Journal Entry # 26
And so begins my “formal” instruction of magic.
Lesson Number 1 – Even if you can see and know how they do it, don’t ever let a mage, knight, spartan, or commando catch you copying them. Otherwise, you’ll get a visit from the Queen’s tax collectors.
---
Lancel
Temple Row – Southeast Third of Union Fortress
‘-reverberate our footfalls till they roar as thunder, then strike our spears like lightning through the hearts of our foes.’
Lancel completed his prayer at Torbolt’s outdoor shrine, then raised his head to study the bronze statue of a thunderhead leading of a herd of bison, buffalo, bulls, rams, boars, and even a stag, furiously with their heads lowered at an unseen enemy. It was a nice change from the usual depiction of Torbolt in his human form (no doubt taking influence from his Greater Domain of Comradery), and he knew that if one of his sisters were here, they’d be going into a long-winded explanation over how each beast represented a different race or human tribe, then pointing out the intricate details his eyes couldn’t see that marked the artwork as a masterpiece.
Granted, he didn’t need commentary to see how life-like the animals were. He could almost hear the pounding of cloven feet as powerful muscles flexed underneath hide, the hot and humid snorts of respiration vacuuming in and out, the shouts of —
“There you are!”
Lancel gasped as a meaty palm clapped onto his shoulder, violently pulling him out of the trance he was in. He snapped his head around in high alert, heart pounding in his chest, until he spotted Galehaut.
A smiling Galehaut, with a shit-eating grin.
Letting out a sigh, Lancel reluctantly asked, “What’s got you all giddy?”
“Well… while you were busy ‘meditating’ in front of the shrine here, I decided to take advantage of the Lieutenant offering to help babysit and made plans for tonight.”
“What kind of plans?”
“The kind we don’t talk about tomorrow morning when our boat leaves.” Galehaut’s grin changed to a more jovial smile and gave Lancel a gentle push, “C’mon, let’s get moving. Travis and the others will be done with church soon, and I already see the others waiting.”
---
“See, I told you it’d be easy to find.” Lieutenant Nikolai Fernrod, the second in command of Squad 1, reassured Mattius as they turned the corner off the busy street.
Lancel wasn’t sure if it was residual boat sickness, that a Northman of all people claimed to know where to find the best Southern Plains barbecue, or that Galehaut refused to elaborate about tonight, but whatever it was, something was making him feel uneasy. His hands kept shifting to reach for his sword, or to fiddle inside his valuables pouch like he forgot something, but whatever it was, he couldn’t—
A large group of typical looking Packer men, blonde haired with shimmering bronze skin, were loitering outside the entrance. Each and every single one of them dressed like the villagers he’d spent the last eight years protecting.
‘Oh… maybe that’s what it is. I’m out of uniform.’
Instead of a traditional set of summer wraps, it seemed like everyone in the fortress (even the elves and dwarves), were wearing board shorts and short-sleeved shirts, leaving him the only one not wearing pants. Had he remembered that he was only at the northern border of the Southern Plains, and in the largest international trade hub, he probably wouldn’t have thought Mattius a filthy traitor this morning when the group set out from the palace.
His frivolous thoughts about fashion kept his mind distracted as they entered The Trampled Grove, resulting in him being caught completely unaware when a spear-thin sea elf in a sparkling tunic darted behind him to use his bulk as a makeshift shield.
“Back! Back you foul temptress!” The man shouted to an approaching woman while thrusting a strange amulet of silver filigree around a black gemstone over Lancel’s shoulder. “I will not let your promises of ‘alternative’ compensation lure me into betraying my bardic oath of celibacy.”
The elderly Packer woman in question, who was nearly as frightening as his own mother when angry, exerted an intimidating veneer of dominance over the entire room as she slowly marched towards the entrance. She glared at the cowering man behind him with crossed arms, as if daring the bard to repeat their accusation.
Feeling naked without a spear, Lancel searched the room for his companions, then frowned as he discovered that the cowards had all fled to the far wall. Letting out a tired groan over the realization he’d have to fend for himself, he cleared his throat, and fell back on his guard training for diffusing civil disputes.
“Ahem… Apologies for interrupting, but perhaps there was a misunderstanding? Ma’am, could you begin explaining to me what upset you?”
The matriarch turned her gaze to him, “Before this bard here accused my establishment of being a shack of degeneracy on the Jormainian riverfront, I was attempting to explain that I not only own many of the eateries on this block,” her features narrowed into a sneer, “but also the apartments above.”
