Day 20, May 25th, 2019

It’s been a while since my last entry. 12 days to be exact. A lot has happened. For one, I almost died. I’ll spare you the details, but in an effort to help Celsia I pissed off someone I shouldn’t have. That person’s name was Ada. Apparently she's crème de la crème here at the academy and has a pathetically fragile ego because of that. She sent her companion, something whose name is pronounced dangerously close to vomit, after me. I was out for 5 whole days afterwards. I was able to heal quickly thanks to some sort of healing arcane. A thing most people can’t do, apparently. I don’t know shit about it otherwise.

This aforementioned creature, which I will call a “Vahmit,” resembles a dog with a long, almost crocodile-like snout. It’s eyes, however, face straight forward despite being on opposite sides of the head. The thing was covered in a coat of dark gray fur. This one in particular was a female named Opie. These creatures display some degree of gender dimorphism, making its gender obvious. The only reason I know was because I was told after the fact. Frankly, these beasts, at least the females, look as if they should be on the bridge to Irithyll.

I’ll come right out and say that I do accept some of the blame for the situation. Though naming calling should not result in violent vigilante “justice.” It’s mostly behind me now, and my anger has become exhaustion. I’ve spent the last 5 days now recovering. Mentally and physically. Celsia seems over it, though she’s been rather distant. But to be fair, so have I. Trust is in short supply and will be for the foreseeable future. I need to be able to take care of myself, and by take care, I mean defend. I have a handgun on me, but that’s only good for seven rounds. I need a more permanent set of solutions. I’m not sure what I should do, but I’m sure I’ll think of something.

* * *

The cafeteria was bustling with its typical evening occupants. Groups of students happily and loudly chatted away. In the far corner away from the others, Otono slid into a seat across from Celsia.

“Sorry about being late, again.”

“Your friends dragging things on again?” she asked.

“Yes, you know how they are…”

They sat eating in silence for a time.

“You have been rather distant lately, Celsia,” said Otono, looking over a slice of bread.

“Sorry,” she sighed. “I have had a lot on my mind lately.”

“What?”

“You know exactly what. I have no idea what to do about him.”

“Well…” he said, pursing his lips. “There are no second chances with the contract and he has nowhere else to go, allegedly. The two of you are stuck with each other.”

“Tell me something I do not know, Otono.”

“You need to make the best of the situation.”

“Then what do you suggest, oh wise one?”

“A favor given is a favor earned.”

“Otono,” frowned Celsia.

“You did ask for a wise man’s answer…”

She grabbed her cup and tipped it back, chugging its contents in one go.

“Fine. You can have that one,” she dropped the cup back onto the table. “Now I want a real answer.”

“You need to give him a reason to trust you, Celsia. If you do not, nothing will get any better.”

“I think trust is well beyond repair at this point…”

“Maybe it is, but the only thing you can do now is try.”

“What favor would be worth anything to him?”

“He is an odd one, I would know from how much we have talked—”

“In the bathhouse?” she asked

“Yes, does he know that you know?”

“No, and if it means he at least tries to be quiet when he leaves, then he will not.”

“Regardless, he wants to know how and why things are. Teach or show him something. Maybe arcane? I think he would like that.”

“Otono,” she snorted. “Do you know who you are speaking to?”

“I never said it had to be anything difficult. Show him how to push leaves around, that is the first thing they taught us as children. I know you can do that.”

Celsia squirmed in her seat.

"I really do not want to do this Otono."

"Worst case is nothing changes immediately. Best case is he returns the favor. Who knows, maybe it will be something unexpected. He knows things we do not."

"You believe what he says?" She said, crossing her arms.

"Some of it does not sit well, but mostly I do. Do you not?"

"If he was from some 'other world' as he puts it, I would not be surprised. Otherwise I think he is a bag of loose rocks."

"You have not heard him lecture then."

"Oh? Enlighten me then, what has he taught you?"

"His people have been up there."

Otono looked past her, out the window. He pointed to the one moon, peeking out from behind the clouds.

"They built a mighty airship, called the ‘Saturn V’ and landed a few men up there. Well, not Celeste or Luna for that matter, but their own, named ‘Moon.’"

