Interlude – Halfseekers (Pt. 6)

This was Jelaqua Ivirith’s tale, but like a candy bar, it sometimes revolved around one of its ingredients. Much like a peanut, Kevin found a way to make it about himself.

He missed candy bars.

Dead gods, he missed Snickers. You couldn’t have paid him to eat the stuff back home, and here he’d kill a small rat for it. Not Rhata or Haldagaz, but some other rat, definitely. With his bare hands, which was gross and dangerous, but—

Oh, right. Not the time for this.

Kevin Hall sat up. He heard the faintest of sounds in the distance. A ringing—and his arms and shoulders were scorched. He thought, vaguely—

I’ve dislocated my arm. Ow.

Then he felt around at his sides. There was a sensation on his skin, between the ringing and the blisters forming and his arm screaming as he tried to reset it with only a vague understanding of how that worked.

Healing potions. He had six, all from another world. But Kevin wasn’t reaching for those. He gazed up, and though he couldn’t hear it, he could vaguely see the outline coming his way in his blurry, shaking vision. The roaring howl was shivering his flesh, and he could smell the stink of blood and something animal in the air.

“Sorry. I’ll finish it. Sorry—”

He sat up, and the wounded monster screamed at him with a beak that opened wide, wider than you would think was possible. Kevin carefully lifted something in his hands, and the impact slammed him onto the ground.

He lay there—now fully deaf until he could grab a potion and drink it. Only then did the ringing recede and his pains began to ease. The young man thought and spoke the same thing.

“Fuck. I knew it; I’m not cut out for this.”

Adventuring was hard. Who knew?

 

——

 

Jelaqua Ivirith wondered if she was dreaming when she woke up the next day. She pinched Maughin, and he woke up.

“Ow. What was that for?”

“Just checking to see if I’m awake. Did…did I say anything when I came in last night?”

Maughin grunted as he rubbed at his cheek.

“Only that you’d been out with an old friend who was, in fact, a new friend, and that you were very sorry we couldn’t be, ah, intimate. It was fine. Then we slept. Oh, and that Liscor was selling new charms.”

“Right. Good. Not dreaming then.”

Moore was back. Lord Moore, that was. Lord Raithland, right…call him by his new name. Jelaqua hugged her knees to her chest, then Maughin added.

“I like the braziers. The Watch came by twice to ensure they were safe fires. I told them they were.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah…sorry, I didn’t ask—”

“I like them. Even if I cannot forge with them, they belong to you. People should know and be proud.”

He smiled at her, so solid in his support she remembered why she liked him again. She might have tackled him, but then Maughin added.

“You didn’t, ah, get to Esthelm to ask Master Pelt about the forge, did you?”

“Oh, damn! I forgot! I’ll go today! I promise!”

“It’s fine. All the [Smiths] are having a meeting about Dwarfhalls Rest. Again. They’ve begun to put Mithril on the markets, and between that and their steel…”

He looked worried. Pallass was no longer the smithing giant of its region that it used to be. Dwarfhalls Rest could ship its metals via Invrisil, which meant competition, especially because the Dwarves had knowledge Pallass’ smiths lacked.

Jelaqua scrambled out of bed to start cooking. Maughin could do it, but he was so methodical that by the time the toast was done he’d barely have finished any other part of the breakfast. She hit a heating rune and tossed together food with long practice as she called over her shoulder.

“How bad is it, Maughin? You’re still Pallass. They can’t muscle you out of the metal market, can they?”

“Of course not. In fact, the Walled Cities are going to try to ratify some treaty that means they’ll have to buy at least 50% metal from southern cities. It’s just…difficult. Mass-scale manufacturing will always be wanted. But premium, custom work?”

Ah, that was going to the Dwarves in Dwarfhalls Rest. And that was where a [Smith] like Maughin made his money. He elaborated after a moment, placing his head on the dinner table.

“Pelt can get that work, but I can’t move Mithril like he does. My forge, again…I’m not even sure where the Dwarves are getting the Mithril. They might be importing it from Terandria since there are no local veins. Between that and Demas Metal, how many people want my plain steel gear? My best work is a mithril alloy—they’re able to produce twenty times what my forge does in mithril!”

“Aw, Maughin…just see how many come by when you get a hand on that Adamantium! Or how about that magical fire stuff that Pelt was talking about?”

Glumly, the Dullahan pointed at his forge.

“I’ve been focusing on the Adamantium. I managed to make a hammer that can survive the forging process, and I’ve got some of the techniques down to make smaller bits, but the fire’s the key for working the huge block. Esthelm is where all the magical fire smithing is taking place. Pelt’s apprentice, Emessa? She made her first crystal-inlaid sword the other day. Very fine work. Not practical, perhaps, but very salable.”

He was feeling outmatched. And, like a hermit crab, was hunching in his armor like someone weathering blows. Jelaqua sighed.

“I’ll visit Pelt first thing. Promise!”

That made him brighten up. Just to prove she wasn’t staying away from the inn any longer, Jelaqua did stride out of the door, heading straight for the 8th Floor. On the way, she ran into a familiar face.

“Oh, er, Chaldion. Good morning.”

The Drake didn’t react as a few heads turned and stared at him in his chair. He peered ahead vacantly, bandages still covering parts of his body. The [Healer] assigned to him nodded.

“Miss Ivirith. Good morning from the both of us.”

“Yeah, a nice one. Hello Healer Ulla. Hey, Chaldion, hanging in there?”

The [Healer] appeared mildly scandalized, but Jelaqua just crouched down next to the wheelchair. The Drake said nothing at all. She inspected the bandages.

“Is he still healing?”

“He’s…better than last week, Miss Ivirith. His body is very old, and the healing potions didn’t work on these particular—his condition is very stable.”

That wasn’t a great endorsement, but he shouldn’t have been alive. They cut him to ribbons. Jelaqua eyed the bandages and wondered exactly how much damage was being hidden by the cloth. She stood, patting the Drake on the shoulder.

“Well, we’re both headed for the inn. He likes it there?”

“I think so. At least, I haven’t had orders not to…and they’re very polite. Even with the Goblins and Antinium. We get in most days unless there’s some emergency.”

“Oh, so you know how to get there?”

After last night, Jelaqua was surprised, but the [Healer] winked slightly at her. The Gnoll leaned over.

“Miss Liska helped us.”

“Ah. Great.”

 

——

 

There was a slightly longer wait to get into the inn today. Jelaqua wasn’t sure why, but suspected Lord Mireden had contributed to the crowds—until she heard and saw someone walking down the line and realized it was also on Pallass’ side.

“Citizens of Pallass! This is a Public Warning issued by the Assembly of Crafts across all floors!”

An official of some sort was marching down the street and shouting, and sounds reduced temporarily as everyone turned. Jelaqua pivoted, surprised.

“All floors?”

Normally, you heard this kind of thing semi-frequently advising of incidents such as crime or a burst water main or elevator being down, mostly safely. But an all-floors announcement…the Wyvern attack sprung to mind, but that had been too fast for an alert like this. Besides, if it was huge, they’d use the spells to speak across the city. Jelaqua listened as the Drake went on.

“There have been sightings of a Vorpal Rat entering and exiting the sewers! All citizens are instructed to remain calm but report any odd smells or traces of large monsters to your nearest Watch or security station at once! Thank you!”

Jelaqua smirked slightly as the official passed, though most citizens were whispering, somewhat nervous.

“Only one?”

The official had to pause as Healer Ulla waved a claw and clarified, yes, only the one. When he’d passed on, the [Healer] turned to Jelaqua.

“A monster in Pallass! Normally, it’s just Sewer Slimes—what’s so funny, Adventurer Ivirith? It might not be a threat to you or Master Maughin, but I shudder to imagine a child running into a—a Vorpal Rat!”

Jelaqua was trying not to snigger, and she explained hurriedly.

“Sorry, I’m not making light—it’s just whomever reported that thing didn’t know what they saw. Vorpal Rats don’t exist. They’re an urban legend.”

Some people in line turned to Jelaqua, and Ulla frowned.

“What? Surely they do. With how many rat breeds, there has to be one—?”

“Nope. Believe me, I’ve read bestiaries and hunted rats long enough across multiple continents. It’s one of those fake monsters that sounds real. It’s probably a placeholder or something until they figure out what it is. Sort of sloppy though, eh, Chaldion?”

She nudged the wheelchair, and the Drake—twitched slightly. His eyes flicked up and went down until he was staring at the ground. Jelaqua and Ulla waited, hopefully, but he said nothing.

“Well, whatever it is, I hope they catch it!”

“Probably just a Giant Rat. You can get ‘em eighteen feet long without the tail. Don’t worry, though, Pallass keeps their sewers cleaner’n that.”

Jelaqua began describing the multitudinous rat species she’d fought and killed, some of which could be Gold-rank threats at size or in nests large enough. Then she realized no one was interested and sighed. It was hard being an adventurer.

 

——

 

The lines moved fast enough after that, and then they were in the inn where a rather amused Liska was having fun.

“Where’s the inn? I dunno. It’s a mystery.”

“You have to know. I want to see the inside!”

A man with a round belly and [Merchant]’s attire was bothering her. Liska scratched at her stomach.

“Listen, buddy. I just get paid to operate the door. I don’t do tours of the inn, wherever it is.”

She was having way too much fun from the twinkling in her eyes. The [Healer] and Jelaqua moved towards the door as the [Merchant] peered around as if he couldn’t see it. His voice took on a hopeless tone.

“But surely they have to pay you! Or you have some inkling of where you go to get to it?”

Liska scratched at her chin.

“Well, it’s hard to say. Sometimes it feels like a huge journey to get from the inn to here. I often think, ‘can I make the trip?’ And sometimes I just give up. That’s why they gave me the couch, see?”

She pointed to it. Liska nodded to the people in line, clearly eavesdropping and aware of the new phenomenon.

“It’s a long and winding path. I can’t motivate myself, sometimes, even though I get free meals…lots of hiking.”

“Aha! So it’s in the mountains?”

“The ups, the downs, the straightaways…who can say?”

Jelaqua managed to get into the hallway before she started laughing. She passed down the trap corridor and into the dreadfully far inn where Liska sometimes felt her courage falter and the horrifically tall staircase to her room the Gnoll sometimes gave up on. Or maybe she’d been referring to the outhouses.

“Jelaqua! There’s my favorite Selphid! Are you coming regularly again?”

Nanette bounced over, and Jelaqua tousled her hair.

“The only Selphid you know! Thanks anyways, and maybe—I’m here on business actually. Here’s old Chaldion—is Pelt in? Anything interesting happen?”

She doubted it, but better to check here than look silly in Esthelm. Besides, getting the daily scoop was important.

Nanette shook her head; she’d braided pigtails today.

“So far? No Goblin Kings.”

“Ah, nice, nice. Where’s Lyonette?”

She normally was about, but Nanette sighed.

“Having morning singing practice with her friends. I don’t want to sing. Mrsha’s off at school. And I’m studying! Today, I’m taking lessons with Hethon.”

“As in Hethon Veltras? You do that every day?”

“Nope! Sometimes it’s Riverfarm and [Witches], sometimes I just do what I want.”

Not a bad life. Jelaqua nodded.

“Esthelm then. I’ve got to help Maughin with forge stuff.”

“Ooh, if you’re there, can you see if you can find Randy for us? He didn’t come in last night, and Lyonette isn’t worried so much as curious. He’s got all kinds of projects he keeps hinting he needs Rhaldon’s help for, and guess who’s coming?”

“…Rhaldon? Do I know him?”

“Black skin, drives a wagon with one of Erin’s rooms in it? Does [Alchemy]? Termin’s apprentice?”

“Uh…yeah! Sure, I’ll ask about K—Randy.”

Right, she had to remember Kevin was dead. Kevin…another person Jelaqua had to catch up on. She shook her head and did an about-face. Esthelm.

 

——

 

Esthelm was filled with people! They were all flooding towards the crafter’s district where huge signboards were advertising.

Charms of Liscor & Esthelm! Unique trinkets with powerful effects! Limited quantities!

 

“Huh. He actually did it, the tall bugger.”

Jelaqua hadn’t been there when Lord Moore had pulled his stunt, but she’d heard the buzz, and she put her hands on her hips. She bet he’d commissioned that signboard; it looked too snazzy with actual paint to be slapdash.

An organized Moore with magical acumen and who could play politics or economics. What a threat.

Her heart hurt. Jelaqua shook her head, resolving to check out said charms later. First, Pelt.

 

——

 

The problem with Master Pelt was that he was no longer a drunken wretch held hostage by his grief and guilt. It meant the Dwarf had a schedule and work. So did Emessa; she didn’t even appear at the entrance to his large forge. Another apprentice, a young Human man, turned Jelaqua away until the Selphid dropped the inn by name. Then Emessa poked her head out.

“We’re both busy forging, Jelaqua! Master Pelt will just throw his hammer at you if you interrupt—it’s magical fire! It doesn’t wait! Can you come back in forty-five minutes? Between forges is the only time to talk!”

“Sure!”

Jelaqua had to shake her head as a plume of greenish sparks engulfed the Drake, and she went back to hammering on something, swearing like a drunken [Sailor]. The Selphid backed up.

I can kill 45 minutes. Her first instinct was of course to check out the charms, but one look at the crowd of people blocking Gemcutter Avenue and Jelaqua decided she’d still be in line by the time forty five minutes had passed..