Lancel picked up what she was implying, “So, you were offering to include room and board in exchange for a lower retainer fee to have him perform here?”
The matriarch nodded, causing the bard behind him to start nervously chuckling.
“Oh… uh, my bad.” He slinked out from behind Lancel, “Umm… if you're willing to accept my apology, I would appreciate being able to move out of the nearby hostel. My bunkmates don’t particularly like it when I practice the guitar when they’re trying to get some sleep in.”
The matriarch shook her head in exasperation and responded in a defeated tone, “You’re forgiven. Shall we return to my office to finalize the details?”
“Yes, I’ll join you in a second…” The bard turned to Lancel, “Thanks, I have a bad habit of wildly jumping to conclusions.” They forced the pendant they were holding into his palm, “Here, without this gig, my visa will expire at the end of the month. Also, I technically don’t worship this god, and so maybe someone who actually does should hang onto it.”
Lancel looked down at the offered gift. It was an exquisitely crafted symbol of Torbolt’s Domain of Comradery, a silver bison skull with forward pointing horns to denote it as a thunderhead, complete with a glowing pink crystal shining through the hollow eye sockets.
‘What the…? This is way too valuable for such a minor…’
He raised his head to protest that he couldn’t possibly accept the amulet, but the bard had already vanished.
“Lancel!”
Travis’ voice shouted from behind, startling the man. He spun around to see Travis and the lad’s friends had just entered.
“Sorry we took so long. Did you manage to get a table?”
“Uh…” Lancel stalled as he tried to regain his bearings, then looked around until he spotted a large table with a bashful looking goliath, innocently waving a hand while Mattius and the lieutenant snickered. He groaned, stuffing the gift he received into a pocket, “Yeah, we got one, let’s get some food.”
---
Arc
Jarl’s Palace - Warehouse
Whew… that was close. Nothing like unexpectedly discovering a crippling weakness to get the nonexistent blood pumping.
When I first got stuffed into the bag of old and damaged gambesons marked for disposal, I didn’t think too much about my fabric prison. After all, it was just low-grade material (if that), and I could burn or cut through it with the simplest of spells. What I didn’t consider was one of the basic principles Travis learned in Artifice 1, mana conductivity.
Like the dust used in the creation of the mana scales on Travis’ poleaxe, I was almost completely cut off from syncing with the ambient mana in the air due to the large amount of matter blocking my access. The annoying part was that I couldn’t even bypass the restriction using dwarven magic. The scant mana in the fabric was too thin to properly attune to the material and connect to the outside of the bag, leaving me with only the tiny amount of Air Mana from my earlier spells still under my control as Bones and his pal tried to make their escape.
Thankfully the stress of being forever trapped and separated from Travis forged my resolve into coming up with an ingenious multi-step new plan that I’ve titled: When in Doubt, Blame it on a Commando.
Step one went surprisingly easy as the gullible thief all but salivated at the promise of getting to cast spells, not even balking when I asked them to knock out his partner. Though, I get the feeling there wasn’t much love to be lost between them.
The next step, however, will be trickier. I was willing to push my luck with the last guy when I knocked him out, mainly because he was denser with mana and therefore more durable (and because he was going to kill Tomas), but given how malnourished Bones looks, I’d rather take the time to trap him in a stone cage. Once he’s secure, I can secretly scurry away using [Earth Slide], leaving a simple carved note saying to do better background checks next time and a [Message] spell to alert the guards. I’m hoping that everyone will accept the more reasonable explanation of a snarky commando playing with his prey over a talking sword.
Oh, he’s almost done tying up Shadow. Time for my inevitable betrayal and for him to start cursing. Just need to distract him…
“Excellent work. Make sure to secure him tightly, he’ll likely wake soon.”
Bones smirked a bit too eagerly as he looped the rope around Shadow a few more times to properly gag the criminal, then transitioned into a sneer as he gazed upon the unconscious thief, “Serves you right. I told ya stealing adamantine weapons would bite us in the ass. But you didn’t listen… just told me to keep my mouth shut…” He leered in closer to whisper into Shadow’s ear, “Look who’s keeping their mouth shut now.”
Shadow jerked awake, and immediately started to squirm and snarl, but Bone’s knotwork was on point, and the bonds only tightened as the prisoner struggled. My temporary owner merely chuckled as I weaved a honeycomb of Earth Mana into the ground to lay my trap.
Yes… almost ready… just need you to hold still a little longer…
“I wonder if the boss will send someone after ya?” He further taunted, “I assume the noble prick hiring the guild will want to silence any loose threads.”
