“So how is our guest doing?” The Other asks Fleur over a simple breakfast.

“Surprisingly adept at finding the most expensive, mundane things in your Armory. Tillman knows the limits on what we should be allowing out into the world at large. He was a bit put off initially about the vocals you activated on his golem though.”

“We can’t have just anyone figure out your secrets after all. Any little thing helps, even with my reputation, people get suspicious when something too miraculous happens.”

“More people should be more suspicious of things you do because of your reputation though.”

“Ironically, it seems that in most circles it is deemed wise to ignore the things I do. Or, at the very least nobody ever asks me about them.”

“Isn’t it about time you accidentally obliterate a mountain or something? Remind people you aren’t to be meddled with?”

“Only about two weeks away actually. I have a couple of dragons to meet up with, enact a glorious battle, rampage for a while. Wait… Actually it will be a bit longer, I think I can use that as a distribution system for Dust… And I want it to be the final version as well… Decisions. Anyway, how did you know I was going to blow up a mountain?”

Fleur just stares at the Other for a moment before answering in complete monotone, “It’s not like you had half of the R&D department working on fault line data and magical drilling explosives for the last year to create or simulate a volcanic explosion. On a normal mountain. And the copious amount of material you brought back ten hours ago to build those devices.”

“Ah, see, it’s that type of deductive reasoning why we can’t have Tillman give away anything with his tone or inflections! Why did he volunteer for the job anyway?”

Fleur shakes her head slightly at the re-direction, and glosses over the fact Tillman had Gear cards he had wanted to use for a while.

“He used to teach, so he’s been starved for new intellectual stimulation for a while.”

“I see. And how is Saidel doing?”

“She seems to be happy, being able to move around with the sheepkin. She was singing about being a teapot while getting some tea ready for our guest this morning.”

“I’m honestly surprised she doesn’t use the golem more.”

“Unlimited vacation, remember? And strangely enough there’s enough variety being the not-quite-undead-abominations that we are to keep her occupied. Though I suspect she may start living in a castle of pillows after the girl’s demonstration last night.”

“Let me know if I need to head back north to see Thunderhammer Bladebill for more down if she believes she needs more pillows. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

“I still can’t believe that is his name. My husband told me about his great-great-granduncle Belacard trying to fight it. How did it even get that big anyway?”

“Promise you won’t get mad,” the Other says, sipping from his glass and looking sideways at Fleur.

“What can I do, yell at you? What happened? Clearly you’re implying it’s your fault there’s a thousand year old titanic duck floating around the North seas, so get on with it.”

“Well… The short version is he used to be a normal duck, until he told about all the trouble with weather and poachers the flock was having, and he accepted my proposal to become a floating mobile fortress of, well, ducks. That feeds and runs on magic. I had part of an island or three carved out so he could settle down in bad weather out of most of the wind. It’s not my fault he went on a rampage and walked through that port town and quacked at everybody as soon as I got done with him!”

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Fleur sighs and says, “It’s a surprise you haven’t actually doomed life on this planet by now. And for the record, I was told it was several ports.”

The Other waves her comments away and finishes his drink. “He had to be big enough to fight off dragons and leviathans after he got to a certain size anyway so I just kept going. Once he reaches Ancient status everything should still be fine. Besides, he hasn’t rampaged for 500 years or so. If it weren’t for the sailors bringing back stories every few years he would be entirely forgotten in those lands. I will admit he has gotten superb at creating selective barriers, which would be a terrible thing for any who waged war with him.”

“A different Drake of War. Do we need to do anything while you’re gone this time?”

“Tell R&D to stop production of those devices, let them know I want to include Dust distribution into the calculations so the initial plans may need to be modified. Heavily. I think I may need to find a different location as well. Ask around and see if anyone knows of volcanic eruptions in any stories they’ve heard, the bigger the better.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“My dear lady Fontine! Welcome back!” says Fennec in a suspiciously warm manner.

Fontine responds while putting her left hand on her hip and waving with her right, “What’s with you? It was an extra day is all, I’m back in one piece, and nothing happened that was more outrageous than ripping open holes in space-time or seeing a very enrapturing charm.”