"And you believe that?" she asked.

"No one can make up the amount of detail he went into. We talked for two whole hours, Celsia. And he was able to answer every one of my questions."

She twisted around in her seat to look at Celeste as it came back out from behind the clouds.

"Let us, for a moment, say that is true. Do you think he would know what it is like to look down here from up there?"

"No, but if you give him enough time maybe he will, and so will we."

"He could not possibly!" she scoffed.

He shrugged.

"Just wishful thinking..."

* * *

The morning sun peeked over the treetops. A single ray of light poked through the gap in the shades, casting a long line across the room.

“Jack, wake up.”

He rolled over and made a noise. Celsia stepped over to the other side, facing him again.

“You need to get up.”

She knelt down and gently nudged him.

Fine, fine,” he said, lazily brushing her hand away. “I’m up, I’m getting up.”

Finally, Jack sat up and leaned himself against the wall.

“W-What’s up?”

“Get your things, we are going for a walk.”

“It’s, like…” he looked towards the window. “Early. Where we goin’?”

“You will see.”

Jack sighed and threw the sheets off himself. He grabbed his jacket and not knowing what to expect, his whole backpack. As Celsia locked the door behind them, it occurred to him that he hadn’t looked at his clock in a while. Jack fished it out of his bag and had a look. It read 9:48 am.

Well that ain’t even close to right, he thought. So much for that lining up nicely.

He blew air out his nose and dropped it back in his bag.

They walked down a path Jack wasn't familiar with, not that he was intimately familiar with the campus.

"So, you wanna to tell me where we're going?"

"The other side of campus."

The rest of the long walk was silent. He didn't bother asking her any more questions. She clearly wasn't interested in giving a straight answer. Still, he wondered what she was up to. Whatever it was, if it devolved like last time, he was armed.

Eventually they came upon a swath of land about the size of a tennis court that was composed of one large sheet of rock. On the far end were a series of beaten and blackened metal plates suspended by chains.

"Are those targets?"

"They are. This is the practice yard. No one is here this early."

"Then why are we?" he asked

Celsia reached into her pocket and pulled out her catalyst.

"I want to teach you arcane."

Jack blinked, surprised.

"R-Really?"

"Yes."

She spun around and scoured the grass, coming back with a fistful of leaves and placing them on the ground at her feet.

"First lesson: moving leaves."

Kneeling in closer, she grasped her catalyst and with a flick of the wrist, scattered them. Even something so ordinary amused Jack. He didn't think he would ever get over the fact that magic actually existed.

"How the hell'd you do that?"

Standing back up, she offered him the catalyst.

"Take it. I will show you."

Jack took it in both hands, inspecting it. From what he could tell, it was just just a carved and finished stick. Either end had a simple ridged grip, but one side clearly showed more use.

"So what's the point of this?"

"It allows us arcanists to project arcane. Anything could be a catalyst so long as it is robust, but not metal."

"So I could pull a stick off a tree and that'd work just as well?"

"It would, but we prefer something more… presentable, given we have it on us so much. Be it staff or pointer, we all have one somehow."

"This one's a pointer?"

"Yes."

He spun it around in his hand.

"And you can't cast anything without one?"

"That is what we were told. They also told us it might be possible..."

"What do you think?"

"Never seen it and I do not think I ever will," she shrugged. "Are you done with your questions?"

"For now, sure."

Celsia let out a huff, then piled the leaves back up.

"Now you get to try. Hold it by one end."

Jack did as he was told and made sure to hold it by the worn end.

"Now comes the more abstract," she continued. "You must envision two things: One is the medium, the other is form. The medium here is air or wind. I would like to think you know what wind is. Now imagine what it is.”

She was right, he knew what wind was. Of course he did. It was the thing that howled at him as he lay in bed staring vacantly at the ceiling late at night. It was the thing that used to make him worriedly fix his hair when walking to class. It was the thing that moved the trees as he walked underneath on his weekly, secluded walk. He knew why it was too, but that wasn't important.

"Now imagine the form. Something that moves forward. I thought of a line, so you do the same."