My spell preparation finished, but to my annoyance, curiosity got the better of me after hearing that I wasn’t the first adamantine weapon to get stolen. Plus, if I’m going to impersonate a commando, I should probably play the part, and take the opportunity to question a talkative informant.
“You think a noble approached your boss?”
“It would have to be, the thieves’ guild wouldn’t bother to steal you otherwise. You’re worthless on the black market."
I did my best to contain my fury, I really did, but even with the ability to modulate my voice however I felt, the sound I made was still more akin to a tombstone dragging across gravel than anything human, “I’m worthless?”
Bones stiffened up, then began to twitch erratically as they tried to figure out how to break the news gently to me.
“W…Well… you see… adamantine weapons are old family relics… Blacksmiths don’t know how to make them anymore… s… so they’re highly coveted by nobles. If a commoner gets seen carrying one around… th… they’ll get questioned… or… worse. I’m not sure why.”
“Ah, I see your reasoning now. You’re quite astute, unlike your partner. Any guesses as to who’s hiring the thieves’ guild?”
“A couple come to mind… I know Fanny Marlinshore wasn’t happy when she lost the election for Jarl to a commoner, but…” Bones turned his head to look down where I laid on the ground next to him, completely unaware that a spell formation sat in wait between us, “only the boss would know for sure.”
Hmm… I wonder… Apheros mentioned newer methods when he was comparing me to another minor god… Is it possible that these other weapons have trapped souls too?
My focus hovered over my gullible stooge. Maybe I should take this chance to do some more investigating? I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?
---
Travis
Fleferd Bridge - enroute to Hadagwelf Market Street
“No, the southwest third of the fortress only contains the palace, stock exchange, and warehouses. The small markets and entertainment venues are all located on the northern peninsulas.” Lieutenant Fernrod answered my question as our group rode the trolley over the Erosathan River.
I’ll admit, I was hesitant when the onyx-haired knight invited himself, but his firsthand knowledge from being stationed here a few times in the past was making me come around.
And a good thing too, because this fortress was massive!
Lancel once claimed that all fortresses looked the same, and to a certain extent he was correct, none of the fortresses we visited before today really deviated from the standard square-shaped walls capped with a bastion on each corner and four ravelins floating outside to guard the flat portions of the walls. He forgot to mention, however, that there was a big glaring exception when it came to Union Fortress. The outer walls were a twenty-four-point rosette, with the inner land masses divided by the rivers into two large chunks and two smaller chunks. None of the tightly packed buildings were under four stories tall, elevated walkways bridged together the upper residential apartments, and horse traffic was only allowed on the main thoroughfares to prevent accidents.
I couldn’t help but gawk at the spectacle, and silently shudder inside. I don’t think I could handle being constantly surrounded by so many people.
“Farm-fresh preserves! Straight from Creekstone Hill!”
“Starcap mushrooms! Guaranteed to give you a good time!”
“ ’Row, row, away from her! Pull up anchor and thank your bud. Row, row, away from her! Before she ties you to your bed.’ ”
We stepped off the trolley into a noisy street filled with cart sellers hawking their wares, small bands playing music for tips, and the general buzz from dozens upon dozens upon dozens of people talking over one another.
Lieutenant Fernrod quickly led us away from the drop off and into a nearby textiles shop, exchanging the audible noise for a visual one. Inside were shelves piled high with vibrantly colored bolts of yarn against the walls, racks of knitted winterwear, and a trio of tapestries being worked on by an old lady.
“Alright, first things first, you two…” he pointed to the Creeksmith twins, “are getting scarfs so I can finally tell you apart. I swear, whoever thought it was adequate to only stamp last names onto our chest plates needs to get dragged out of their paper fortress and tossed into a sewage trench.”
“Sir,” Reidar interjected before the lieutenant could break away to greet the elderly woman, “uniform regulations state that we’re not allowed to wear loose articles of clothing.”
“Addendum 3, subsection 2. Protection from hazardous weather conditions. Assuming we don’t die from thermal shock when we get to the mountains,” Fernrod paused to pant and wipe the sweat from their brow, “you’re going to want one. Trust me, getting snow stuck inside your gorget while on the march is not a pleasant way to spend your afternoon.”
“But article 6 specifically cites choking hazards.” Reidar countered.
Fernrod raised a finger, “Ah, but that’s why instead of those long dangly nooses that Lakelander civies like to wear, we’ll be sporting the approved square ones the northern watch wrap around their heads when the wind blows colder than a—Agh!”
A bolt of thread collided with the lieutenant’s head, drawing everyone’s attention to the wrinkly old lady who threw it.