So she went somewhere else instead. The main square where the [Florist]’s statue stood. Lord Moore had told her a bit about how the charms worked. Meaning…something The Wandering Inn was good at making. But what did it actually look like?

 

——

 

No one was touching the [Florist]’s statue. Or rather, some people were and being threatened with bodily harm if they damaged it. Much less took a piece off.

Miss Ediya, the [Runecrafter], had a metalworking hammer, and she was swinging it dangerously.

“Try to chip a piece of the statue off and we’ll put nails through your head! It doesn’t work like that, and the rest of you can clear off!”

She and a number of [Crafters] seemed to be warding off a lot of copycats trying to steal whatever this was—with no success. The artisans were, in fact, cordoning off smaller areas around the statue. They had put up what seemed like drying racks to Jelaqua—only instead of food hanging from the strings, it was little objects.

“This is all we’re doing, [Mayor]. Nothing else—it’s only busybodies and [Thieves] who’ll try to do more. No one should get in the way of the [Florist]. I swear.”

Ediya turned to the [Mayor] and a group of the Watch, and the man frowned.

“This is it?”

“Yes, just a place near the statue to, well, collect.”

Ediya glanced at the observers who were trying to figure out the method to her madness. She turned to another man hanging up a charm he’d fashioned.

“This is no good. We’ll have to hire our own guards. Especially if we have multiple sites—though I’ll bet stealing charms is as bad luck as you can get. Actual bad luck; who’s got offerings?”

“Here.”

Jelaqua watched, fascinated, as the group added something to the base of the statue. It seemed like it didn’t matter to the observers, who were trying to see the magic or other more obvious power sources at play here. But what mattered was the bundle of objects put at the statue’s feet.

Flowers for the [Florist] and little weapons for the Goblins. Arrowheads, a small sword—perhaps items you could turn into charms, but mostly, Moore had said, just—tributes.

Does it matter? Ediya arranged the offerings and spoke.

“We should have a place for all of this. And a way to keep [Thieves] at bay. The first charms I’ll make will be for that, but better to have eyes at all times. This is an important spot, [Mayor]. And if it wasn’t before, now it’s worth more than just memory.”

She pointed at the base of the statue, and Jelaqua wondered how many more places in the world could create…meaning.

“A changing world. If I were a Bronze-rank rookie, I’d be putting my gold towards my first charm here as well as my first bit of magic. Here first, probably. Prices are way better than getting something enchanted.”

Then again, if Wistram really did create a magical revolution, maybe everyone would just walk around with [Fireball] spells at Level 10.

She’d killed some time here, but seeing the [Charmcrafters] making their trinkets and hanging them up got old after about, oh, ten minutes. So, Jelaqua walked on again, and there was one place she could kill time at forever.

The Adventurer’s Guilds in every city were always different flavors, but Jelaqua knew and loved them all. From the rough and rowdy ones filled with blood and guts to the high-class establishments where everyone was playing politics—she strode into Esthelm’s and nodded.

Silver-rankers at best. Local monster suppression and cave-contracts or guarding [Miners]. Not the place where an adventurer stayed, but a good place to get a start.

In fact, a higher number of Drakes and Gnolls told her that this was where Liscor’s Bronze-ranks were coming to get their start, especially in the rainy season. They turned to her, of course, and a [Receptionist] at the desk started.

“Are you here to register or work, Miss…?”

“Jelaqua. Gold-rank adventurer. Retired. Don’t mind if I look around, d’you?”

“Of course not! Welcome, Adventurer Jelaqua! Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Nah, nah…actually, do you have some water? Thank you so much.”

Her title instantly attracted eyes. But unlike normal, Jelaqua didn’t put some of the Silver-ranking teams in fear they’d lose jobs. Normally, Gold-rankers got treated like celebrities and villains who’d run you out of work if they felt like it.

Retired, though, meant she was suddenly Apista’s knees. Then she was the granny with tips and tricks to hand out and plenty of time to give an adventurer advice. Jelaqua swept into the room, grinning and feeling old.

They were so damn young. Some were actually older, but even a man in his forties felt young to her in experience. The first one to come up was a nervous Bronze-rank team.

“Adventurer Jelaqua? We heard about your team, and we’re huge fans. C-can I ask for an autograph and some advice?”

“Autographs? What am I, famous?”

They gave her earnest looks—they were three sixteen year olds. Two Gnolls and a Human. Oh, dead gods, it made her heart hurt.

“Bronze-ranks? How many weeks have you been adventuring?”

“This is our second one! I’m Migni, and this is Jerres and Kivry. They’re Silverfangs. I’m the [Warrior], and they’re [Hunters]. We’ve been hunting local monsters and doing gathering and small hunting quests, but we thought maybe we should take something bigger. There’s a Beaker nest about here and—”

Jelaqua swept her eyes over Migni and the two lads in a second. She had their measure. Migni was wearing cheap, cheap leather armor, and the two Gnolls had on even less; they were barechested with quivers slung over their backs and shortbows they’d use to kill game. She held up a hand.

“Hold on! If you’re coming to me for advice, you’re going to listen, right?”

The girl stopped and nodded rapidly; she was red-cheeked, and the two Gnoll lads were staring at her with slight awe. She was surprised Gnolls…no, they’d had a reputation among the tribes as well. And, Jelaqua remembered, they’d fought with Lehra and killed Wall Lord Dragial at the Meeting of Tribes.

Better times. She smiled and crooked a finger.

“Siddown, kids. First things first, who’s over Level 10?”

The two boys. Migni was not. She had a [Fighter] class at Level 6; Jelaqua shook her head.

“Beakers are big damn bastards. Not as big as a Mothbear, but they can take your head off in a single bite. Now, what does the request say?”

“Only one, so we thought—”

“One means you plan on two or more. What if it’s a nest or it has a mate? Second, none of you are high-level enough. I bet your two friends have been keeping monsters off your back while you smash a few, Migni? You need to know what happens when shit hits the teleportation spell and you’re all fighting in a mess. If it’s a Beaker, you also need armor. No bare chests unless you have a Skill or shamanic armor.”

She pointed at one of the Gnolls, and Jerres growled a protest.

“We’ve hunted Beakers before, Adventurer Ivirith!”

“With a group of how many? Eight? You’re shooting way fewer arrows if it’s the two of you, kid. And it’s going to come at you fast. How were you going to take it on? Traps?”

They had the idea to just place a simple net trap the two Gnolls reckoned they could rig up at the mouth of a cave, and Jelaqua tsked. She asked for a parchment and quill when the [Receptionist] gave her the water and drew a rough sketch.

“You come with traps prepared and be ready to be jumped when you’re placing them. No improvising on the spot unless you know you’re safe, and Beakers hunt. I’d do it like this, see? Trap here, here, and if you’re at the entrance and it’s not dying, you run. Let it bleed out and go to ground.”

Bronze-rankers were taking notes as she ran them through a trial hunt. Jelaqua almost wished she could go out with them just to show how it was done; she could beat a Beaker barehanded at her level. But they’d never level, and she didn’t have that much time to trek for an hour and then gut it and get back to Pelt.

At least this way they might have a chance. Once they passed their first fifteen levels, Bronze-rankers usually made it. And you levelled by peeing when you were that young.

Ah, she envied them. And didn’t. Jelaqua peered as the two Gnolls conferred with the dismayed Human girl and coughed.

“Lads, one more piece of advice from a Gold-ranker veteran?”

They gazed at her, and she winked at Migni.

“Either get your confessions out now and let Miss Migni talk it out or figure out a way for the three of you to coexist. Because if you’re lucky, you’ll just disband over romance and heartbreak. If it happens during a mission, you all die. Got it?”

Both Gnolls turned bright red under their fur, which you could actually faintly see, and Migni blushed as she whirled to study them.

Two Silverfang lads joining together with a young woman for an adventuring team? Not hard to exactly figure out why, especially how they regarded each other. She was hardly oblivious, Jelaqua bet, but probably too young to confront it.

Well, the uproarious laughter and jeers from other adventurers nearly chased the poor rookie team from the Guild—until Jelaqua slapped someone on the butt.

“Oi! Don’t mock the rookies. You were young once—wait, you’re all young, damn. Anyone else want free advice? I’m just an old woman, so it’s not like you’ve gotta take it.”

A Human woman raised a hand and spoke, a touch sour.

“Any word on what’s the most value if you’re trying to earn money as a Silver-ranker? It’s slim pickings if you can’t do Liscor’s dungeon! Too many teams from other cities come by and hunt the best requests down.”

Jelaqua thought about it.

“Either repeat guard work on [Miner] teams or see about culling monster nests. One’s boring, the other’s dirty, difficult work. No one wants to do either, see? But put in a month of both and the teams you protect will know you’re not some random team and might up your fee or cut you in on what they mine. Monster nests? There’s always someone with lots of gold who wants one taken care of fast. Get a hundred monster nests done and the Guild issues you a certificate that you can use.”

“A hundred nests?”

Someone exclaimed, dismayed, and Jelaqua laughed softly as she took a drink.

“That’s nothing. You’ll hit that no matter what by the time you reach Gold-rank. You all know how, right? Dead gods.”

 

——

 

Jelaqua didn’t even feel the time fly by in the Guild. She was just thinking it was time to head back to Pelt as she stopped giving anxious rookies tips on how to heal up without potions. Jelaqua sauntered back to the desk to give the mug back and thank the [Receptionist]—and ask if it was okay if she came back now and then—when she heard an argument.

The Guildmaster himself—another retired fellow, probably a Silver-ranker—was arguing at the desk with a rather dirty and banged-up fellow. Who stank. Both of noxious alchemical powders and blood.

“So let me understand this, Mister…”

“Randy.”

“Randy. You’d like to claim the contract on the Beaker? But you’re not an adventurer, and you didn’t register the quest with anyone.”

“Yup. I killed it, it’s dead. Look, I’m not even asking for the reward, I’m just telling you so no one wastes time on it.”

Jelaqua halted and eyed the young man with sandy blonde hair and tanned skin. He looked bad. And from the way he was wincing every time he moved his arm…she came up behind him as the [Guildmaster] glowered.

“Sir, this isn’t how the Adventurer’s Guild operates at all! A civilian cannot claim a contract—open bounties are one thing, but this is a registered mission! And how do we even know you’re telling the truth?”

“Look, I’ll swear on a truth stone I did it! I’m not—people can’t just go out and kill monsters?”

“You’re depriving adventurers of work!”

“It was sitting in a cave trying to eat people! I—aaaaaagh! My arm!”

That last part was because Jelaqua had snuck up and clicked Randy, or rather, Kevin’s arm back into its joint. She had to wiggle it around a few times before she heard it pop right; you could do it wrong and set it incorrectly, as he’d clearly done. Even healing potions didn’t fix that.

“Heya, Randy! How’s it going? You look like shit.”

Scorch marks on his skin. Popped blisters…on his cheeks, and his clothing was burnt down on both shoulders. Why? No bites on him, and a Beaker would have taken a massive chunk out. He jumped and whirled.

“Jelaqua! Oh shit—”

“You know this young man, Captain Ivirith?”

The Guildmaster blinked as Jelaqua slung an arm around Kevin’s shoulders.

“I do. If he says he killed the Beaker, he killed it. Look, he’s from the inn—they’re crazy over there. The [Innkeeper] herself once killed an entire nest of Shield Spiders. Took the job right out of Gazi the Omniscient’s hands. I say just mark it as done and give some Bronze-rank team the reward money. But make ‘em go to the nest and clear it out. You didn’t clear the nest, did you, Randy?”

The [Receptionist] and everyone listening stared at this edited tale of Erin Solstice. It wasn’t true; Jelaqua had heard the tale second-hand and embellished it, but it was true enough. Kevin just wiped at his face.

“Clear the nest? How? The, uh, Beaker thing’s mostly in pieces.”

“So…you didn’t dispose of the corpse? Harvest it for parts? Get rid of its nest so another Beaker doesn’t settle in the cave because it’s already made?”

Kevin opened his mouth, then grimaced.

“Nope. Damn, sorry…I just got out of there.”

“Cleanup work, then. Why don’t you assign that trio for it?”

Jelaqua nodded at Migni’s team, and the Guildmaster nodded. He eyed Randy, then turned to Jelaqua.

“That’s acceptable. If you tell this young man about needing to either register or not try his hand at slaying monsters, I’ll sort out the paperwork.”

“By the looks of it, he figured that out the hard way. Thank you—and I’ll pop back when I’m bored, if that’s okay?”

Both [Receptionist] and Guildmaster assured her she was welcome any time, and Jelaqua grinned. She walked out, Kevin under one arm.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up and some new clothing. Before anyone at the inn sees you. They were asking me to find you.”

Kevin squinted at the sun as he glanced around.

“Sorry. I passed out and woke up two hours ago. Damn, I think I have some clothing in Solar Cycles. I can grab that and wash before I get back. Ishkr might smell it, or Liska, but they’re cool. Thanks, Jelaqua.”

He smiled at her. She smiled back gently. Then she grabbed one of his ears.

“Right, and now you tell me what the hells you were thinking trying to take a Beaker on solo! And if you lie, then this ear gets it. You can live without one.”

“Ow! Damn it! I knew this was going to happen!”