Jack didn't think very much of lines. He knew he was good at following them though, almost too good. Other than that, there wasn't much to them. He imagined one nonetheless.

"Are you following?"

"Yep," He responded.

"Good. Now aim at the pile."

He did.

"Now combine the medium and the form. Wind moving along a line, and at the same time focus on the catalyst."

"I don't have to flick my wrist?" he asked, mimicking the gesture.

"No."

"Why's that?"

"It is a common courtesy to let others know of a casting. Now focus."

He knelt down in front of the leaves and began following her instructions. Wind. Line. Combine them. Wind on a line, following it. Now add the catalyst. A few moments went by, but nothing happened.

"So uhh… Should something have happened by now."

"Yes. It may take a few tries, so keep at it."

"If you say so…"

After a while, he turned back to Celsia who had seated herself on a nearby bench.

"Am I stupid? I think I'm stupid."

"P-Pardon?" she stammered, snapping back into reality.

"I don't think this is working."

"How many times have you tried?"

"103. Yes, I did count."

She blinked.

"T-Truely?"

"Yeh."

There was a brief silence.

"I taught my nephew this, the exact same way. What am I doing wrong?"

Jack rubbed his chin.

"You don’t think I can’t actually do arcane? I mean, it would make sense given that where I’m from there is no such thing.”

"There is not?" she asked, somewhat surprised.

"Yeah, didn't I tell you?"

"Maybe," she shrugged. "But anyone can, even me, so why would you not?"

"I'm not part of the 'anyone' you claim to know, clearly."

"Then what makes you so different?"

"Hell if I know," he waved his hand dismissively. "Don't think that's a question either of us can answer. Yet."

Jack offered her back the catalyst.

"A letdown for sure, but good to know. Thanks anyway."

"No," she snapped. "Not thank you, not yet. I have not done anything for you yet."

"I, uhh…"

Celsia's assertiveness for such an uncharacteristic statement caught him by surprise. He thought about it for a moment.

"If you're so hell-bent on helping, then there is something…"

"What is it?"

“I’m not the most imposing person, if you couldn’t tell. I need something to help with that. I need a way to defend myself.”

She scratched her head, then perked up.

"Of course! It is still early enough to catch a carriage into town. I know the perfect place."

"I... honestly wasn't expecting you to say yes."

"Well I did. Let us go.

She rushed off with Jack in tow.

* * *

Just as Celsia said, a carriage rolled up to the campus entrance after a short wait. Jack was somewhat disappointed that it was pulled by horses and not some exotic beast. While he pondered the existence of horses, Celsia walked up to the carriage.

"This goes to Portstown?"

"Yes ma'am," said the driver. "We will be leaving shortly."

"Perfect, thank you."

She stepped up and into the carriage, Jack followed suit and plopped down across from her. After a minute or two, the carriage lurched forward heading back the way it came.

"So you said you know a place?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"My Uncle runs a smithy in Portstown, not too far from here."

"Is that so…"

"Mhmm, he owes me a favor as well."

Jack rubbed his chin.

"Is smithing a family business or is he an exception?"

"My family founded the Craftsman Union. My Father and Uncle now run it."

"That sounds important. I guess that explains how you could afford to go to an academy like this."

She shrugged.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

Jack entertained himself during the ride by scribbling down a few ideas he wanted to explore later. After a decently long ride, the faint sounds of civilization wormed their way into the carriage. He looked out the window as they passed a few sparse houses. Soon, the gaps filled and the rural became urban. The buildings, now squished against one another, weren't too much different from what he expected from an urban area. The homes soon became storefronts. Some had large, paned windows that displayed their goods. Others were merely stands set up on the side of the road.

The carriage came to a stop in what was presumably town square. Jack and Celsia stepped out and the carriage pulled away.

“Welcome to Portstown,” she said, turning to face him.

“It's a lot busier than expected.”

“This is a well known town. It attracts business from all over.”

He looked around, people of all makes and models walked around them. Only two things held true: they were all taller than him and were racially homogenous. Both things he had noted previously, but time and experience had only solidified them. One thing, however, caught his attention. It had nothing to do with the people, but rather what stood at the center of them.