“Worthless nephew, first you don’t visit for months, and now you don’t even greet me when you walk in?”
“Auntie Vaf,” Fernrod opened his arms for a hug, “I thought I explained before I left, I’m assigned to special operations now. In fact, I’m here with part of my battalion.”
The old lady batted his hands away, “Excuses, excuses. Your cousin Anita always finds time for afternoon tea on Snowsday.”
“Didn’t she get arrested for embezzlement?”
“Bah, they could never prove anything.” She waved for him to follow, “Now, make yourself useful for a change, and help me pull your order from the back room.”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“Order? I didn’t put in an order?”
“Exactly! I had to do it myself. You know, I have more important things to spend my time on. Those tapestries aren’t going to weave themselves.”
The two continued their back and forth, eventually fading out as they dived deeper into the shop and leaving our stunned group behind.
Drozuk decided to break the silence, “I like her, she reminds me of my uncle Brian.”
Mattius raised an eyebrow, “Is he duck-shit crazy too?”
“Oh yeah. If you run into him when we get to Coldspring, don’t let him get started on one of his conspiracy theories. He’ll rant for hours about why horses can’t be trusted, or how there’s a secret group of lizard-people trying to upend the kingdom.”
“Wait, lizard-people?” Galehaut chimed in, “I think I’ve heard that one. They burrow into people then puppeteer them around to blend in, right?”
Not invested in where the conversation was going, I tuned the guys out, opting instead to join Reidar in getting a better look at the unfinished tapestries. Unlike the heraldry I’d seen hung in the Hopkins and Raycraft estates, these were closer to the art pieces I saw with Caldia, though instead of showing time passing between the trio of banners, they focused on three of the kingdom’s most famous heroes.
The most complete banner was of Trebellia, Chosen of Torbolt. The golden eagle balancing on her shoulder with one leg holding a message scroll was a big hint, but her standing with one foot on a storage crate while holding a map and barking out commands provided confirmation.
Given who was in the first, it was safe to assume that the second tapestry of an ebony-skinned man with glowing green tattoos was Ahkazriel the Surgeon. He was shown planting his staff in the ground amidst a lake of injured soldiers with his left hand and holding a small red flame in his right. Or… at least I think they were supposed to be soldiers… that part was still just a charcoal sketch on the fabric.
The last one, a depiction of Hakon the Behemoth Slayer, I really, really hoped wasn’t finished. The Northman was practically naked as he wrestled atop a tentacled chimera of epic size covered in toothy maws, flaming axe held high in one hand, stringy black hair waving free in the breeze, and with only a loincloth protecting his modesty.
I turned to Reidar to comment but had to hold in my laughter as the spartan glowered at the hero.
“Not a fan of how they romanticized him?”
“No, it’s accurate.” Reidar growled.
I did a doubletake, “Seriously? I remember in school reading an entire book about how he led Trebellia’s forces to pacify the Lakeland wilds enough to establish trade routes, but there was no mention of him doing it without a shirt, let alone pants.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time Ignitious’ church left out a significant detail. Though in this case, I think I approve. I’d prefer not to sew up imitating knights covered in preventable injuries because ‘their armor restricted their movements and made it harder to cast spells.’”
I chuckled, though had to pause when logic caught up to me, “Well… I’m not an expert when it comes to armor, but technically Hakon is right about the spellcasting.”
Reidar tilted his head, “He was?”
“Yeah, it’s one of the reasons High Elves wear flowing robes or dresses, and why we only wear half-plate. It allows ambient mana to follow airflows and contact our skin for easier synchronization.”
“Huh, I did not know that.”
I shrugged my shoulders, “It’s a moot point once you learn the basics of dwarven magic. Attunement lets you use armor or a weapon to counteract that limitation.”
“Is that why mages often carry staves?”
“Yep. Easy to carry, plenty of room to stuff it full of mana crystals and act like a magnet, and enough surface area to shuffle through ambient mana quickly.”
Reidar nodded his head, then turned to look at the tapestry of Ahkazriel, visibly deep in thought, “I’ll have to take that into consideration… if the monsters will be as plentiful as Drozuk claims, I’ll likely be able to commission a piece of customized equipment.”
“That’s right, I forgot that you get included in the loot share. Is there anything you have in mind? I was thinking of trying to inscribe my sabatons or bracers once I get approval.”
“Not sure… something that can conduct a lot of Wood Mana and…” Reidar tensed up before whispering, “stands out from the crowd.”