 

——

 

A young Human woman worked at Solar Cycles. Her name was Rinli, and she was a [Gearhead]. Level 27, actually.

She’d been there from the start. First as an [Assistant]—you know, an odd job for a really odd fellow, but that had been when the inn had been smaller, but sort of cool with its magic door to Esthelm and Celum. Rinli hadn’t thought much of it except that she needed the money and it was interesting.

She was from Esthelm—there were a few other members of staff.

Merckle, a Drake [Bike Mechanic] from Liscor, the best in the shop. Gergia, a former [Scribe] who was now their [Saleswoman] and answered all but the most important speaking stones; Cadem, leader of the [Tinkerer] kids who they employed and who could fix most bikes by themselves—

Solar Cycles. It didn’t start this way. It had only been Kevin, Rinli, and Merckle back in the day—and Pelt and Hedault and Selys, of course, but they hadn’t been the actual store.

The moment that first bicycle had been captured on the scrying orb, Rinli’s life had changed. She’d moved apartments three times. Bought a house, had someone try to bribe her, then threaten her—called the Watch on her uncle for breaking into her home and snooping around for keys or files—

That was the downside. The upside was being the idol of every Esthelm streetkid who’d beg to see one of the new models, of having the money to buy her own house, of levelling twenty-seven times in a year—and being important. She’d kept pace with Kevin himself, which he’d joked had meant she was actually doing more work. But if she had, working all hours, managing the aspects of the business he couldn’t, she hadn’t minded it. It was one huge adventure. It had been grand as the store grew bigger.

At the start, she’d been writing down orders for monarchs on pieces of paper and hammering them into a wall, sweating bullets as Kevin and Merckle argued about why this bike wasn’t working, or trying to get a Courier to take a delivery overseas. Waking up at odd hours to hear a City Runner say, ‘the King of Avel needs to speak to someone now’, going to the Merchant’s Guild and hearing them state how much gold had been deposited in the account—

And Fetohep.

Always Fetohep ringing up Kevin in the middle of the night. Whereupon he’d sit, trying to work on a bicycle, going, ‘oh, really, I didn’t know that’ or ‘yes, Your Majesty’ for up to six hours as she brought him a cup of tea and a snack.

Then they, well, Rinli, had hired more help! Gergia, for one, and Merckle had attracted Cadem, and Kevin had let the kid stay and work. Rinli had been worried Cadem would steal something and leave, but after a few months, she was sending him with deliveries to Hedault and coming back with a bag of holding filled with enchanted gears—until they decided he needed an escort in case of muggers.

They still had a small place. True, they’d expanded it several times so it was now a full workshop of tools, and it had a garage you could bring a bicycle into for a tune-up or repairs—even a shop front, though you had to still wait in a queue for any model.

Plenty of knockoff bike shops were all over in Invrisil to Pallass. None of them had Hedault or Pelt or the sheer knowhow of Solar Cycles. Rinli had checked; she’d even gone to steal their best [Mechanics] and bring them here.

It had been such a fun adventure with their charming, if sometimes airheaded, leader who could talk to monarchs and utterly fail to balance a budget. Who’d take every new model of bicycle out and come back later with fifteen scratches they needed to buff out—it had been so much fun.

Then the Winter Solstice had happened, and Solar Cycles had gone dark. Rinli had sat in the merry little shop as employees and kids came in, all of whom asked her if it was true. How? And why?

No one told her more than it was Roshal. She’d gone into the store that evening and found a bicycle for a Lord Pazeral and smashed it up with a hammer. That had been months ago.

Today…

 

——

 

The buzzards were still circling. They had vast wings of bright, shiny cloth. Sometimes silk, sometimes just the appearance of silk, and huge heads capped with faux-crowns of tophats and plummed finery.

They squawked, too, in loud, obnoxious voices, calling over each other. The buzzards were ugly as well. Not merely in appearance, for some were tall and slim, others portly, and yet more just ordinary save for their fine feathers. They were just ugly inside and out.

“Miss, you are in need of guidance! You need a steady hand! I am that hand!”

A female vulture was calling from her carriage where she’d sat all day. She was a [Merchant], a high-level one with enough gold to buy Solar Cycles and have Rinli retire—if only she’d do the right thing.

Her squawking made the other birds begin cawing as well, shouting as they sat and harassed Rinli, screaming entreaties.

“One of the Five Families will back and manage this shop!”

“I am the head of the Merchant’s Guild in Remendia; the entire city will—”

“You cannot run this business without proper leadership classes! Your owner is dead!”

That was a cruel call from them, but they had no pity. They devoured the corpses of failing businesses they thought had juicy bits of fat and gold leftover and happily ate dying franchises too.

It didn’t matter that Pelt, Hedault, and Selys were co-owners of Solar Cycles. Kevin had always had the controlling interest in their agreement; the others could, conceivably, put up a threat, but Hedault and Pelt had no time nor interest in managing the business. Selys Shivertail would have been a threat, but wouldn’t you know it, she’d left Liscor.

Take the shares Rinli controlled and buying out or forcing out the other competing stakes in Solar Cycles would be easy enough with the Merchant’s Guild’s help. All contracts had loopholes or could be negotiated. Rinli was the key piece. Checkmate.

And oh, they knew she was weak. Today was surely the day she’d break. Why, two weeks ago she’d fled the storefront in tears and had been having a panic attack, back pressed against the wall as one of them cornered her, until the Watch came, the damn busybodies.

Of course, they were also cowards too, so the flock of unsightly birds drew back when the doors opened—the Drake with the wrench had frightened them off more than once, like a flock of wheeling carriages and surcoats.

Technically, though, they weren’t doing anything wrong. And each one of them would have sworn on a truth stone they were, in fact, the heroes of this story. After all, they firmly believed that Solar Cycles needed a new owner: them.

The fact that the young woman had kept the business running despite having no owner for four months was inconsequential, of course. What did a lowly worker know about leadership? The hoi polloi could not lead themselves; that would be ridiculous. What would happen to them if that were the case? One had gold and therefore was knowledgeable in all things business. Something ergo sum.

Every head turned as the window they were watching, which led to the office that Rinli was using, revealed some movement. The shutters were drawn, but they knew she was in there by the movement and set up such a racket that windows slammed open and more people down the avenue called for them to shut up and leave!

Mindful of the Watch, the flock quieted down, but they waited, beaks wet with anticipation. Any moment now, she’d come out to scream at them, and then they’d have her. They pressed in with their negotiation Skills, trying to force her to sell. Any moment…

 

——

 

Inside the office, Rinli admired the new glass window that Hedault had enchanted for her. She was humming as she checked the day’s orders to send to the shop floor. She glanced out the window again and saw the faintest blur of a few of the carriages moving.

She wondered if they’d figured out she’d had the windows soundproofed yet. In hindsight, it really was one of those things that was a no-brainer, but she hadn’t wanted to spend any of the company money on it. But a few weeks ago, she’d put the order in and not thought twice about it.

The plague that had haunted her for months was now just…background noise. Solar Cycles was filled with activity, people laughing, working—and Rinli was humming. She kept glancing at the timekeeper, of course; he’d said he’d be back by late morning, and if he wasn’t, then she’d panic. But a miracle had already happened once.

Kevin was back.

He came through the back door, yelping, and an alarm went off. Instantly, Rinli reached for a wand under the desk and a speaking stone that was tuned to Esthelm’s Watch. But she hesitated as she heard him shouting.

“Wait, wait! Damn, you hit the alarms. Don’t call the Watch! It’s a friend!”

She raced out of her office and saw him in the hallways. Kevin, or ‘Randy’ as everyone had to keep remembering to call him, looked horrible. A Selphid had him by the ear, but she let go as a whooping siren began to sound off.

“What? I didn’t—”

“It’s an intruder! Get them!”

Merckle dashed out of the workshop, wrench in hand, and all the [Mechanics] poured out to fight the thief they thought had come in. When they saw Kevin, they halted, then stared at his condition.

“It’s Jelaqua! Turn the alarm off! Turn it—”

Rinli turned Hedault’s alarm spells off, and everyone could hear. Kevin lowered his hands.

“Thanks, Rinli. I need some clothes. And privacy. Sorry, everyone. This is Jelaqua, from the inn. She’s here to help out.”

Jelaqua blinked at the staff of Solar Cycles, who didn’t really know her either; not many of the Inn People actually came here. They treated her warily, edging back in case she exploded or something.

“Uh—sorry.”

“Clothes are in your office, Kevin. And the inn asked for you—I told them you were sleeping here.”

“You’re awesome, Rinli. Tell them I’m coming in like an hour or two—I need to change. Jelaqua, this way.”

He nodded at her as the young woman felt her stomach unclench. So he had been going to that Beaker cave. She hadn’t been sure…

The young woman saw him stride towards the office. Then glance back guiltily.

“Uh, anyone call that I need to help with, Rinli? Not that I can since—”

Since I’m dead. She shook her head.

“Not right now, Kevin.”

“Thanks.”

He vanished into his office. Rinli went back, picked up the speaking stone, and assured the Watch officer that it was just a kid; false alarm, no need to investigate.

“Oh, but the [Merchants] are causing a disturbance. Can you clear them out? Thank you so much.”

She stamped the form for the workshop and placed it in a tray where it would be run to the [Mechanics]. Then Rinli stowed the emergency wand under her desk and got up. She walked down the narrow hallway to the office that Kevin had claimed. It had been empty for months; now she heard voices within. After a moment, Rinli hesitated and pushed the door open.

She stepped inside the office as she saw Jelaqua confronting Kevin, who was trying to wash off the gunk from his upper body and argue at the same time.

“—ead once. I’m not trying to do it twice—oh hey, Rinli, something wrong?”

“Nope, Kevin.”

She folded her hands behind her back. Kevin hesitated. Jelaqua turned to the young woman and shot her a brief smile.

“Sorry about the alarm and strong-arming Kevin back there. I just needed to have a word about his adventuring career—”

She shot Kevin a glower, which he just sighed at. Jelaqua added.

“We’ll be out of your hair in a second. I have to get to Pelt, anyways, and I’m definitely late.”

“We could help with that, Miss Ivirith. Solar Cycles works with his smithy and Master Hedault daily.”

Rinli smiled. Both Kevin and Jelaqua stared at her.

She didn’t leave. Jelaqua gave Kevin a sideways glance and coughed. He just grinned, rueful, and it was him.

Him…and someone else. Someone who seemed pained and saddened by everything. Someone older and, yes, grimmer than the happy-go-lucky [Mechanic] who had been her boss last year.

Someone with secrets. Real ones, not just that he liked Goblins and gave them free bicycles.

“Rinli’s cool, Jelaqua. She’s not going to blab, and if they could have bought her with gold, someone would have ages ago, right, Rinli?”

“It was close until you decided to let us know you were alive. I nearly caved a few times. To the House of El, not that lot.”

Rinli nodded towards the windows, and Kevin appeared guilty again. Not his fault he got shot. But then he sat on his desk. He hated his huge pinewood desk that he said made him feel like a ‘fat cat’ for reasons that escaped his employees. Kevin was full of idioms and expressions they’d adopted.

He had made a huge impact whether his friends knew it or not, whether the inn respected it or not. But, it seemed to Rinli, he’d never taken himself that seriously for all he worked hard. Today, she saw him wincing as he put a shirt on, and a different Kevin had soot and blood on his arms. He gazed at them ruefully.

“I’m just not as cool as I want to be, Jelaqua. No one is under fire, are they?”

“Nope. And you knew that, so why’d you go and take on a Beaker without backup?”

She was angry, and Rinli mouthed ‘yeah’ behind her. Kevin picked at some dried blister skin.

“Because that’s real. It’s not like Reynold standing in front of me while I hack some poor Goblins and centipedes up with an enchanted sword. No bailouts, no help if I mess up. That’s how it works in the real world, in an adventurer’s life. The only backups you get are the ones you bring, and I brought tons.”

“You still nearly died. You’re smarter than that.”

Jelaqua pointed out, cross. Kevin just gazed at her.

“I levelled in my new class and my [Mechanic] one. I need to hit Level 40 yesterday, and I don’t just need one class, Jelaqua. I get that was stupid of me. Next time…well, I know what I need to fix.”

He brushed at his bag of holding, and Rinli stared at it for a long moment. Jelaqua didn’t know what was in there, but Rinli had seen and heard more than most.

Master Pelt and Master Hedault sitting in the office with Kevin, tears in their eyes as he told them a story meant only for their ears. Laughing, shakily, with all the guilt in the world.

Then—asking for favors from Master Pelt. Deliveries the old Dwarf obliged and sent on to Hedault. Odd…tubes that had no place in a bicycle—that Rinli was sure of. Gold taken out of Kevin’s little-used account.

Kevin Hall sat there as Jelaqua brushed at her hair, vexed.

“There’s better ways to learn to fight, Kevin.”

“So teach me. I was thinking it yesterday when we met. I thought—you’d know how to fight. Relc’s too busy, and besides, he’s an upstanding guy, even if he was a [Soldier]. No one but an adventurer knows what it’s like to be ambushed or fight dirty. The only other guys I could ask is Vaulont or Elia. One’s creeped out by me as much as I am of him, and the other’s weird.”

“Teach you? I don’t have time f—why would I teach you when I don’t think you should be fighting? You have a business, Kevin! A good one! Why are you going out hunting monsters?”

