped the knight, “Hold on, I’ve got a couple of questions.”
“Go ahead.”
“If you wanted me to be seen being friends with the princess, then why not have us in the same squad as well?”
Captain Adaline huffed, “You were in the same squad, but the day before assignments were handed out, General Stalsworth swapped you and Travis unexpectedly. Really pissed me off too. Without you, Squad 1 barely has any Earth Magic support.”
“Oh, I was wondering about that. As for the other question, you didn’t mention the metrics for Ashmen.”
“They’re considered unusable, since the commandos refuse to publish their numbers. To be honest, I’m not even sure if Raven Four is a man or not. They always speak in that affected gravely tone, and their leather armor hides any distinguishing features.”
A deep, raspy voice echoed from behind the pair, “How bold of you to assume you’re speaking to the same Raven Four each time.”
The two ladies startled as they realized a commando was standing only a foot away from them.
Not reacting to their panicked breathing, the commando spoke once more, “The premises are secure. It is safe for Princess Seleyna to head downstairs for breakfast.” They saluted, then leapt into the open gap the stairwell surrounded, catching the rail on a lower level, then darted through a room and open window.
Captain Adaline groaned, “Twelve years working with these guys, and you’d think I’d finally stop reacting whenever they drop in to report.”