Smack dab in the middle of the square was a dark grey obelisk. It was easily five times his height. Rows of different colored plates that stuck out of its sides gave it a Christmas-tree-like profile. Between each row large rounded blisters protruded from the surface. Whatever it was, it gave Jack the same vibe a poorly camouflage cell tower would: it didn’t belong here.

“The fuck is that?” he gestured to the obelisk.

“The Portstown Monument. And to answer your to-be questions... No, we did not build it. It was here when the city was founded, allegedly.”

Jack walked over to it. There were no railings or the like preventing him from getting close enough to touch it. Judging by the wear and tear at its base, he wasn’t the first one to touch it either. On closer inspection, it was obvious that it was metallic. The surface was smooth while the blisters, out of reach to him, looked to just as, if not more.

“This thing’s really weirding me out.”

“Weirding you out?”

“I mean, look at it. Doesn’t it seem way out of place to you?”

“Does it really spook you that much?”

"If it was just some pillar it wouldn't, but those panels and blisters are even a bit much for abstract art's standards."

“What do you mean?”

"I'm saying it looks odd, like not human, even by my standards."

"I think you might be giving that slab of metal too much thought."

"For all I know it's giving me a fair bit of thought too…"

She laughed.

"Intentional or not, you have a sense of humor."

“Thanks…”

Celsia turned on her heel and gestured for him to follow

“Let us go.”

The buildings along the road were all stores, as far as he could tell. Signs dangled down in front of each door. If this place was on Earth, this street would be designated the obligatory main street or market street that pretty much ever city or town has.

Sunlight glittered as it hit the many windows and other reflective surfaces. The sun itself had made its way above the horizon. Judging by its position, Jack wagered it was late morning, which would explain why he was squinting. While keeping up with Celsia, he swung his backpack around to his front and fished out a faded blue baseball cap. He whipped it onto his head.

"Much better," he mumbled.

As the buildings began to thin out Celsia finally came to a stop in front of one sizable home.

"Here we are," she said, turning around. "What in creation are you wearing?"

"A hat?"

"What kind of hat might that be?"

"A baseball cap."

"An odd name for an odd hat."

"And I'm an odd guy, but you already know that."

"Regardless…" she ran a hand down her face.

Celsia unlocked the front door and flung it open.

"Andre!"

After a few moments, an older man stumbled down the stairs. His greying hair gave off a sense of seniority without making him look geriatric.

"Celsia my dear! You are among the few who can wake me up from a nap."

His gaze shifted to Jack, he pointed at him then looked back to Celsia. She sighed.

"Andre, meet Jack. My companion."

"Your companion? I did not think you were much of a comedian, Celsia."

"I am not. No one knows how it happens. I found him in the forest, the rest is history."

Still standing on the stairs, Andre leaned against the wall.

"Anything to add, Jack?"

"No clue. I don't even know why I'm here."

Andre turned back to Celsia.

"He talks funny."

Jack sighed.

"He does, but you get used to it," she added. "And before it becomes relevant, because it will in a moment, he is my age."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I would not have guessed."

Jack eyed Celsia and ushered to get on with it.

"I am here for that favor you owe me," she said.

"Favor…" Andre paused, thinking. "Of course, that favor."

"Jack needs to be able to defend himself."

"Is that so?"

"It is part of a companion's job to stand by their master's side."

"I know, I know. I need not have someone smarter than me, lecture me," he teased. "But if that is the case, why come to me? We live in a world of arcane."

"Well that's just it," Jack butted in. "I can't. We figured that out this morning, now we're here."

"Oh… You have dirt for luck, no?"

"That ain't even the half of it…" he said, rubbing his arm.

Regardless, did you have any ideas? A blade perhaps?

Jack laughed.

"Do I look like a swordsman to you?"

"He would struggle," added Celsia.

"Thank you," he continued. "I'd make a far better marksman."

"Then that settles it!" Andre gestured to him. "Come with me. I will show you what I have."

He turned to Celsia.

"You stay here. This is one on one."

"I know, I know," she waved her hand dismissively. "I will be upstairs."

"Make yourself at home and keep my seat warm for me, will you?"