For answer, the young man just sat on the desk, smiling. And his blue eyes gazed down, down at something that made Rinli shiver.

“This is going to sound super lame, but somehow, it’s true. When I was in Hell, I swore that if I came back, I’d do it differently. Try, and I did try in this. But…safely. I didn’t fight the battles that Erin did, because I was always a coward. I didn’t think I could. It took seeing a version of me with syphilis and a shotgun trying to murder the Goblin King to realize ‘oh yeah, that’s just an excuse.’ I’m all out of excuses. And shits to give. So with respect to you, Jelaqua, and Ryoka, I’m done playing nice with this world.”

It was a funny, Kevin-like way of saying things. But if you knew him, it was also faintly unnerving. Because he meant it. The same young man who’d taken a look around and decided he wanted to be the funny bike-guy had made a business selling overvalued bicycles to monarchs. Then taken the profits and decided to give technology and aid to Goblins…and no one had ever known that.

Now, he was glancing at a bookcase on the far wall that Rinli knew held a safe with diagrams in it. And one more thing. An odd tube of red with a brass cap that made her [Dangersense] go off every time she saw it.

Jelaqua Ivirith had none of this context. All she saw was a young man she had liked who had come back from the dead and spoke like this.

“Sounds like you’ve got a deathwish, Kevin. I’ve met adventurers like you, and I don’t party with them, nor do I encourage what you’re doing. I should stop you or at least tell the inn if your staff won’t stop you themselves.”

She glanced at Rinli, and the young woman hesitated, but Kevin just smiled tiredly at Jelaqua.

“I don’t feel like dying twice, Jelaqua. Roshal came for me once. They nearly got Imani. Now I get how Erin felt after coming back. Do you think she’s not thinking about dying? It’s the opposite of a deathwish. It’s a ‘fuck-you’ wish. You’ve gotta be alive to see your enemies burn, right?”

The Selphid thought this over, then sighed loudly.

“Nagas take it, and here I was complaining about not having anything to do. I’m watching you. If I think you’re going too far, I’m hitting you and calling Lyonette on you, got it? Otherwise, count me in. If you help me with Maughin’s thing, I’ll give you some combat training.”

Kevin grinned, and he hopped down from his desk.

“Deal.”

He spat into the palm of his hand and held it out. Jelaqua made a face.

“Eugh, what kind of barbaric tradition is that?”

“Aw, damn. Is that not what they do? I thought—”

She laughed, spat orange into her hand, and slapped it against his so hard he winced. Rinli got a rag so they could wipe the spit off. Then she turned to Kevin.

“Solar Cycles is with you, Kevin. Just say the word. But you have to tell us what the word is.”

She met his eyes, and his face turned rueful.

“I’m not going to involve you guys in this, Rinli. This is serious. If you want to help, then I’ve got plans. I need some engineering help, and you’re the best in Izril. Well, you and maybe Laken’s trebuchet [Engineers] or Pallass’ Guild. But it’s got to be secret, understood? More secret than…”

He trailed off. So she spat into her hand and held it out, and he blinked at her, then shook hands.

“This is really gross.”

 

——

 

Thus it was that Jelaqua had a new problem, and she already had one with Maughin! But Kevin might have been the right card to play, because when she got to Pelt’s forge, he was indeed busy and the assistant tried to turn her away.

Kevin and Rinli just marched past him. The young man shouted.

“Hey, Pelt! It’s Randy, your favorite not-Unicorn! Got a second?”

There was a pause in the rhythm of metal, then a Dwarf came stomping out of his inner sanctum. His beard was covered in shards of molten crystal, and his glare did not spare Kevin, even when Pelt grabbed him up in a bone-crushing hug.

“You brat! This had better be good or I’ll put you on the anvil! My crystal’s cooling—get in here! Oh wait, it’s the Selphid. I knew your husband would come himself or send you. Get in here.”

He rushed back to his forge where crystal was cooling on an anvil; Pelt began heating it again and hitting it with his hammer. Jelaqua leaned over to Kevin.

“I don’t think crystal should do that. It’s a rock, right?”

Kevin shrugged.

“It’s Pelt. He can hammer anything. I think Emessa uses molds.”

The swearing Dwarf finished his hammering and put his piece aside to be worked on later. Then he pushed up two goggles on his face and glared.

“Damn crystal shards. I forgot why I hated working with it! Capturing magic from flames…damn stupid idea. But catch that lot at Dwarfhalls Rest doing this?”

There were indeed magical flames shooting out from a custom-built forge that let the flames roar up around an anvil Pelt was working on. The anvil was bright and shiny. Jelaqua whistled.

“Is that…Mithril?”

Pelt gave her a slightly approving, and very smug, look.

“Has to be. The only thing that won’t impart the crystal with an element.”

“What about silver?”

Kevin was interested, and Pelt spat.

“Silver? Silver’s a bastard’s metal. Purity and paugh, no! I’d rather use damn glass if I had to do without Mithril. Which I don’t, so shut up about metals, boy. You don’t want to be a smith. Leave the metallurgy to me. Now, who’s first? Maughin’s Adamantium or whatever you need this time? You’re not dead; that’s a start.”

Kevin rubbed one shoulder.

“I need to work on designs, but I think it’s Hedault or just…padding. This is all Jelaqua. She’s got a forge problem?”

Pelt smirked, and Jelaqua raised a fist.

“Something tells me he knows what the problem is and he’s been letting Maughin stew in it for months rather than help. Now that I’m retired, I don’t get in trouble with the Guild for hitting people, you know. Just the Watch.”

The Dwarf reached for a flask of water and drank greedily.

“The day you and I brawl, Ivirith, is the day you need a new body. Maughin doesn’t get any levels nor experience for having me giftwrap solutions. He’s learned how to forge a pound of Adamantium, right?”

“And cut the damn stuff off the block. Sure. Why?”

Pelt nodded sagely.

“He could do all that with a forge as mediocre as Pallass’ ones. The fact that he’s asking for more means he’s ready.”

That made Jelaqua excited; Pelt’s taciturnly tacit endorsement meant a lot. She wished Maughin were here, but Pelt would have probably been even worse.

“Well, what’s the problem?”

“The problem—siddown, boy, before you fall flat on my anvil—is that Maughin’s realized the thing I knew the moment I walked into the City of Inventions. All their forges are too small.”

“They’ve got the biggest smelters this side of Izril!”

“Too small’s too small, Ivirith. They’re made to mass-churn steel, which they do well. It’s not the same as a forge for magical metals. I blame the leaders of the city, not the planners, myself. I know they used to have bigger forges, but they moved all the [Smiths] to the 9th Floor. ‘Too noisy and intrusive’. Hah! It was only about a hundred years back—they used to be on the 2nd Floor. When we heard that at Derithal-Vel, we knew the Assembly of Crafts were idiots and they’d lost their Master Smiths.”

Kevin snapped his fingers.

“Oh, damn. So those original forges…?”

“Probably there weren’t as many, but they definitely could have been repurposed to Adamantium again. Without it, Maughin’s stuck. What is he having problems with? The weight of the forge? The heating mechanism?”

“Uh, yep. But the real issue is paperwork. No one wants to fund it, let alone allocate space for it.”

Pelt spat his water onto the ground. He roared.

“Drake politics! This is why I left that damn city!”

“I thought you left because Miss Erin and her inn charmed you away, Master Pelt.”

That came from Rinli of all people! Jelaqua blinked as Pelt swore at her, but apparently, he tolerated her sass—he grumbled into his mug.

“I’m ignoring that. Maughin has to make his damn forge! I’ve been counting on it! How the hell am I supposed to smith Adamantium if he doesn’t make it?”

Everyone stared at him, and now Jelaqua’s eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms.

“You old snake. You want to borrow his forge?”

Pelt gave her an innocent peek over the edge of his water bottle.

“An Adamantium Forge isn’t something I could have Esthelm build. If I save up enough, it’s possible, but a waste of my time and coin. Plus, the expertise required…and before you ask, no, I’m not doing it again in the middle of a road. I’ll have a crater a thousand feet deep in no time, and besides, the ground isn’t level enough to let me do more than forge rough pieces like the ingot.”

Jelaqua turned to Kevin.

“Can I hit him?”

The [Mechanic] was grinning as he sat on a bench of tools.

“Pelt, you’ve gotta help Maughin a bit. It’s hotter than a blast forge, isn’t it? Titanium is one thing, but Adamantium? How’s Maughin supposed to figure all that out?”

“I thought every [Enchanter] in the city would be all over him. Why’s Pallass ignoring its best smith? Magus Grimalkin being besotted over that bag-wearing snob is one thing…”

Jelaqua had to explain the political problems with Wistram to the Dwarf. At this point, Emessa had come out of her own smithy, and they were eating brunch—the Dwarf was scarfing mostly meat down from a charcuterie platter it turned out he really liked; Rinli had brought one for him, and he kept toasting some of the meat on a tray he passed through the forge fire.

“Wistram! Just as well that Archmage doesn’t claim to be forging metal. I should have known idiots would be all over his magical crap. It was like this with Zelkyr, you know. I was just a brat when he was around, but it was Golems this, Golems that! You couldn’t walk a step in a Walled City without seeing a Golem. They were replacing the Watch, the army…I wonder what happened to them.”

He tugged at his beard, frowning. Jelaqua tried to get them back on track.

“So, it’s not Maughin’s fault he’s not got a forge together. Can you give me a list of specifications, Master Pelt?”

He frowned and rubbed at one ear.

“Mayhap…but it’s not exactly about how it’s made. Just that it works. All kinds of forges work. Clan Tannousin used to make do in a giant bowl in the desert. There’s a forge in Samal I saw once that uses sunlight. Stupidest thing—you can only forge in the daylight and only certain spots.”

“How hot do you have to get the sunlight to melt Adamantium? And how? Mirrors?”

“Yep. Huge dome of ‘em. Some kind of magic to make the light stronger…it’s dangerous as can be. I threw a hammer through one of the beams on a dare. Vanished in a second. Maughin probably just needs a huge smelter that can contain the heat he’ll be working with. Once it’s out of the flames, a reinforced anvil will do, but he’ll need an Amulet of Flame Resistance, at the least, and Skills to endure the heat. An Amulet of Greater Flame Resistance would be better, but I don’t know if the Drakes have that lying around.”

This sounded like a huge undertaking. Jelaqua’s heart sank. Kevin was just curious.

“That’s all? Really?”

“Heat and a place to hit the metal, boy. Wait…no. He’s not me, so he might need help with that last bit.”

Pelt was counting on his finger and added a third finger. He grimaced.

“Adamantium is hard. One of the hardest damn metals known to any species. Maughin’s strong as you get, but even he’ll sweat to bend the metal enough. Ideally, he’d have what they have in Dwarfhome and Dwarfhalls Rest—a Magic Hammer.”

Kevin’s eyes lit up.

“Oh shit, you’ve got automated hammers?”

Pelt glared again.

“You Earth-Humans take all the joy out of life, do you know that?”

“We’ve got machines that do the same! They smash down metal without needing a hammer—what’re yours?”

“Big. Big enough to move massive pieces of steel. One of those is what we use for Adamantium if it’s not a Master Smith like me. Heh. Those idiots in the Assembly of Crafts think they got rid of the smithing sounds? Maughin will shake the city down to the 1st Floor regardless of how he’s working the Adamantium!”

Pelt chuckled evilly, and Jelaqua wrote down ‘noise cancellation’ and underlined it a few times on her list. She stared down glumly at the sheet.

“Well, I’ll tell Maughin, but it sounds like he’s going to have trouble, Pelt.”

“Tell him to come here himself and I’ll at least remind myself which spells were cast on the forges back home. No, wait. Tell him to bring Grimalkin and we’ll see if Pallass can equal it. Also tell him to buy all the fire magicore he can; that’s how you get a proper heat going. No, wait, also tell him he needs Mithril even if he has to buy it from Dwarfhalls Rest. I reckon that’s the best way to build the structure of the smelter. But he has to insulate it from the heat since it’ll melt in no time while the Adamantium’s cooking. Right, so tell him fire magicore and Everfrozen Ice or Grasgil—”

“Tell him yourself!”

 

——

 

Getting Pelt to take a break from his forge and visit Pallass took some doing. However, again, Jelaqua lucked out. Rinli had a way to lure Pelt from his smithy, and it wasn’t merely food or drink.

“Master Pelt, what if I were to get Felkhr the Flying Gnoll and Master Hedault to join you? With Magus Grimalkin? I’ll have a scrying mirror set up at his home, and I believe there’s an arena match in Pomle happening.”

The old Dwarf wavered, and it again transpired that sitting and watching arena bouts was a great pastime of his—especially if he had a crowd of people he tolerated.

“Hmph. I have a day of work to be done—! But if it’s for the Adamantium forge…”

“I have some of Farmer Lupp’s fresh corn from the north. I could have it grilled by Chef Lasica and sent up?”

“Fresh corn? Why didn’t you say so! And get me some of that crab stuff from Liscor. Not Rock Crabs. The good crab. You coming, Kevin?”

“Right behind you, Pelt. Think the inn can help with the forge?”

“Well, if they’ve got gold…why not send the Archmage and her apprentice? Not to the party, she talks too much. But between the two of them, that’s the reinforcement and higher-tier spells covered. Rinli, I need garlic butter for the crab!”