“Oh… right. Since you’re a medic, you’ll want everyone within twelve dozen yards able to quickly spot you.” I grinned, “I suppose I could make you a poleaxe, but you’d probably just get mistaken for me.”
Reidar grinned back, “I’m satisfied with my current armaments, learning a new weapon type would detract from my time studying medicine. But, if you have any ideas, I’d be happy to hear them.”
I scratched my thigh in thought, “Hmm, nothing comes to mind at the moment. I’ll let you know if I think of something.”
“Thank you, I’d appreciate it.”
A loud thud drew our attention as the lieutenant set a large wooden crate down on the floor.
“Careful you oaf! I just installed new floors!” The owner of the shop hinged open the lid, then started tossing out the contents. “This one’s for Reddy, this one’s for Bluey…”
The Creeksmith twins each caught their scarves, a predominately red square with blue stripes and a black and white checkered pattern, and another with the red and blue swapped. Although, “Bluey” looked quite annoyed at being given a nickname usually reserved for female infants.
“Doughboy, Dusty, Handsome…”
Drozuk caught a navy scarf with black mountains bordering the edges with an irritated grunt. Mattius got a black scarf with a large white circle in the middle surrounded by four smaller circles: two silver and two gold. And a blushing Galehaut received a pattern-less light grey scarf, but it seemed to shimmer purple when it caught the light.
“Antlers, Hopper…”
“Antlers?” Reidar questioned as he caught a forest green scarf decorated with black and gold stags.
Lancel however, smirked at the nickname, probably thinking about how it was the same one his dad was called, then transitioned to his signature grin when he looked over his pink scarf covered in silver bison.
“Last, and certainly least,” the old lady pulled out a checkered silver and white scarf, “a replacement for the one you wrecked last spring.”
She thrust the knitted item like it was a dead animal at the lieutenant, then spotted me awkwardly smiling after not receiving a scarf.
She rolled her eyes, then muttered in a barely audible tone to herself as she pulled a rainbow striped scarf from the rack, “Stop nagging, I’ll give the troublemaker one too.”
Troublemaker? Hold on, is this crazy-old-lady routine just an act?
I stared into the wrinkled eyes at the woman, hoping for a hint, but she only glared back, then waved the scarf at me.
“Well, are you going to take it or not?”
Hesitantly, I grabbed the offered item, taking a moment to study it more in depth. It wasn’t anything too fancy, just a striped mana color wheel, but it did include the colors for the four higher mana types. And to be honest, I thought it fit perfectly, given how it was my goal to learn about all twelve mana types.
A bit too perfectly…
“Now, get out of my shop!” The shop owner started shooing us away, “And get that boy some pants before the guards arrest him for indecency!”
“Boy?” Lancel stopped to turn around, “I’m twenty-eight!”
“Yet your cheeks are barer than a newborn!”
Okay, never mind. She’s as crazy as Arc gets on one of his bad days.
I pushed Lancel out, despite him clearly wanting to protest something about how Packers don’t grow facial hair, “Just pretend she’s a talking sword and ignore her.”
---
Anita – aka “Boss”
Ebony Thorn Thieves’ Guild
“Let’s… not do anything drastic… What do you want to know?”
Anita held her hands up, careful not to make any sudden moves as a flaming orb floated in front of Bones’ outstretched palm. She knew something had gone wrong when the kid showed up without Shadow, and carrying the sword they were supposed to pilfer out in the open for everyone to see, but having him suddenly start casting spells was not something she was expecting.
Bones grinned maliciously, then failed spectacularly to affect a threatening tone, “Who hired us to steal this sword?”
“Who hired us?” She narrowed her eyes at Bones, using the gesture to mask her mana sight. While not as skilled as the witches or cleric in her employ, her eyes were still sharp enough to see the grey light surrounding the sword, and the complete lack of mana around Bones… excluding the signature small cloud of whiteish-purpleish-pinkish mana hovering near his ear.
Frosted commandos! Some bug-eyed Ashman was playing Bones for a fool.
She fought the urge to clench her fists, to snarl, or anything that would allow her to vent her frustration, but knew that if she didn’t play along, that a swarm of hungry accountants would come to feed.
“Fanny Marlinshore. I assume you’d like to know where she hid the other weapons?”
Bones perked his ear to listen to the commando tugging on his line, then nodded, “Yeah, yeah. Where are they?”
“The Marlinshores have a secret armory in The Crescent Moons Opera House. There’s a hidden door in the broom closet by the ticket counter.” She paused to smother the snark in her voice, “I assume you’ll have no problem using magic to open it?”