She pursed her lips as she climbed the stairs. Andre directed his attention to Jack and gestured for him to follow.

"So you would consider yourself a marksman?" he asked.

"More than I would a swordsman."

They came into a room full of racks, shelves, and barrels. Items of all kinds filled the room. From bits and bobs of metal or wood to full blown greatswords. Jack pointed to a breastplate hanging on the wall.

"Is that a copper breastplate?"

"Close. Coprun actually."

"Coprun?"

"A mixture of copper and tin."

So bronze then, he thought

"Why not iron or steel?"

Andre took it off the wall and spun it around. Riveted to the inside was another metal plate.

"Steel, for physical protection, on the inside. Coprun, for arcane protection, on the outside."

"You can defend against arcane?"

"Most of them. Copper is far better, but not as strong."

"Huh…"

"Regardless, Jack, what are you experienced with? Short bows, tall bows…"

"Crossbows, actually."

"Crossbows?"

"Yeah, like, a bow with a stock and a trigger?" he said, pretending to hold one.

"Never heard of such a thing."

Jack rubbed his temples.

You've got to be shitting me.

"Do you know how to make one? If you know, I could know."

"I know how they work."

"That will be good enough. We have all day!"

"You think it could be done today?"

Andre laughed.

"I came out of my mother a craftsman. Of course it can!" he paused. "Unless a lot of metal work is involved. There is nothing quick about working with metal…"

"A few plates and pins, nothin' too much."

"Perfect!" he turned to the doorway. "Celsia!"

"What?!" her voice echoed its way downstairs.

"I hope you have no other plans today, we will be a while!"

"Do not let him convince you to do anything stupid!"

"Yeah, yeah!" he retorted.

"My definition of stupid is very different from hers," said Jack.

Andre chuckled.

"So is mine."

He spun around and marched towards the door on the other side of the room.

"To the workshop!"

Andre led him through the house into a large room. The room's walls were covered with tools and equipment. The far wall, which was bare, was actually a set of barn-like doors which Andre pushed open revealing a yard of dirt and greenish grass. Just outside under an extension of the roof was a furnace and an anvil.

"If you can explain to me what a crossbow is…" he said, setting himself down on a nearby stool. "Then I will do my best to replicate it."

"Uhh… I can try."

Jack pulled out his notebook and began drawing.

"I'll need to show you though."

To the best of his ability, he explained the concept of a crossbow while drawing out a rough concept. Andre was eyeing his pencil, but held his tongue.

"This’ll help."

He handed his notebook to Andre.

"How did I never think of this?" he said, scratching his head.

"I was surprised to hear you hadn't."

"I take it right here is the so-called 'rolling nut trigger'?"

Jack looked to where he was pointing.

"Yep, just a little rolly bit that holds the string, locked in place by the trigger."

"What about the bow? How is that attached? Is it even attached, or is this all one piece of wood?"

"No, that's a separate piece, the prod as they call it," he said, rubbing his chin. "Historically, they lashed it on. I think."

"That gives me a fairly good idea of where to start…"

Andre shot up from his stool and ran into the other room. He came back with a thick plank of wood.

"You think this will be thick enough?"

"Looks good to me."

"Perfect. Now if you could, hold it like you would a crossbow, as best you can. I need to get an idea of the spacing.

Looking it up and down, He nodded as Jack held it somewhat awkwardly. Andre took it back and scoured the nearby shelves.

"Aha!" he exclaimed.

He pulled a tool off the shelf, a saw. He brought both over to a large table. With a clothed item already on the table, he began tracing a pattern into the plank.

"What's that thing?" asked Jack.

"Oh this?” he said, holding it up. “This is just baked clay and charcoal. Someone at the Union came up with it. She called it a marker because, well, it marks things. That includes my hands, so I cover it with a rag."

Andre finished tracing and clamped the plank to the table with a hefty looking vice.

"Make yourself comfortable, this will take a while."

Jack sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall as he hacked away.

As the hours went by, Andre would pose the occasional question, or asked for his input which Jack quickly answered or obliged. It was nothing short of miraculous how quickly and effectively he worked. When Andre presented the mostly finished frame to him, it turned out he got the dimensions almost perfect. Something Jack had not expected, especially since he had eyeballed it.