The [Gearhead Assistant] rolled her eyes as she chivvied everyone into the inn.

“I’ll catch up with you after I get this set up for Pelt. To Maughin’s house?”

“Sure, why not? It’ll be a mess, but I’ll hire a [Cleaner], and he’ll stop sulking.”

Jelaqua was so happy she volunteered her home for the party, and Pelt strode on into the inn.

“Hey, Portal Rat.”

“Who said—oh hey, Pelt. You going to Pallass?”

“Yep. Open it.”

“You got a passport and documents and stuff?”

“Nope.”

“Awesome. Here’s Pallass!”

It appeared the way to get Liska to give you favorable treatment was to be a pain to wherever she was sending you. Certainly, the guards at the checkpoint groaned the moment they saw Pelt. A Garuda hopelessly smiled at him as he stomped into one of the gateways.

“Papers, sir?”

“What do you think? Open this thing, I’m doing smith work.”

Jelaqua had her papers, and she was waiting in line when Kevin halted in his checkpoint. A [Guard] had stopped him.

“Sir, are you carrying any enchanted weapons or alchemical weapons?”

“Uh, maybe. Why?”

Kevin had papers—fake papers that Rinli had gotten him—but the young man appeared suddenly shifty as the [Guard] eyed him.

“My Skill is detecting something of concerning danger on your person. Would you please open your bag of holding? We may have to confiscate your items for the duration of your stay. You will be issued a ticket and be able to reclaim said items when you leave, of course. Assuming this isn’t something illegal?”

“Illegal? No, no…what’s illegal?”

Jelaqua eyed Kevin as he patted at his bag of holding. The Drake sighed.

“Anything made of or containing Crelers parts in any way. Area-of-effect spells above Tier 4. Alchemical items of similar hazardous nature—unless you’re an adventurer or have specific documents, anything of that nature is prohibited and subject to confiscation. You did read the rules of entry, sir?”

“Every day of my life. Uh, well, it’s none of those things, but I don’t really want to turn it over. So I may just, uh, go back. This way.”

Kevin was edging out of the checkpoint. The [Guard] gave him a sharp look, but the young man was already heading towards the door to the inn. Jelaqua wavered.

The [Guard] seemed to be on the verge of calling for Kevin to get back or sending someone after him, but his focused glare at Kevin suddenly wavered, as if he’d forgotten why it mattered. Jelaqua whistled as he called out in a bored voice.

“Next?”

She stepped out of line and called over to Emessa.

“Emessa, I’m staying with Randy. Maughin doesn’t need me if they’re talking metals.”

“Great, so I’m going to be the only woman in the room?”

The Drake groused. She cast Jelaqua a pleading expression; the Selphid gave her a thumbs up.

“No, no…I’m sure Grimalkin will bring Pryde.”

“Oh, great.”

Jelaqua turned and didn’t miss the way the Drake at the checkpoint glowered at Lady Pryde Ulta’s name. Uh oh. Well, nothing to do with her, she hoped.

 

——

 

Back at the inn, Kevin was feeling at his bag of holding.

“Damn. That was close.”

“Got something dangerous in there?”

“I didn’t think they’d detect it! Plus, they’re not load—they won’t even work! I guess ammo counts. I think I’d better stay out of Pallass for a sec, Jelaqua. My Skill works on them a bit, but they might notice me coming back.”

Jelaqua shrugged, agreeing. At that moment, Rinli hurried through the door with a City Runner no less, who strode into Pallass with all the things Pelt needed. She halted.

“Kevin? You’re not going to Pallass?”

“I, uh, had a security problem. We’re hanging here!”

He grinned sheepishly at her, and Jelaqua raised her brows. She still didn’t know what Kevin was up to, but she was determined to keep him out of trouble. Well, more than he’d been in.

He had some kind of weapon that he didn’t want Pallass to see and could let him kill a Beaker by himself. That wasn’t a small thing, and she’d glossed over that in her concern for him. 

Earth-weapons, no doubt. Jelaqua Ivirith was the first to admit she wasn’t big on the Earth-conspiracy. Everyone in the inn knew that Erin was from another world. It sort of came up the longer you stayed there.

But exactly what that meant…? Jelaqua was no Grimalkin. Erin had ice cream and weird secrets. So did most people. So she just observed Kevin as Rinli decided she was staying too.

“Oh, that’s right, Kevin. Nanette said someone you were looking for was here. Rhaldon.”

Kevin turned, and his eyes lit up with that familiar-unfamiliar glow of excitement and determination. He exhaled.

“Ah. In that case, glad I missed Pallass. Rinli, d’you know how much gold…? Actually, I can borrow whatever I need from Lyonette. I need a quick word with Rhaldon, then I’ve got work for us.”

He rubbed his hands as Jelaqua’s brows rose. She exchanged a glance with Rinli, and she felt something in the air. Like the calm before an Erin moment, but it was a Kevin moment.

A Hall moment.

No, that sounded horrible.

 

——

 

Rhaldon Flemmens didn’t speak a word for a long while as he sat in Stitchworks. He just gazed at Kevin until the other young man realized…no one had told Rhaldon he was back from the dead. He’d just popped up with a clap on the shoulder and launched into questions.

“Hey. Kevin, right? You’re looking pretty good. Did I mishear Octavia last time or…I heard you were dead. Must have been the wrong person. Sorry.”

They had never met before. Maybe the two had seen each other in passing, but Kevin Hall and Rhaldon Flemmens had never shared so many words. But they knew of each other, certainly. And Rhaldon was smiling in that embarrassed way of someone still new to the inn. He had never been there for Erin’s death or return.

There was a wobble in the [Alchemist]’s voice. Kevin’s face grew somber, and he stepped back. He smiled and brushed at his hair, but his next words didn’t reassure the [Alchemist].

“No, you heard right. I was dead.”

Rhaldon’s eyes flickered, and that moment of disbelief, panic, was eclipsed by rational thought.

“Interesting. So you faked it or were you pulled out of a coma like Erin?”

“No, dead-dead. I got shot through the chest. Died. Uh, sorry. I should have explained properly. But I don’t…we’ve never met.”

Now, Rhaldon was swinging his eyes from Rinli to Jelaqua in the way of someone who thought they were being pranked. But the two had faces so grave that it was unnerving him. He was still smiling. Kevin rubbed at his chest, just above his heart.

“Sorry, dude. It’s something that can happen in this world. But it’s never easy. And it won’t happen that way twice.”

That was it. Rhaldon grew visibly angrier, and his nostrils flared as he drew in a breath.

“Listen, if this is some prank or Solstice thing I’m not getting…”

“I died.”

Even Jelaqua started at the sudden intensity of Kevin’s tone. The [Mechanic] gazed around Octavia’s empty shop, then hissed at Rhaldon.

“It’s not a joke. Roshal’s [Assassin] shot and killed me and nearly did for Imani. I died, and I know you were warned about that. This isn’t a game, man. I don’t have a scar, but I can tell you exactly how it felt. I was dead, and I came back. Just like Erin. And I’m not the only one. I—sorry. Sorry…it’s not a joke.”

He let go of Rhaldon’s shirt, and Jelaqua released her grip on his arm. The [Alchemist] was wide-eyed, and he leaned back as far as he could in his seat. Kevin backed up a step, panting.

Rhaldon’s face was pale. He turned to Jelaqua, then Rinli, for confirmation, then he nodded tightly. He winced as he checked himself, and Jelaqua noticed Rhaldon was injured. He was pressing ice against some bandages on his chest. It must have hurt when Kevin grabbed him, and his face turned guilty.

“Dude, what happened to your ribs?”

“Horse kick. I don’t think they’re broken. Just really bruised. I’m—sorry about not getting it.”

“No, that was wrong of me. I’m sorry. It’s just—it happened.”

Rhaldon stared at Kevin. And whatever he saw in the other young man’s eyes turned his skin a shade paler. He searched for words, swallowed.

“Good to know. After Erin—well, I guess it’s easier than I thought?”

“No. No, it’s not.”

After a moment, Kevin gestured lamely at the ribs.

“So what was that? Mugging or trouble on the road?”

Rhaldon glanced down. He laughed, shakily, then winced.

“Ow, damn—no. It was when I was unloading the carriage in Invrisil. One of my stupid horses kicked me.”

“Ooh.”

That was a universal wince of pain from Jelaqua, Rinli, and Kevin. Rhaldon checked on the bandages around his chest.

“I’ve decided I hate horses. And ponies. And donkeys, mules…I don’t know how Termin ever found his two. Nor do I want to gain Skills for them. This is why I want to figure out…”

He mumbled to himself as Kevin felt at his belt. Then the [Mechanic] handed Rhaldon a familiar, glowing vial of green liquid—but the label was clear.

“Here, try this.”

The healing potion made Rinli and Jelaqua start. Rhaldon stared at it longingly, then waved it away.

“I can’t. Thank you, but it’ll heal. That has to cost more than I could deliver in a month.”

“Dude, take it. We have lots.”

Jelaqua’s head swung to Kevin as Rhaldon hesitated, then popped the potion and drank gratefully. His eyes popped, then he was gasping in relief.

“Argh, that really hurt for one second—wow, that’s better. I should see about reinventing those—not that anyone can. There’s a [Polymath] named Zeomtoril up north who’s been trying for ages, but Eir Gel is pretty unique stuff, sadly. I had to do a shipment of five healing potions; I had a guard of twenty, and it was more gold than I’ve ever carried.”

He was blabbering a bit, probably in shock from Kevin and the healing. The young man nodded as he looked around Stitchworks and lowered his voice.

“Hey, mind if we switch somewhere quieter? The potion’s secret, and so am I—the name’s Randy now. You can trust Rinli, and you’ve met Jelaqua, right?”

She waved at him, and Rhaldon hesitated.

“Selphid, right? Halfseekers?”

“Formerly.”

“Oh, right…you’re retired?”

“Close. My team died.”

A pause. Rhaldon stared at Kevin and Rinli to make sure she wasn’t joking, then bowed his head.

“I’m so sorry.”

 

——

 

It wasn’t a great day for Rhaldon Flemmens. The horse kick hurt like hell, and that had been as he was unloading Octavia’s stuff. He didn’t even feel like he deserved it.

Healing it was nice, but the double-whammy of Kevin and the state of the inn had him off-kilter. He hadn’t noticed the Winter Solstice, even. Oh, he’d felt something was off, but Erin’s [Leased Room] hadn’t even flickered or done anything.

He’d just…travelled across Izril, going from Calidus, who was still making his potions, to other [Alchemists], and coming back to swap notes with Octavia and Saliss. They were his two friends, but Saliss had left for the New Lands, and Octavia had broken up with Numbtongue, so she was highly depressed.

Rhaldon just wanted to work on his chemistry projects between building gold up. It wasn’t like he was avoiding the inn…he was just avoiding it because he feared it, for all Erin had done for him. Seeing her stabbing a man to death—that was hard.

Kevin? You could tell he’d come back from the dead. Rhaldon hadn’t believed it until he’d looked into Kevin’s eyes and seen something actually apocryphal there. The [Alchemist] wasn’t a big fan of fantasy or books on magic; he had once heard of someone’s eyes described like ‘voids into the abyss’ and closed the book and rolled his eyes.

Kevin had eyes like that. Like someone who’d seen something so vivid, so horrific—or maybe terribly sad—that a piece of it remained. It only came out when he got angry.

Saliss had eyes like that sometimes. That convinced Rhaldon. Erin had the same expression. Of course, he wondered if it was the commonality of people who’d had near-death experiences. But regardless, it was true.

He had heard Kevin was dead. Shot.

Now he was here, and Rhaldon didn’t see the happy-go-lucky jokester that Octavia had described. He was chaotic, spontaneous—and unnerving. In a different way from Erin. Rhaldon had always felt like Erin was a few steps ahead of him, predicting what he was doing.

Kevin…he genuinely believed Kevin was acting as things came to him.

For instance, when Kevin led Rhaldon into the [Garden of Sanctuary] to talk, he turned and handed Rhaldon something. As if it were something ordinary and he’d just thought to ask.

“Here. You’re a [Alchemist], right, Rhaldon? What do you make of this? Think you could make any more?”

Rhaldon gazed down blankly at the item that Kevin had handed him and dropped it as if it were electric. He stared at the object that landed in the grass as Kevin swore and scooped it up. He wanted to believe it was fake, but…there was no mistaking the look of it.

The shotgun shell from the future glinted in the light as Kevin held it up. Rinli and Jelaqua were peering at it. Rhaldon was having trouble breathing suddenly. His shoulder was burning in pain.

The shoulder where he’d been shot during a protest back on Earth.

“Where—where did you get that? Did someone bring it with them? It needs to be destroyed at once!”

Destroyed and the traces burned or vaporized. Given what Rhaldon suspected about Skills, even a trace sample would allow someone to reproduce it! Zeomtoril could. However, Kevin was inspecting the shotgun shell and glanced up.

“Not that I know of, but I’d bet someone came armed. If they don’t have it, I know other nations are working on it. Roshal has flintlocks. That’s how they shot me. This? This is a magical shotgun shell. It runs on magicore and gunpowder. I know a few parts, but I don’t know how to make actual gunpowder. Think you could make some more?”

He went to hand the shell back, and Rhaldon stepped back.