The idiot smirked, “No, I’ll be fine.” He closed his palm to cancel his spell, completely oblivious to the full second delay for it to wink out, then turned to leave. “Oh, by the way, I’m quitting the guild.”
Anita finally broke her composure to sneer at the back of Bones’ head, then turned to face the hovering cloud of mana still floating nearby, “Having fun with your mission?”
A deep and gravely voice chuckled, “Got to keep those stories about adamantine weapons driving people insane alive. Otherwise, someone might get it into their head that they can go around robbing innocent young mages.”
Anita shuddered at the thunderous words and gulped, “Consider me spooked. Was there anything else?”
“Just a small exchange of favors. You make sure that the jarl gets an itinerary of every adamantine weapon you were hired to steal, and I’ll ignore the small pile of mana crystals you’ve squirreled away in that copperdillo skull behind you.”
Anita gritted her teeth, the only other person who knew about the stash was Rufus. She was going to have to exchange words with the lecherous old pig.
Or daggers…
Yeah, lots of daggers…
Lots and lots of daggers…
Just to make sure he knew not to blab about the guild’s secrets to those harlots on the riverfront ever again.
---
Travis
Gemstone Boulevard
The sun fell behind the horizon, signaling the locals to start lighting the prismatic glassworks above the theatre district, and once again making me gawk at the wonderous sights.
At least this time I wasn’t the only one paying more attention to the spectacles than our tour guide as our group passed a few bardic street artists playing with Light Mana, an opera house with dancing lantern lights above the night’s listed performance, and a fashion show with live models strutting up and down a catwalk.
I wish Arc was here to see this…
Thaddeus at least had his priorities in order after spending the afternoon perusing the various shops, “Are you sure we can get into a dinner show?”
Lieutenant Fernrod waved off the question, “We’ll be fine. It’s probably too late to reserve a private booth, but it’s rare for public seating to get—”
“Sold out!” A nearby barker shouted over the crowd. “Tonight’s tickets for ‘The Farmboy, the Spartan, and the Princess’ are sold out!”
“On second thought,” Fernrod continued as we watched a disappointed herd of people begin to meander to different venues, “we should hurry up. What are you guys thinking? Theater production, musical, comedy routine…?”
Lancel tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention and pull me aside, “Hey… uh, Galehaut already bought tickets for ‘Thunder on the Plains’, and… well… uh…”
I gave his shoulder a friendly pat, “It’s fine. It’s not like we won’t see each other for the next two months.”
“You sure? I could probably convince Galehaut to—”
“I’ll be fine dad. Lieutenant Fernrod is keeping an eye on us. Go have fun with your friend and stop hovering over me.”
Lancel let out a sigh, “Okay, okay… I’m sorry. It’s just… something’s been triggering my anxiety all day and…”
“Sounds like you’re in dire need of a distraction then.” I interrupted, then pulled him in tighter to whisper, “Hey, if you can, come by my room tomorrow morning before we launch. There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about, but… I’d rather do it when no one else is around.”
Lancel nodded, then reluctantly left with Galehaut, leaving me open for Drozuk and Mattius to grab me instead.
“Travis, we need you to help us outvote Reidar and the twins. They want to see a musical!”
---
Arc
Gemstone Boulevard – Exterior of The Crescent Moons Opera House
“So, let me get this straight.” Guard 1 spoke as he scratched his head. “You want us to run to the jarl’s palace, gather a bunch of reinforcements, then come back to arrest Fanny Marlinshore and some thief you’re going to have locked up in a closet full of illegally obtained weapons?”
“Yes.”
“How do we know that you’re really a commando?”
Fucking hell! This side-quest is never going to end at this rate!
“Okay, do you see me standing next to that scrawny Packer wearing the hooded cloak?”
“Uh… no.” Guard 1 turned to confirm Guard 2 was also shaking their head in the negative.
“Exactly! The only times you ever see a commando is if they’re delivering a message or assassinating someone. I’ve done the former. Do you want me to do the later?”
The guards flinched at my outburst, then exchanged glances before Guard 2 leaned into Guard 1 to whisper, “No real harm reporting this in. They’ll likely bump it up the chain anyways and have a knight take care of it.”
“Finally... You remember what to tell the jarl if he asks who sent you?”
The guards nodded.
“Good. Now move it. Double-time! The opera already started.”
I followed the guards with my focus for a distance to make sure they completed their task, doubled back to confirm Bones was still enroute, then scouted ahead to see if I could find the hidden storage space in the closet. It seemed like an odd spot to me when the boss of the thieves’ guild first told me of its location, but now that I’m here and have had some time to think it over, it makes a lot of sense.