“Ah…” Fennec replies, with an eyebrow twitch and slightly dark complexion.

“I think that what our fine Foxman is concerned about is any additional compensation you received from this old turtle,” Bertha, Fontine’s supervisor says.

“Yes, yes, paranoid as ever I see,” the Other begins, handing over a sheet of paper to Fennec. “These are the only things I had any type of influence in creating.”

Fennec looks over the sheet briefly before shaking his head. “One pillow, two blankets, five sets of clothes, one hat, a ‘small’ sized bag, and twenty other things. That tells me almost nothing. How much is all of that worth? Didn’t you tell us you were having money problems?”

“Now, now, don’t worry, there’s nothing world ending in what she picked out, I made sure of that. Even if she combines all of them there’s no way she should wipe out a small city with just their effects. And as far as the problems go, it’s too much trouble trying to get them appraised then sold, it’s far easier to just thrash a few people in a coliseum.”

“How. Much.”

Fontine looks over at the Other now, a bit more closely than before as she is also interested.

“Hmmm….” the Other begins, while looking nervous under the glares of both Fennec and Bertha. “If I rounded a bit and said a King’s ransom would that be sufficient?”

As he continues to get glared at, he finally breaks down and sighs in resignation.

“I can only tell you what they originally sold for since, well, you still don’t trust my estimates for materials and labor. Based on materials and labor for the coliseum when we built it, I could rebuild the city of Fluria twice and finance the government in both for a year.”

Silence ensues.

“But!” the Other says, raising a pointed finger into the air, “I believe 80% of that pricing is due to emotional components tied into the value of the items themselves! For instance, that pillow-“

“It’s fine,” Fennec says while Bertha is rubbing her temples. “Can she actually use them or will they just rot away in storage?”

“Unless things have changed, it would currently take Hellspring himself to realize what the enchantments do, and for the two most ancient clothiers for nobles and royalty on two continents to figure out how supposedly rare the materials are. She should be fine.”

“Great!” Fennec says, clapping his hands with a genuine smile this time. Bertha still looks slightly off-put, and just shakes her head. “Now, is there anything else we need to know about between now and whenever our descendants see you next?”

“Not much really. Though, now that I think about it, you may want to start preparing for a decade of cold weather at some point.”

That causes Fennec and Bertha to pause a moment while they both try to figure out how to ask a specific enough question to avoid unnecessary collusion.

“As an old friend, can you give me and Hellspring three years notice? Or is this the notice?” Fennec says.

“Oh no, not now, but once we finish stage two of the project, I suppose that will be acceptable, unless the planet itself decides to accelerate the plans,” the Other says, then mumbles, “After all, what’s a couple of extra years at that point…”

“You are as generous as you are magnanimous,” Fennec says with a slight but exaggerated bow.

“Clearly a poor attempt at flattery but I’ll allow it. If perchance I am unable to contact you at that time, I’ll make sure your people know. Actually, how would you like a global oracle, at 3 years just saying ‘Winter is coming’ and at the time of the event saying ‘Winter is here?’ I can’t guarantee a specific date, but will try and get it close.”

While Bertha is internally swearing up a storm, Fennec has a blank look to his face before saying in a soft monotone, “Yes, I suppose that would work.”

A few short words later, the Other exits the room in a surprisingly normal manner. Fennec motions for Fontine to stay a moment longer however.

“Miss Fontine, I do need to check one last thing since you mentioned it,” Fennec begins with his fingers laced in a bridge across his mouth so she can’t see his lips. He glances at the door, making sure it is closed and the Other has indeed left the room. “You said something about a charm, and I would like to know what you were speaking of.”

“Oh, that?” Fontine says with a mischievous smile. “When we were out and about the first day, he mentioned he used a charm to appear as a wendigo, that he had modified from the Ideal Woman charm, and he immediately proceeded to demonstrate the Ideal Woman charm. With various outfits as well.”

Narrowing his eyes even further, Fennec leaves a brief moment of silence hanging in the air before declaring to Fontine, “Very well, let us never speak of this charm again, especially to Hellspring. Leave and enjoy your pillow and other ill-gotten goods. And take the next week off.”