“What? No! Are you insane? That’s the last thing this world needs!”

Belatedly, it seemed to occur to Kevin that Rhaldon might not instantly want to jump on the ‘make guns’ train. He held up his hands.

“Sorry, dude. I’ve just been thinking about this all month. Hear me out—”

“No. This is beyond the pale of—if someone has a firearm, I’d try to destroy it and any ammunition. Bringing guns into this world is a terrible idea. Why would you come to me with—do you know how I came to this world?”

“No. How?”

“I was shot! Termin saved me from bleeding out on the road! I probably still have bullet fragments in my shoulder—and you want me to reproduce that? As if it’s even easy?”

Rhaldon snapped. He wiped his hands on his coat, and Kevin winced. But that uncanny light in his eyes was still there.

“Shit. Sorry, dude.”

“Don’t ‘dude’ me. This is no laughing matter. Give that to me and I’ll destroy it. If we’re lucky, no one will make more of them.”

Rhaldon stretched out his hand, and Kevin closed his grip on the shell protectively.

“What? No. I need it. Listen, Rhaldon. Firearms are the least of our problems. People already have ‘em. Roshal shot me with some, remember?”

This was true. Rhaldon hesitated, then gestured at the shell.

“That’s modern. That’s from home—Octavia described what sounded like a blackpowder flintlock. The difference between that and a modern weapon is unimaginable.”

“I know. The stuff you can make works well enough. But I need something better.”

Kevin rubbed at his shoulder for reasons Rhaldon didn’t understand, and the [Alchemist] felt like he was inhaling something noxious, because reality wasn’t lining up with—he tried to calm himself. Steady his heartbeat.

“Kevin, I’m suggesting you get rid of that ammunition. Where did it come from?”

“The future. It’s not from Earth. It’s magical ammunition from the future, Rhaldon. Aw, shit, you don’t know about that too.”

Kevin waved the shotgun shell in front of Rhaldon with a slight smile, then slapped his forehead. Then, and only then, did Rhaldon reconsider.

Maybe that wasn’t the light of someone who had died in his eyes. Maybe he was just—crazy.

A chill ran up Rhaldon’s spine, and he was reassured by being in the [Garden of Sanctuary]. He licked his lips.

“Kevin. You’re making a lot of statements I find hard to believe. First you tell me you came back from the dead, next you’re telling me we’ve got time travel?”

In a world as nonsensical as this, it could happen. Yet Rhaldon felt like when he’d first come to this place. Too much insanity and he’d crack and think he was hallucinating. Or just not believe—Kevin shook his head and stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Nah. It all connects, Rhaldon. I’m going to make it all make sense in one—two words.”

“Go ahead?”

Rhaldon closed his eyes. There was no way—

“Parallel dimensions?”

“Holy fuck, you are smart.”

Kevin actually jumped as Rhaldon’s eyes opened. The [Alchemist]’s mouth worked, but he managed to reply.

“I enjoy science-fiction more than…you’re not serious.”

Kevin grinned, and Rhaldon felt his skin growing clammy. He was hyperventilating.

“Tell me everything. From the start, please.”

 

——

 

When Rhaldon got stressed, he took notes. Or maybe he just took notes. Kevin Hall would be the first to admit he’d bungled the entire conversation, but you had to own, there was no good way to lead with, ‘I’m back from the dead, I have ammunition from the future, and there were parallel worlds; how was your last few months?’

It looked even worse written down. Which is what Rhaldon had done, making a series of bubbles that linked from event to event.

“So you’re telling me that this all took place over about two days—”

“Longer if you count Mrsha and Rags messing around in the [Palace of Fates], but sure.”

“A week, then. Millions of parallel worlds opened and collapsed in a week, there was a war of worlds, and the entire Skill broke down as people either entered an entirely new reality—which is not the same as a different dimension—and those who remained came back to life, like you?”

Kevin thought about it and lifted a finger as Rhaldon showed him his journal filled with the flow-chart of events. He scratched at his head.

“Technically, I never died, so I didn’t lose levels. We just soul-merged.”

Rhaldon’s fingers twitched, like he wanted to rip the journal entry out of his notebook and possibly his head. He inhaled and exhaled.

“I saw the news about the Goblin King. I felt that. That’s…evidence. As well as Pallass’ 2nd Army and that Goblin Lord, Ragathsi? She was using Skills that sounded modern. But how can you prove any of this, Kevin? I have no evidence from where I’m standing that this occurred.”

Kevin pointed at his face.

“I’m back from the dead.”

Here, the [Alchemist] bit his lip.

“We hadn’t met before you died. So that…isn’t the…best proof. Sorry.”

He received the most insulted expression from Kevin the young man had ever given someone. Kevin pointed up.

“Taken a look at the moons recently?”

Rhaldon had, in fact, and wondered what could cause damage on that scope. The [Alchemist] felt that sensation of sweat beading on his spine again. He shook his head.

“That’s…okay, I see something happened. But that shotgun shell is the only thing the future gave you?”

“That, a wagonload of healing potions, a bunch of items Mrsha and Ushar took—the Goblin King—look, I can see you’re not used to The Wandering Inn.”

“I’ve seen enough.”

Erin standing on a ship in the rain, pushing a [Prince] off her knife. Reaching down and taking a Goblin Lord’s hand. A flaming Antinium blazing with glory.

Calidus asked him sometimes why Rhaldon didn’t want a sedentary life like Zeomtoril or other [Alchemists]. The answer was that the north wasn’t that appealing to Rhaldon, or Calidus himself. But here…

This is why I stay away. However, he was confronting reality and clearly missing out on the truth if everything Kevin said was to be believed. Rhaldon pressed his fingers to his temples.

“Let me ask follow-up questions later. Assuming everything you’ve said is true, and I recall Erin’s warnings about the Winter Solstice—that I can believe. I heard of other undead attacks at the time. I even saw them.”

Kevin started.

“You did? Did they come after—?”

Rhaldon waved his hand.

“I didn’t. Lord Callidus said there were two Ghoul packs his people took care of, but it might have been chance. There was a broadcast of one of the Jaws of Zeikhal that Khelt had going crazy. And other undead attacks—someone said they saw the Singer under attack, but that’s just a rumor.”

He’d put together the Ghoul packs with other events and wondered if they’d been searching for him. Compared to hundreds of thousands of Draugr, it wasn’t bad, but it still gave him nightmares to realize they were following him. Kevin’s features softened.

“I’m sorry about that. Well, that’s why I need help, Rhaldon. With this—”

He had the shotgun shell around. Rhaldon wished he’d stop waving it about so carelessly. He knew it wouldn’t combust randomly, but it was still a shell, and if Kevin was to be believed, made of magic. The right percussive force and bam.

“Stop playing with that, please. Was it machined? Hand-made?”

“Machined. Future tech. Want to see?”

Part of Rhaldon did. He inspected the shell gingerly, turning it over and seeing how yes, it did look very analogous to his world. But a few details caught his eyes; the shell didn’t seem to be made of the exact same plastic he remembered. It almost felt…harder? The red a bit too vivid, the plastic giving it a sturdier feel.

This is from another world. This is—none of this is like something you could produce from home. Even the ‘brass’ cap at the bottom was slightly off. All of it either told Rhaldon this was an amazing fake or was indeed the product of different times.

But one thing caught his eye, engraved on the plastic. Rhaldon stared at the detail on the shotgun shell, then spoke.

“I’m beginning to believe what you told me is correct, Kevin. But that doesn’t change how I feel. Making weapons to kill people isn’t something I ever wanted to do, in this or any other world. I’m glad you’re alive. I’m not making bullets for you. If that’s why you wanted to speak to me so urgently—”

Kevin was getting upset. He gestured at his right eye, glaring.

“Dude, this isn’t even about the future or other worlds. It’s about Roshal. They shot Imani’s eye out and shot me. They’ve got guns. I need help making them. You don’t have to make an entire industry, just enough for one person.”

Wow, that was a great argument. They have guns, we need guns. Rhaldon decided not to take it to politics from home. He folded his arms.

“So, what, you can go around Rambo-style and gun down all your enemies?”

“That’s the plan.”

The glib response that Rhaldon had on the tip of his tongue dried up at the way Kevin just said it like that. He gazed down at the shell and shook his head.

“Where did you get this from, in the future?”

“Twenty-two years in a future where the Goblin King appears. Would you believe a version of me with a shotgun and magical syphilis had it? And a magic tank?”

“I don’t believe I’m awake. I think I’ve hit my head after the damn horse kicked me. Okay….tell me something. I know, uh, some of the guests of the inn here and the family. Remind me, who’s Rabbiteater?”

Kevin’s eyes flickered. He glanced at the shell that Rhaldon was holding, but he couldn’t lie, so he replied haltingly.

“…One of the Hobgoblins that Erin helped. He stayed at the inn once. Later, in this future-world, he becomes…”

“The Goblin King. I see.”

There was only one reason you wrote a name on a bullet. Rhaldon peered down at the hand-engraved name on the shotgun shell.

Rabbiteater.

He handed it back to Kevin.

“That sounds like a fun future world. No thanks.”

“Listen, man—in the future he’s a bad guy, the Goblin King who you saw on television. I just need help making—”

“No.”

Rhaldon got up and brushed grass off his pants. He stared at the yellow flowers and Sage’s Grass blooming around them.

What happened to the Faerie Flowers? Then Rhaldon shook his head. This was all too much for him. He began walking towards the door back to the common room. He was feeling at his shoulder, and he had a vision of someone pointing a gun his way—Kevin chased after him.

“Listen, you’re the only person who can make this! The only person who gets the risks. Saliss is gone, and Octavia—”

Rhaldon swung around, and he was nose-to-nose with Kevin.

“I do not want to help you kill people! I’m glad you’re alive, but you’re acting kind of psychotic right now, dude. I’m a [Alchemist], not an [Arms Manufacturer]! I don’t want to make weapons of war to kill people.”

His voice cracked as he pointed at the little capsule of death that Kevin held. The [Mechanic] started, and a guilty expression crossed his face. He put the shotgun shell away at last.

“…Sorry. I’ve been obsessed about—I forgot that’s how you came to this world. Some police officer shot you? That’s a hell of a way to get teleported.”

The two calmed down slightly as Kevin stepped back. Rhaldon half-shrugged.

“Might have been the national guard. Anyways, it’s better than a truck.”

Rhaldon felt at his aching shoulder and wished he had another sip of the healing potion, though he was sure it was just phantom pain. Kevin frowned.

“A truck? Oh, right, good one. People are still into portal fiction back home?”

“It’s the most popular genre. Something about it hitting way too close to home…give me a second, would you?”

Rhaldon was rubbing at his face. He felt like he’d aged a year just seeing the weapon Kevin held. He needed a lie-down, and his wagon was in Invrisil…Kevin hesitated guiltily.

“Sure. Sorry.”

After a while, Rhaldon looked up.

“It’s not out of the question someone will bring a gun from Earth. I’m not an idiot; I just don’t want to be part of this. I have no expertise in this area, anyways. Working with gunpowder is exceptionally dangerous even by my standards.”

“I get it. It’s okay, man.”

Kevin shoved his hands in his pockets. Rhaldon gestured at the shotgun shell.

“Besides, that’s ammunition. It’s not something you’d hand-craft but mass-produce. You’re probably the better class for it. You don’t even have the firearm, and that’s the harder part.”

The [Mechanic] rubbed at his shoulders again and picked out some dead skin with a grimace.

“Yep. I’ve got a primitive bazooka, but that’s about all. Nearly dislocated both my shoulders, but it works.”

“…What?”

Kevin touched his bag of holding, and his eyes rose, and there that uncanny look was again. He glanced at the door to the inn, but Jelaqua and Rinli had given them a moment.

“It’s just a tube filled with a Potion of Blast and shrapnel. Well, I put a bit more work into it, but the kickback and loading—I mean it, man. I came back from the dead to change the world. And if you don’t want to help me build weapons, that’s fine. I hear you’re making something else I’m into. Rose says you were working on…an engine? I’ve had ideas there too. Wanna chat?”

Ah, and there it was. Rhaldon stood there and stared at Kevin’s bag of holding like it was Pandora’s Box. Then, he thought he caught the faint acrid odor of alchemical potions around Kevin, though it always hung around Rhaldon so he often just didn’t smell it.

Madness in his eyes, someone field-testing weapons with his own life on the line. Rhaldon’s first thought was to back away slowly and never engage with Kevin again. But his treacherous mind had to ask questions.

“There is no way you made a working—you’d have blown yourself to bits! How did you not rupture a steel tube?”

Making a rocket launcher was not that simple. But Kevin shrugged.

“I tested it, of course. And I had Pelt.”

“Pelt. Oh—the Master Pelt?”

Rhaldon felt a surge of excitement and envy. He hadn’t had any help except from reluctant [Smiths] who hadn’t gotten what he was trying to carefully get parts for. Kevin nodded.

“Yep. You can trust him, and he made it out of Mithril. Hedault didn’t want to be part of it, either, but Rinli has lesser enchantments she can hook me up with. Money’s not a problem, even if I needed Lyonette’s…field testing sucked, but it did work.”

So he’d made a functional—in how many days? Rhaldon had been working on his project in his spare time, but he was fighting against suppliers, his own ineptitude with machining pieces, and a lack of understanding how to fuse magic with Earth’s technology.