The semi-public location allows for people to come and go without rousing suspicion, the clerks managing the ticket counter have a direct eye line to see if anyone enters the closet, and a mana-reinforced support pillar that just happens to butt up against the tiny room is impossible for any normal mana user to look through.
I mentally hold my breath as my focus passes through the wall and… Yes!
Five weapons in total. Two axeheads, two spearheads, and a Lakeland-style arming sword. Each one stuffed full of technicolor mana.
Just like me.
For the first time ever since coming to this world, I regretted not being able to cry.
I took time to inspect the weapons, watching closely as the mana inside oscillated up and down in pulse rate, and feeding the data into my translator patch to see if they were saying hello.
“Sword, can you hear me?”
My intangible heart skipped a beat, until I realized it was just Bones.
“Yes, I can hear you. What do you need?”
“I don’t think I can sneak in without the clerks noticing. Can you teach me a spell that’ll distract them long enough for me to get into the room?”
“Of course, simply point your finger behind the person you wish to distract and whisper, ‘over here’. A loud noise will play from behind your target, giving you time to complete your task.”
Okay, back to the weapons. My patch is picking up something… but nothing’s translating…
I do the “soul equivalent” of banging my hand against the side of a space heater, and to my surprise, start hearing a strangely appropriate buzzing sound to match my analogy. It keeps cutting in and out though, almost like…
Oh, you have got to be FUCKING kidding me! How, in the name of the gods and God, are these assholes sleeping!
Okay Arc, calm down, calm down. This is a good thing. You should be happy for these guys. They don’t have to almost go insane spending literal eras with nothing to do but watching people pass by.
“Well sword, looks like the boss was right. I can see what brick to pull out, but there’s nothing loose around the borders, or anything to grip to.”
Dammit, we’re already at the final step? I’m running out of time.
“Step back, I’ll get it.”
Bones grinned as I pulled out the brick to open the small hidey-hole, “You know, we make a good team. Once we get out of here, we should head north to the capital, there’s lots of noble estates filled with treasure for us to rob, and you can teach me more spells along the way.”
“We could, but there’s a small problem with that.”
The thief’s smile fractured ever so slightly, “What is it?”
“You don’t know how to use magic.”
“But… but…”
“Bones, this isn’t a fairytale. It takes years for a mage or knight to build up enough mana to become a wielder.”
“But… you’re a magic sword!”
“Bones… swords can’t talk.”
The thief stared at me in his hands, until the lightbulb lit up, dropping me on the floor and trying desperately to open the door before pounding on it and begging for help.
“You’re too late Bones. I’ve already jammed the lock with Ice and placed a [Sound Barrier]. You’re just going to have to patiently wait in here for the guards to come and arrest you. If you’re a good little minnow and cooperate, they’ll go easy on you. Your only crime was to be bait for a much larger fish.”
There, quest complete. Now, where was I? Oh, right. How do I talk to these guys?
Think… think… Adamanrion mentioned that I was still the equivalent of an infant god-wise, hence why I couldn’t directly speak to them… If these guys are all minor gods too… are they also infants? Or can they talk, but simply don’t know that I’m here?
Wait… but Travis could talk to Addy… he didn’t even have to do anything fancy, just speak. Although, he couldn’t hear them until they moved their mana into his poleaxe. What am I missing?
Think… think… it’s got to be something obvious; I just know it.
Wait a second…
I spin my focus around like I did for Adamanrion’s shrine on a whim… and… yes! Some of the mana in the weapons disappears.
Okay, so maybe that mystery mana that mortals can’t see is divine mana… or something along that line. And when it meets a person’s mana or object they’re attuned to, communication is possible.
Now, do I have this mana too? The only way I can see myself is through my focus, so I have no way to reliably compare… Ehh… I’ll just have to assume I do. If I don’t have it, nothing changes, but if I do…
Let’s see… How do I use that mana to make a conduit? Or even tell if I’m using it… The stuff’s invisible… My main sword body can’t even—
Oh, dammit! I’ve been using this strange mana ever since I was trapped in here!
Taking a few mental breaths to slow my racing mind, I hovered my focus gently over one of the spearheads, then pushed it inside.
Something… happened… I’m not exactly sure what…
It kinda reminds me of what happens when I dive into my own soul… but… there’s a grey energy barrier stopping me from entering…
Wait a sec…
I look around more closely, and it finally clicks.
My focus didn’t go into the spearhead, it stopped when it hit the metal.