"Wow. You sure you don't know what a crossbow is? This is good."

"Sure, very sure. I just have an eye for these things."

"Well anyway, we just need to make the prod n' the trigger."

"Yes yes, I will need you to try out a few things first."

Running back out of the workshop, Andre came back with a couple bows.

"I want to see what kind of bow, err... prod, I will need to make. If you are drawing it with both hands as you described, it will be stout given the size of it."

"That sounds about right. They were stubby and thick from what I can remember."

"Perfect. Now try these, will you?"

As Jack tested the bows, all of which appeared to be short bows, they got stiffer and stiffer. After the fifth, he was able to pull them all back with minimal effort. Andre came back with some "tall bows," which he then tested. Eventually he came to one individual which he could just manage to draw, even with both hands.

"We have a winner!"

Andre took the culprit and set it aside.

"Now I get to put all the power of that beast into some little one. I have made a lot of bows, but never something so specialized. This might take longer than usual."

Once again, Jack made himself comfortable on the ground. Andre found a hefty plank and with a variety of tools, began to carve it into shape. Once he had the rough shape, he filed out notches on either end and strung it. For what felt like a small eternity, Andre followed a repetitive process of mounting the prod on an apparatus to hold it drawn, gingerly shaving off a small bit here and there, then comparing it to both the frame and the model bow. When finally finished, he set it down and ran off once again.

Andre returned holding a mason jar about the size of a paint bucket. It was mostly full with an amber-ish liquid.

"What's that?"

"Oil," he answered. "Better to seal everything now before we put it together."

The jar clinked as he dropped it on the table and unlatched it. With an old, beat up brush fetched from a shelf, he coated both pieces making sure to wipe up any excess.

"This will take a moment to dry enough to work with again," said Andre. "But it will take a few days to dry completely. Avoid getting it wet until then."

"Will do."

"While we wait, I need a drink. Would you like something?"

"Water will do."

He gestured for Jack to follow. They made their way back through and up the stairs Andre had first come down from. At the top was a quaint common room much better decorated and furnished then the downstairs. Celsia was nowhere to be seen.

"Where'd she go?" asked Jack.

Andre shushed him and krept through a doorway across the room. After a few moments of silence, he heard a loud clap and an even louder screech, followed by Andre's bellowing laughter.

"Andre!" yelled Celsia. "I told you not to do that!"

They came back into the room.

"What happened to all that work you had to do?"

"We are taking a water break."

He stepped out for a moment and came back with a pitcher and glasses. The three of them sat themselves at the table in the corner of the room.

"What are you putting together down there?" Celsia asked, while Andre filled their glasses.

"He calls it a crossbow. Ingenious and deceptively simple."

She raised an eyebrow and turned to Jack.

"You came up with it?"

"I know how they work, but I didn't invent it. The credit goes to some now-dead guy."

"Have you ever made one?"

"No… Well, there was that one toy I modified, but no, I haven't."

"Then if you do not make them, why bother knowing how?"

"I study weapon history for fun," he shrugged. "I like knowing how things work. Anything from or between medieval times, the world wars, and the Cold War is fair game."

"The whats?" questioned Andre.

"Shit, right, you don't know any of that. I'm not from around here, Andre."

"Then where from?"

"Not from this world. Or so he says," added Celsia.

"Is that so..." Andre scratched his head.

"Believe it, or don't," Jack said. "I'm pretty much done tryin' to convince anyone. The more I try to talk about it, the more confused everyone gets."

"It would certainly explain your oddity."

"Odd may be an understatement," Celsia blurted out.

Jack sighed.

"Thanks for the much needed commentary, Celsia."

"Do not think much of it. She talks like that to almost everyone. Myself included."

"Are you going to talk about me like that when I am seated next to you?"

"See?" chuckled Andre.

He reached over and squeezed her shoulder.

"Mmph…" she pouted.

"Grumpy today, are we? Was it because we interrupted your nap?"

"Maybe it was…"

"Well, I think breaktime is about over. You can go back to sleep."