But Kevin—Kevin of Solar Cycles stood there, that manic glint in his eyes. He knew what Rhaldon was up to.

“Give—give me a moment to think on it? All my stuff’s in Invrisil.”

“Sure, Rhaldon. You know where to find me. Well, here or Solar Cycles. Sorry about springing all that on you, again.”

Rhaldon nodded once. Then he wobbled out into the inn to go find his carriage for a second. He had to trek back to it in Invrisil. But inside, he stared at the room he’d leased from Erin and the objects strewn about it.

After staring upside-down at one particular contraption, Rhaldon muttered to himself.

“Damn guns.”

He produced the bag of holding Calidus had given him, swept a few inventions into it, and sighed.

 

——

 

Jelaqua Ivirith might not have gotten the context of Kevin and Rhaldon’s heated conversation in the [Garden of Sanctuary], but she understood enough from watching the two young men leave. When Kevin slumped back into the garden, he threw himself onto the ground.

“Shit. That was my best chance.”

He glanced up as Jelaqua leaned on the wall of the garden dome next to him.

“Planning on doing a lot of killing, Kevin?”

He stared down at his hands. He still had the shotgun shell in hand, and he studied it and the name written there.

“I dunno. Maybe? I never thought I’d say it, but Erin’s bad at killing people. Or she’s got too many enemies. Seems to me like it’d make everything so much cleaner and simpler if someone stepped up.”

“It won’t. Take it from me.”

Jelaqua’s pupils were glowing a faint orange, and Kevin glowered at her.

“I’m not going to go around just shooting everyone. You think if Roshal’s [Slave Lords] died tomorrow, the world wouldn’t get better?”

She stared at the ceiling.

“Yeah, in some ways. But they’d just make more of them; shoot the Hydra’s heads and they always grow back. Sometimes nastier than you think a replacement could be. It’s very hard to kill your way out of a problem, Kevin. Believe me. I’ve tried it.”

The young man was angry. Shaken from his near-death experience. He began to retort when his brain finally caught up with his ears. Then he peered up at her as Rinli glanced at Jelaqua.

“Tried it how? Like, you were a [Mercenary] in Baleros. That’s not what I meant. I mean—I’m not trying to fight a war. I don’t even know how to get at…what do you mean?”

The Selphid glanced at Rinli. The [Assistant] took the cue and stepped back. Then Jelaqua just stared ahead.

“The funny thing about living until you’re as old as I am is that you get tired, Kevin. Tired of one life—so you switch. I used to be a poor [Fisher]. Then a [Bounty Hunter]. I killed plenty of people just to make coins. Felt like that wasn’t getting me anywhere, switched to [Mercenary], ran a company. Got a lot of people killed…on my side and theirs. Went off. Became a Silver-rank adventurer. Realized it felt better helping people than killing them.”

He listened, toying with the shell, as she stared ahead.

“Funny thing about being a Halfseeker—it’s not easy. Your entire motto is about being someone there for those who are alone, and plenty of people decide that’s a personal attack. You stand between the little white Gnoll and their tribe and you’re the bad guy.”

“Mrsha? No…you’ve met Doombearers before?”

She didn’t answer that. Jelaqua went on steadily.

“You find them in any city you come to. There always has to be someone everyone hates. Half-Elves amongst Humans. Scorchlings amongst Drakes. Gnolls amongst Drakes. Doombearers amongst Gnolls…the species change, but you get so tired of trying to do the right thing. Moore never got tired. But even he lost his patience.”

She remembered the expression of wrath on his face, and her heart hurt. So, Jelaqua whispered.

“Sometimes…you just wonder if the big, bad [Lord] goes away then maybe that solves it. If that one bastard vanishes and it appears all innocent? Maybe they stop throwing stones. Only, then his daughter decides he was right. Or his [Chamberlain]. Or just that loudmouth who thought Lord So-And-So had a point. And then your bag of holding is getting full, and people are asking questions, and you’re sitting in a graveyard stitching a face onto a corpse at midnight and you ask yourself whether this is better.”

“Jesus. But didn’t it help? What’re you supposed to do when the bastards come calling? When they shoot you for just existing?”

Kevin was feeling at his chest. Grimacing like Rhaldon. Jelaqua Ivirith regarded him. And she saw a rookie. Not someone in the wrong field, but a rookie. Gently, she squatted down next to him and sat in the grass.

“I never said you stop fighting. Every now and then there’s a Dragial, and you charge and he dies because you don’t let him get away. I’m just saying, Kevin…if you want to halt things, you’d better either have Rhaldon make you a thousand of those things, one for every single person in the crowd, or you’d better find the magic Erin has.”

He thought about it.

“…Beating down rioters with her friends?”

She cuffed him lightly. Jelaqua pointed to the shell in his hands.

“Sure. You know what I mean. That’s not your first weapon, Kevin. That’s the one they never see coming. They never shot you because they thought you were making weapons. They shot you because of Solar Cycles. Because of her.”

She pointed at Rinli, and Kevin’s eyes rose. He glanced at his [Assistant], the young woman who could put together a bicycle blindfolded and do a three sixty also blindfolded, and she waved at him. Kevin glanced down at the red tube between his fingers and put it away.

“—Well, I feel stupid now. I guess…I guess I’ve been feeling like I have to be that warrior I saw. But he looked fucking miserable. Thanks, Jelaqua.”

She hugged him one-armed, which turned into a real hug. And she whispered as she patted him on the back.

“Once you kill one of them, you’re dead too. I’d rather have this silly guy. Maybe it’s worth it to take out one bastard even if it costs your life or you’re on the run forever—but I was always too scared.”

She gave him a shamefaced expression as he gazed at her, searching her face for the moments in her long history she meant. Jelaqua just turned her head.

“Hey, Rinli, we’re done! I think what we all need is to get poor Rhaldon some food and start over, agreed? What say you all we get a pizza?”

Kevin smiled faintly as he dug his hands to his pockets and seemed to relax for the first time since she’d seen him.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.”

 

——

 

Rhaldon reappeared sooner than anyone expected, seeming less rested, but slightly better.

“I’ve given your proposal thought, Kevin. I’ve run into setbacks by myself, and I’d love help—with my projects, if you’re willing to chat. As for yours—”

“Hey, your projects are good enough for me. C’mon in. Want pizza?”

Kevin rose and ushered him to the table with pizza. They were in a private room of the inn, and Asgra was taking orders. It seemed they’d made up, and Kevin was the first to properly apologize.

“Dude. It was my fault. I should have known how crazy I sounded. If I were in your shoes and you told me to join the military-industrial complex, I’d have told you to shove a wrench up your ass. I get it.”

“I’m not saying I don’t understand. I’m just saying that I don’t want to be part of it, nor am I necessarily that guy. But just so we’re clear, what you’re doing—you were lucky to not break your shoulders and kill yourself.”

“I know.”

Kevin heaved a huge sigh as Jelaqua eyed them both and Rinli frowned. Rhaldon waited.

“Are you going to continue?”

“Yep.”

Silence. Kevin gestured at the table.

“C’mon, we’ve got pizza. Pepperoni, some awesome vegetarian stuff—it’s honestly the best—and for some reason, pineapple.”

He glared at Asgra. The Cave Goblin smirked.

“Is on the house.”

“Take it back.”

“I can eat pineapple.”

Rhaldon muttered, feeling at his bag of holding. Kevin gave him a long look.

“Dude, I respect that you forgave me, but I’d rather be shot twice than eat pineapple pizza. That’s the one perk of dying; you can make jokes like that.”

They were tucking into their pizzas, and the pineapple was indeed underrepresented in slices eaten, and everyone was feeling better for the hot food. Jelaqua glanced at the rain coming down and grimaced.

“I can’t believe Liscor is still rainy. I know it’s an eighth of the year, but still.”

“Oh, it’ll be muddy too. Miserable to pull anything around in. You’re lucky the magic door is here, Rhaldon.”

Kevin assured them, and Rhaldon rubbed at his ribs again.

“I believe that. But I just think I’m done with horses. They were always the worst part of driving a carriage; I don’t mind the road, and people aren’t racist to me. Just speciesist. Which is great. I think I’m done with draft animals altogether if I can help it.”

“Driver Rhaldon, are you going to rent a magical Wistram Carriage? It’s not cost-effective even with their speed. I priced it out for Solar Cycles and Couriers end up being cheaper.”

Rinli was chewing on her pizza. Rhaldon shook his head slightly. He glanced around at the door and opened his mouth; Rinli kicked it shut and slapped something on it.

“Anti-eavesdropping charms. Everyone in Solar Cycles has to have them. We’re secure from everything except the Thronebearers.”

Kevin gave her a thumbs-up, and Rhaldon reached into his bag of holding. He glanced at Kevin.

“So how’d you burn yourself? I can see the burn marks on your shoulders. Was it from the opening?”

“Nope. The opening at the bottom doesn’t vent right. Instead of going back, it sort of explodes everywhere.”

“Jesus wept. And you did it twice? You made two?”

Jelaqua and Rinli eyed Kevin as he picked at his shoulders again.

“Well, yeah. Never just carry one. Got any tips?”

From the expression on Rhaldon’s face, he probably had a few that involved not getting burnt, but he just exhaled and shook his head.

“This is my project. Please don’t laugh. I’ve tried to talk to [Smiths], but they don’t get it or they’re busy and I can’t explain what I want. I thought about talking to Calidus, but…secrecy. You know?”

Kevin’s eyes sharpened.

“Definitely. Rinli, I’m working with Rhaldon here on what he’s after. Can you help?”

“Of course. Is this also secret? Hello, Driver Rhaldon, I’m Rinli, the head of Solar Cycles with Kevin being officially dead.”

Rinli smiled, and Rhaldon, flustered, shook her hand.

“I’m sorry, I never introduced myself—”

“It’s quite alright, sir. You get used to it if you interact with the inn at all. Kevin, secret?”

“The tops, Rinli. Okay, what’ve you got, Rhaldon?”

The [Alchemist] glanced at Jelaqua. She waved at him.

“Hey, I’m just here as a friend.”

An inquisitive look at Kevin and the [Mechanic] nodded.

“Jelaqua’s someone you can trust. So’s Asgra, in a way. Anyone who’s part of the inn except for the Calanferians are solid. So are Solar Cycles, at least the ones Rinli trusts. What’ve you made?”

Rhaldon grimaced at the weight, but pulled something out of his bag of holding carefully and slid it onto the table.

“Tell me, what do you think? Of the concept?”

To Jelaqua, it was an amalgamation of steel crudely fused with wood. To Rinli, it was a prototype made by someone who didn’t have the best ability to work the materials given, but knew what they wanted. To Kevin? He stared at the flat cylinder of wax with the flame burning on the top.

The Everburning Candle was heating a test tube in which water was condensing and bubbling upwards. The vapors led to a wheel that spun haltingly, and there was a bit of string tied to the wheel which, like a bicycle’s gears, were trying to move a second wheel, this one rolling around in the air.

The entire contraption barely worked because the candle was failing to heat the water enough, and the string and wheel weren’t capturing the steam and transmitting the motion to the other wheel. Lots of marks on the metal and wood showed where Rhaldon had built and rebuilt the prototype with frustration. But Kevin saw it, and his eyes lit up.

“Dude. Is that a perpetual steam engine? It is! That’s an Everburning Candle, isn’t it? I wanted to get my hands on one of those! They’re expensive and rare! How’d you get one?”

Rhaldon smiled faintly. Rinli had sat up at the name Kevin had used, which she’d read before in his blueprints…Jelaqua was just eating pizza. Listening. The [Alchemist] pointed at the water.

“It’s not perpetual. Unless I can store the vapor, that needs refilling. I thought with some Everfrozen Ice you could condense and re-use the water…? It’s too complicated, frankly. Also, steam explodes in a really violent way. I have a lot of destroyed cylinders…even with gold, I don’t have the manufacturing experience.”

“That’s us. Rinli?”

“I’ve seen your version of this, Kevin. Master Pelt nearly killed you making it; this is simpler by far.”

“Well, I was working on the entire thing. Rhaldon, what’re you thinking? Steam? For your carriage?”

It seemed Kevin and Rhaldon spoke the same language of sorts, though it was all incomprehensible to Jelaqua. Rhaldon did smile.

“I did think it’d replace horses. With magic, you can make this so much more efficient, or possibly, infinite. I’m told the Everburning Candles really burn mana, so it’s still some kind of cost, but yes, steam is where I’d start. Either that or a magicore engine, but I like the concept of steam. It’s just—volatile.”

He shuddered. Kevin was vibrating. He leapt up.

“Rinli, in my safe—”

“[Collect Document]. This one?”

She handed something to him, and he swore.

“Damn, you’ve seen it?”

“I did go through your safe when you died, Kevin.”

She gave him an apologetic look, and Kevin shook his head.

“Here, Rhaldon, look at this. Wait, I’ve got the other one upstairs! I used it to fool a bunch of [Merchants] when Zevara was investigating—I’ll grab it!”

He went clattering out of the room. Rhaldon began spreading the blueprints on the table, and Jelaqua and Rinli helped. He looked at the two, embarrassed as he remembered they existed. He turned to Jelaqua.

“So Captain Ivirith…”

“You can call me Jelaqua. Or Miss Ivirith. I’m not a Gold-ranker anymore, just a [Loving Wife].”