I was looking at an ultra-magnified image of the spearhead. That grey energy barrier I hit was the outer shell, and inside it is all the mana this guy absorbed.
Hello. Can you hear me?
The constant buzz of snoring (that I didn’t notice until it stopped) ended, and a grandmotherly voice echoed out of the spearhead.
Henrick? Is that you? I thought you’d be dead by now.
No, umm… my name is Arc. Can I… ask you a few questions?
The woman’s voice shifted to something sterner, Questions? Hold on, you’re not of my blood. Skedaddle! Leave a poor old woman to her slumber and go pester your patron god if you got questions.
A harsh kick hit me right in the chest, de-syncing my focus as it got sent flying backwards and breaking whatever tenuous connection I had.
By the time my sword-brain stopped rattling around in my head, a heavy thud slammed against the closet door, busting the door off its hinges as an armored boot kicked it open.
---
Lancel
Gemstone Boulevard - Exterior of The Shouting Skies Theatre
Lancel stepped out to breathe in a deep gulp of fresh evening air, still a bit miffed over Galehaut failing to mention that he also invited the princess, her bodyguard, that Sympronian girl, and the rest of the women from the battalion to the exotic dance show, but overall feeling like a brewing storm had blown past before it could start raining.
“Wow…” Treblana spoke in awe as she stepped out with the others, “I did not know that identical quadruplets were a thing…”
“I still can’t believe you tricked me Sir Mistguard.” Princess Seleyna stiffly proclaimed, her eyes darting around to ensure nearby onlookers overheard her clearly, “Surely, had I known what tonight’s entertainment was, I would have declined your offer.”
He wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that the daughter of the woman he pledged fealty to was such a terrible liar, but in either case, it was probably for the best that she wasn’t the crown princess.
“Adaline, I’ve got a question for you.” Galehaut coyly inquired, still looking intoxicated. “Earlier when we were trying to help Lancel find a pair of boardshorts to buy, he got upset and claimed that ‘true Packer men’ wear kilts, just like Torbolt, but… I’m pretty sure the tight leather garments those Packer men were dancing in were pants.”
Lancel groaned, he was going to need to start planning his revenge now to get even before the solstice. Maybe Travis had some unused schemes locked away? It had already been nine years since the kid last pranked him, but he still had a habit of checking his boots for bees on occasion before putting them on.
Seeing his distress, Captain Adaline smiled back at the goliath and played along, “I can see why you might be confused Galehaut, riding chaps do look like pants at a glance, but if you pay close enough attention to the crotch and rear, you’ll notice a suspicious lack of coverage.”
“I did notice that. Thanks for enlightening me captain.”
“Anytime, but we should start heading back to…”
Captain Adaline faded out, noticing the commotion happening outside, centered around a wiry lad and a half-dozen Lakelanders clad in manacles. She pulled out a symbol denoting her status as a Royal Knight and approached another Hand of the Queen overseeing the operation.
“What’s going on?”
“Not exactly sure…” the other Royal Knight began, “We found a thief tied up inside the palace’s warehouse just before noon, but no one knew who caught him until his partner here,” they pointed to the skinny Packer, “claimed to do so before making off with this adamantine sword.” The knight held up the sword and scabbard they were holding.
Galehaut quickly sobered up and saluted, “Sir, I recognize that blade. It belongs to Initiate Elementalist Mage Travis.”
The Royal Knight sighed in relief, “Well, that’s one question answered… maybe you can help with the rest. According to Bones here, someone tricked him into thinking that this sword was talking to him and allowing him to cast spells. They then used him as a patsy to question one of the local crime lords and discover a hidden stash of other adamantine weapons, all without ever being spotted.”
Lancel furrowed his brow, he’d heard even crazier stories from the other Guard Captains whenever they met in the capital during the winter travel ban, but something about this story was ringing alarm bells in the back of his skull.
Captain Adaline’s thoughts must have been on a similar path, because she seemed just as skeptical, “How did all these people end up arrested then? And where’s this mysterious sword impersonator?”
“Well, according to the local guards, the commando who called for the arrest is under deep cover, unable to show themselves, only claiming to be ‘Bridget’s dad’, and that someone staying at the palace would know who they were.”
“Bridget?” Treblana whispered to Princess Seleyna, “Isn’t that Mattius’ and Travis’ Ashman friend?”
The princess nodded, then approached the Royal Knights, signaling for them to put up a [Sound Barrier].
Lancel sighed, then started chuckling as he watched Captain Adaline begin massaging her temples with one hand while pulling out a Message Stone with the other.
It was nice not being the one in charge.