Celsia grunted, got up, and left the room.

"I think the pieces should have dried by now, best we get back to it."

"Sounds good."

They made their way back to the workshop.

"She does not just treat anyone like that, you know."

"Oh really?"

"She only ever uses that sharp tongue of hers on people she knows will not take it personally."

"Then she knows me better than I thought. I end up turning most of her insults around back at her one way or another."

"Then she has finally met her match," Andre said. "I suppose one way to look at it is that she feels comfortable enough around you to say those sorts of things."

"I dunno… I think it stems more from a place of contempt. I think she would have preferred any other creature besides me."

"Right, you are her companion. Is that true or some elaborate joke?"

Jack gestured to the back of his neck.

"Well that answers that," he said, eyeing the brand. "I would think she would at least be impressed that she caught a man."

"And that's what I told her!"

"She was not?"

"Not even a little. I swear, I don't get her one bit. She goes on and on about how she doesn't want me, then turns around and goes way out of her way to do me a favor!"

"Perhaps she is trying to win your favor?"

"All she would have to do is treat me nicely. Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if she's trying to use me to get something. Do a favor, get one back. Wouldn't be the first time…"

"Celsia is a sweetheart if you can through her shell. In the meantime she will take the long way around the lake in order to show any compassion. She is just like her mother..."

Back in the workshop, Andre re-strung the bow and handed it to Jack.

"Try pulling this back, will you?" he asked. "I would say it has the draw strength of a decent tall-bow. Perhaps... sixty bars?"

Jack took it and attempted to draw it, only being able to with both hands.

"Again, right on the money. You sure know your way around wood working, don't you?"

"Been doing this since I was a child. These days I make equipment mostly for hunters. Bows, arrows, knives, and the like, they are the only ones who need them. Gone are the days where men ruled by the sword..."

"Why don't they use arcane too?"

"They prefer something more subtle. Arcane has a habit of being a bit too effective, if you know what I mean."

"I see…"

"Regardless, now that the frame and prod are done, we just need to mate the two."

"You have a plan?"

"Yes."

Andre began to carve a shallow notch into the prod. When finished it was about a centimeter or so deep.

"Now for the frame…"

He measured out a slot to set the prod back a few centimeters and grabbed another saw from the shelf. This one was a bow saw strung with a thin, rough looking wire. Andre hacked away, carving out a slot, but neglected to cut all the way back. When the cut block pooped out, he donned a chisel and began to form the male end of the notch on the prod. Next, he hammed the two together with a mallet and looked it over.

"Snug or not, it'll still fall out," said Jack.

"Getting to that…"

With a grunt, Andre pulled the two pieces apart. Bringing only the frame, he walked to a large object on the corner. On close inspection Jack realized what it was.

"Shit. Is that a drill press?"

"Well, it is a drill that presses into things…" he answered, fiddling with the machine. "I suppose you could call it that. In fact, I think I will call it that."

"You uhh… you didn't have a name for it?"

"Not until now. This has not existed for long. Myself and a few local craftsmen I know well put it together. We were planning to present it at the next big Union meeting."

Andre lined up the frame carefully under the drill bit which he held up and out of the way with his free hand. He clamped it to the working table and gently touched the bit down onto the frame. The hefty flywheel attached to one side began to spin as Andre began to turn the crank. The drill slowly dug into the wood creating a hole through the width frame. He repeated this process a few more times in the same area and connected the holes by stringing the wire of the bow saw through. The result was a hole large enough to fit three or four fingers through.

Once again, Andre hammered the prod back on and with thick cord he retrieved from another room, looped it through the hole and over the prod on either side. He did this a few times before loosely tying it off.

"And there we go!" Andre exclaimed. "That will hold it in place when I tie it for good. For now I will remove it to make our job easier going forward."

"Nice. Now all we need to do is the trigger and what not."

"I am afraid mechanical contraptions do not come to me as easily as other things do. I will most certainly need your close instruction."

"Sure thing. We should make some sort of test… thing on some scrap wood to make sure we get it right the first time."

"Then let us get to it!"