His brows rose.

“I didn’t know that was a class. I shouldn’t be surprised. Is Kevin always like…?”

He gestured at the stairs, and Rinli shook her head.

“He’s been more driven since he came back. Personality-wise, he’s always been chaotic.”

“It happens. Someone loses a friend or sees a real battle and it changes you.”

Jelaqua was a bit sad that Kevin had lost that innocence, but more worried what he might do with that determination. Because they saw it, even if it was catching Rhaldon off-guard.

Another bit of silence as they munched on pizza, then Rhaldon turned to Jelaqua.

“May I ask a question about Selphid physiology if it’s not too rude?”

“Sure, if you explain what a ‘physiology’ is.”

She teased him, and Rhaldon blushed faintly.

“I was wondering. I know Selphids have to change bodies constantly, but couldn’t you manufacture an artificial one? Replace organs rather than change bodies? Skin would be harder, but hasn’t anyone made a permanent body?”

The question caught both Rinli and Jelaqua off-guard, for different reasons. Jelaqua smiled, impressed.

“What, did you date a Selphid? Of course it’s been tried—and done! But mostly, the reason we use dead bodies is that anything else is too advanced for this continent. No one likes hacking up bodies so no one’s good at it. I knew some Selphids who’d replace as much of their bodies as they could. Magical prosthesis. One even commissioned a Golem that was practically like a body!”

Rinli’s eyes lit up like Kevin’s did.

“Oh! That sounds pretty interesting! Why don’t Selphids do that?”

Jelaqua counted on her fingers.

“Well, for one, the cost. Two, we have no biological levers to pull. We can’t use the bodily functions the same way. Three? The poor fellow nearly died of dehydration. Not a good environment; half his body got pinched when the Golem squished him. No give to wood instead of flesh.”

Rhaldon was nodding.

“Ah, right. Still, I wonder if you could pilot a mech or an artificial body like a real one? Earth has more advanced materials, and if you had like a jelly or mucous membrane inside a contained environment…”

“I like how you think, kid. You’d have done great if you’d landed in Baleros. But you’re forgetting the main thing: sex. Tons of fun. Can’t see a world without it.”

Rhaldon’s face was completely straight as he replied.

“Earth’s definitely working on sex robots too.”

Jelaqua blinked. 

Damn, Pelt was right. They really did have everything. 

 

——

 

When Kevin came back, he had a huge cube of metal that he dropped on the dining table and nearly smashed it in with. His bag of holding produced a contraption even more convoluted than Rhaldon’s object; Jelaqua just sighed as she poked it.

“What is this now? Someone help the poor, stupid Selphid?”

“This is an engine, Jelaqua! Something you use to power a car.”

“…You’re saying that like that’s not complete gibberish.”

She turned to Rinli, but the [Gearhead] was as out of her depth as Jelaqua was here. Kevin gestured at the engine.

“Okay, right. Let’s try to explain. An engine works on combustion, using a fuel that it compresses before it explodes. Like a fire eats wood, but it goes off like a Potion of Blast that Saliss makes. The force of that is enough to do almost anything—if you harness it. So the way an engine works is the pistons here made here compress the fuel, and then you transfer that energy—”

Surprisingly, it was Rhaldon who interrupted with a simpler explanation.

“Imagine something that makes a bicycle go without needing to pedal. That’s an engine. It’s like a Golem Heart.”

“Ah, got it.”

Jelaqua had actually been following Kevin’s explanation fairly well, but she appreciated the way Rhaldon boiled it down. Kevin was more upset.

“Dude, my thunder. How’d you learn to do that?”

“Termin. He doesn’t like wordy explanations. Kevin, this is fascinating. I think it’s too complex for a prototype, but—oh, you made it modular.”

The engine could come apart piece-by-piece and Kevin nodded proudly as Rhadlon disassembled key parts.

“Yep, I kept it secret, and it wasn’t a priority…until the death thing. Now it’s big, but I heard you were working on your own. I can’t get mine to actually do anything with the wheels.”

Indeed, Kevin’s engine was a complicated mess of levers and attempts to transmit the vague design of an engine he knew, with pistons and an internal engine block, into the actual wheels. The problem was that a bicycle mechanic wasn’t exactly big on cars, and Kevin hadn’t owned one in Los Angeles.

“No one can help me, Rhaldon. Erin didn’t drive, Ryoka was never here long enough, and she freaks out about this kind of stuff. And Rose doesn’t know anything about cars. Frankly, I don’t ever want to have her drive me around. Joseph, Imani, Troydel—none of ‘em drive or know how cars work. Non-Americans, the lot.”

Rhaldon smiled.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly a genius myself, but we had a car my dad made me work on. Are you mounting it in the center…?”

“Yep, just makes sense if you’re going to power all four wheels. I know there’s a reason you put it up front…but this is a prototype. I thought I’d just make it gears all the way. If the engine would run, you just move it like a bicycle, right?”

Rhaldon identified Kevin’s problem pretty quickly: the young man hadn’t actually remembered the concept of the transmission properly. Namely…a drive shaft. Without the spinning axel, he had tried to link everything up with bicycle chains, which is what he knew and had the most of.

In theory, it might have actually worked, but with a few modifications, Kevin’s design stopped looking like a crazy puzzle box of parts. Kevin slapped his forehead.

“Spinning pipe. Dude, this is why I had to have someone who knew mechanics here.”

“No one else figured that out, truly?”

“I’m telling you, none of ‘em like cars. Maybe Ryoka would. She strikes me as someone who probably would get on a motorcycle or crash her parents’ car…but not fix them. Dude, look at this.”

“Yeah, look at it. What are we looking at, Rinli?”

Jelaqua whispered to Rinli, and the [Assistant] whispered back.

“I think…something that’s meant to keep up with Wistram’s magical carriages.”

The Selphid pulled a face. But the magical carriages were already beating everything else. Who needed a non-magical thing like this? 

Someone in a…non-magic area? Her eyes narrowed as Kevin and Rhaldon discussed the matter. The [Alchemist] was highly animated.

“This is exactly what I’ve needed. If Master Pelt can create prototypes this advanced, or maybe his apprentices, and Solar Cycles can also do some machining, then I could actually try the designs. And if you could help me improve my blueprints—”

It was Kevin who held up a hand.

“Whoa, operational security, Rhaldon! We don’t trust anyone but Pelt or Emessa, his best apprentice. Second, we keep this private.”

“Even among the inn? But you said—”

Kevin rolled his shoulders.

“The walls have ears, dude. And yeah, I trust everyone, but things have a way of connecting around here. Let’s say we get Lyonette on this thing. Three weeks later we’ll have like an engine-bomb we need to huck into a Kraken’s mouth while Ishkr plays the saxophone to save Wistram. We trust everyone; we talk to only the people we need.”

Rhaldon pointed at Jelaqua. Kevin clarified.

“And Jelaqua. She’s cool, plus, she saw us, and I don’t think we can get rid of her.”

The Selphid wore a happy smile. Someone got her!

Rhaldon exhaled.

“Well, this beats my attempts to make a wooden version of the engine. I nearly sliced my fingers apart. Can we start with Pelt?”

“Absolutely. I bet Pallass has changed the security on the checkpoint so I can go on through as soon as I stow my you-know-whats. Want to check out Solar Cycles? Then we can go to Pallass. Jelaqua?”

She slapped her knees and stood.

“Alright, kids. You’ve got me until you lot start speaking complex again. What’s new in Solar Cycles, Kevin, aside from you-know-whats and engine-thingies?”

“What? Tons of stuff, Jelaqua. We made a unicycle the other day just because. And kid’s tricycles! Rhaldon, you want a bike?”

Kevin led the way as Rinli followed, making notes and, Jelaqua suspected, putting together lists of what they’d need. She might not know all of what was going on, but it was nice to see Kevin lightening up. Plus, she’d decided training him so he didn’t get hurt wasn’t a bad use of time.

Cars. It was so simple! Between Kevin’s mechanical ability and Rhaldon’s knowledge of chemistry, it would be simple. They had science, magic, alchemy, and metallurgy on their side!

 

——

 

“Nope. Not doing it.”

Pelt was watching a duel between two [Martial Artists] on the scrying orb as he ate crab dipped in garlic butter. He glanced up long enough to deliver his final word and went back to watching.

“What? Pelt! C’mon! This is huge! It’ll change everything!”

The Dwarf just eyed the engine once, then beckoned.

“Boy, come here.”

Kevin walked over, and Pelt grabbed his shirt with a buttery-hand and pulled him forwards.

“How many little metal tubes and gears is in that damn thing, Kevin?”

“Uh, a lot? But Pelt—”

The other [Smiths], Grimalkin, and Pryde all watched as Jelaqua saw Maughin poring over plans for his forge. He smiled at her as she hugged him, then listened to the Dwarf. Pelt’s voice was grinding like stones.

“How many times do I have to reforge something because the measurements are a teensy bit off? The bicycles were bad enough, and they were nothing compared to this monstrosity. And let’s assume you’re correct. This will change the world, yes?”

“Yeah, it’ll—”

“I will not spend the rest of my life forging worthless steel bits like that!”

Pelt howled. He thrust Kevin away like he was warding off curses.

“Nor will any smith in my forge! Go ask Pallassian [Smiths] or even Dwarfhome—and they’ll be welcome to it! What you’re asking for is the kind of work that drives any honest [Smith] mad! No, not for all the gold in Pallass! Besides, I’m helping Maughin with his forge. Emessa, no work from Solar Cycles except for the bicycle parts!”

“Yes, Smith Pelt!”

Crestfallen, Rhaldon and Kevin regarded each other.

“But Pelt—dude!”

The Dwarf bounced an empty crab shell off Kevin’s face. Rhaldon was whispering to Kevin.

“It’s too hard to make anyways, Kevin. Think about it, this is after the industrial revolution. We need machining and mass-production.”

Grimalkin was hunting around for a notepad, but Lady Pryde just handed him one. There was no way of seeing Pryde’s face, but the aura around her blossomed with such affection as Grimalkin smiled at her that Jelaqua mimed gagging to Felkhr. The Gnoll just stared at her as if she was one to talk.

Crestfallen, Kevin clenched a fist.

“We’ll find another way! Maughin, what about—”

“I’m busy! Jelaqua, we’re working on the forge. We just need to lobby a [Senator], and Lady Blackwing has helped us tremendously in that regard.”

Maughin was smiling as he gestured to the plans, and Jelaqua hugged him one-armed. But she was confused and said so.

“I told you I’d help! And you were too shy to ask Pelt. I told you it wasn’t your fault! One question…Lady who? I don’t know a Lady Blackwing.”

He frowned at her.

“But she was the one who sent all the details to my forge. She said you’d asked on my behalf?”

She gave him a blank stare. It was Magus Grimalkin who snapped his fingers.

“Lady…Melika Blackwing? Garuda. Very fashionable.”

“Oh, her! Duh, forgot the last name. Yeah, she was great. And she only asked for my help with some kids!”

Jelaqua laughed as she slapped her forehead. Maughin chuckled in relief.

“You’ll forget to thank her, next. Her children? Or something else?”

The Selphid waved a hand as something tickled the back of her mind.

“Nah, it’s something she organizes? She helps a bunch of kids who’re poor or…and she was asking me to go to the event tomorrow…which is today…at midday…”

She stared out the window as Pelt stopped cheering on his favorite fighter. Everyone turned and peered at the window. The sun was merrily dipping its way through the sky. Probably…two o’ clock? Three, perhaps. Two if you wanted to be charitable.

Maughin turned to Jelaqua as the Selphid stood there. Kevin and Rhaldon exchanged a glance, and Rinli was suddenly all smiles.

“Well, we’d better be going. Kevin? Let’s bring Rhaldon to Solar Cycles and not interrupt everything. Excuse us Master Pelt.”

They dashed out the door, and Jelaqua stood there. She couldn’t exactly go paler, but after a second, she did go through the front door as it tried to swing closed so fast it blew off the hinges. Then she was just running and running—

She stopped once to grab Kevin and put him in a headlock.

“You’re coming with me.”

 

 

 

 

Author’s Notes:

I think I need to take my monthly break starting this Saturday. I’m ‘done’ with the Halfseeker side stories, but as you can tell, some get long, and my main problem is…edits.

I was editing for hours today to do this chapter—I’m burning out on edits, so I think I can manage one more ‘short’ chapter, and then the rest I need that week + the time before publishing to do.

I hope you understand how hard I’ve worked, though! This is good practice and good writing, just always pushing the limits.

Looking forwards to some rest. However, Kevin. In truth, I had more to write of his adventures, but this is enough especially given the Jelaqua chapter continues. Writing over 10k in a day is still hard! If I go over that any day, I’m earning my pineapple pizza. There is no point at which that’ll get easier both on the body or mind.

Still, I hope you enjoyed this first part of Jelaqua’s arc. Look forwards to the next one and then, well…you’ll see Lord Moore’s full arc as well. Then a closing chapter. It’s certainly Halfseekers focused but good practice! I want to do this again. Let me know how you’re enjoying the flow!

 

Otterdogs, Kelpie, and Fortress Beavers by Enuryn the [Naturalist]!

Portfolio: https://enuryndraws.art/

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/enuryn

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Enuryn_Nat

 

 

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