* * *

It took Jack and Andre the remainder of the afternoon and into the evening to design, test, and add the trigger system to the crossbow. Most of its components were made of hardwood with metal inserts. Luckily for them, the relatively soft bronze made it so all that had to be done was some filling, hammering, and at the worst, some use of the drill press. No forge needed..

As the sun was approaching the horizon, it flooded the workshop through the still open barn doors. Andre held up the newly finished weapon in the light and inspected it.

"Truly beautiful, even if odd."

He turned to Jack.

"How about we try it out? There are some targets set up outside."

"Sure thing."

Andre marched out the door and into the grass. Sure enough, just around the corner was a target propped up by some planks.

"I think it would be fair if you tried first."

Jack snorted.

"I'll pass for now. I'd rather figure out it doesn't work before I'm holding it so close to my face. Let's prop it up and trigger it from a safe distance first."

"Yes, I am getting ahead of myself. Best to avoid a face full of splinters. This is not your average bow. Not even a bow, in fact."

Jack placed his foot in the stirrup and spanned the crossbow. The new string, much thicker than the last, rolled the nut into position. The trigger clicked in place thanks to a simple V-spring keeping it under tension. He placed a bolt, which Andre had thrown together earlier into the notch. As gently as possible, he propped it up on a few rocks and tied one end to the trigger. Taking a few large steps back, he pulled the string taut. Jack then turned to Andre, who nodded.

"What's the word they say? Uhh… loose?" He said, giving the string a tug..

With a thunk and the characteristic rattling whir, it sent the bolt downrange into the target.

"It works!" clapped Andre. "And not a splinter in sight!"

"Well color me surprised, it didn't explode. What a nice change of pace."

"Now that we know, you have to try it."

"Alright, alright."

Once again, Jack spanned it and loaded a bolt. He shoulder it and rested a finger gently on the trigger. It was a bit far forward for his liking, but was manageable. Without any actual sights, he had to aim by looking down the length of the bolt. He breathed out and squeezed the trigger, sending a bolt into the lower half of the target. Andre clapped excitedly yet again.

"Now you try," said Jack, offering him the weapon. "I know you want to."

"We have only just met yet you know me so well!"

He took the crossbow and loaded it. It sat somewhat awkwardly in his grip thanks to his large frame. Jack smirked at the sight as he watched the bolt fly downrange. Andre smiled and gave the crossbow back.

"I will be just a moment."

He dashed back into the house. A few minutes later he came back out practically dragging Celsia.

"You should have told me he was this smart earlier!"

"What did he do?" she asked.

"I'm not smart," sighed Jack.

She took the crossbow and inspected it.

"You put a bow on a stick?"

"You could say that."

"That is not just some stick!" shouted Andre. "Go on then, show her!"

Jack shot another bolt into the target.

"You made that?" asked Celsia.

"We made it," he said, pointing to Andre.

"And you told me how."

Celsia scratched her head.

"Does this mean you are done for today?"

"I suppose it does. It is gettin' late."

Andre nodded.

"I will gather my things then."

She made her way back into the house.

"She didn't seem particularly impressed," mumbled Jack.

"She was, she just fails to show it well."

"You on the other hand, show it very well."

He laughed.

"How could I not? You just reinvented the bow."

Jack waved his hand dismissively.

"I didn't do shit. I'm just doing what's already been done."

"Well, it has not been done here. I know quite a few people who would pay a fair bit for something so simple, yet effective.

"Speaking of which… could you keep this a secret for the time being? I'd like to have an advantage, at least for a while."

"I did not plan to sell it. We have a few rules in the Craftsman Union, one forbids me from reproducing someone else's creation without their permission. If I did not follow them, who would?"

"I'll give you permission one of these days. Fair compensation for helping me today."

"Even if I had not owed Celsia a favor, I would have done this for you regardless," Andre scratched his head. "I do things to help family, and considering you are her companion, I suppose that makes you family."

"Well… uhh…" stammered Jack. "I feel like 'thank you' might not cover that."

"No need to worry."

Andre turned and headed back into the house.

"Oh. Since Celsia most certainly did not, I will in her stead."

"What?"

"Welcome to the Seliota family, Jack."