Avril just glared up at her father. Saying anything now would just make him angrier but she wasn’t giving in. She wasn’t going to lie about Booker solving the case.
“You won’t see another tournament under my watch, young lady. Not a one!” continued her father. They were behind a privacy screen at the victory ball but Avril was certain that her father’s ire was palpable beyond it. So embarrassing.
She wanted to say so many things. He just didn’t understand! It was about winning the reward, yes, but winning the reward because it was your reward. Johan had won! It wasn’t her reward anymore. Everyone would know she was a cheater if she wore that armour. Nobody serious would duel her at Bronze rank. Gods, anybody she beat at iron would mutter that she was a cheat!
“I’m sorry, father,” was all Avril said to her feet, just wanting to get away.
“Sorry? I’ll give you something to be sorry about!” her father raged. “You, young lady, will be going on a pilgrimage. Of penance! With a vow of poverty! I will see to it. Nothing but coins shall pass your lips until you reach the holy statue in Byzantopolis! You shall wear only holy vestments of Purity! Bare feet upon the ground!”
Avril looked at her father in alarm at the mention of Purity. Seething in his rage he’d forgotten even Betrayal Day. Her look reminded her father of his mistake and he struck her across the face.
He looked at his hand in shock and then glowered at her anew. He’d never hit her before. Monster cores or not, his bronze rank made the thoughtless blow hard enough to bruise but it was the shock of it that struck to Avril’s heart. Her father had hit her. It was… unseemly. Something that peasants did to their disgusting children in stories and her father…
Overcome, tears welled up in Avril’s eyes and she ran away.
“You are confined to family grounds, young lady. Confined!” called her father to her retreating back.
“Here we are, Mademoiselle Paternoster,” said Johan as he approached the viewing room. “I’m sure Dave will be happy to hear you out.”
Mademoiselle Paternoster thinned her lips in a polite attempt at a smile. Johan smiled back genuinely. You have to give a little to get some back, his mum always told him! He knocked on the door.
“Oh, hello!” said Hugh, opening the door. “Indeed, another guest for the party? I… suppose…” Hugh trailed off into his beard, looking over his shoulder at Dave and, surprisingly, Lady Reyer, who’d fought so skillfully that very afternoon. Johan gave a friendly wave. To show he meant well.
“Hugh, did you just reveal Reyer’s presence here while turning to ask if she wanted her presence here to be known?” said Dave, smirking.
Hugh worked his mouth and the door back and forth before chuckling at the ground in embarrassment. Johan decided to clear things up before the situation got more confusing.
“Actually Dave, Mademoiselle Paternoster here impressed upon me that she has something important to ask the both of us privately. I promised her that I would bring her before you and here we are,” said Johan, smiling at everyone. He didn’t want anybody to feel they weren’t welcome but he knew they’d respect a private conversation, so long as he was clear.
Dave raised his eyebrows but nodded. He was always skeptical that Dave, after all, he was a detective! But Johan knew he wasn’t wise to the ways of the world like Dave was. He certainly didn’t have access to all the learning that Dave had! So he felt that he was right to ask his book-bound friend’s opinion on this matter.
“Well, let's arrange some chairs,” said Dave, picking up a privacy screen that came with the room and walking away from the table he was seated at and to the viewing area with its plush armchairs. He spun one with his hand, bumped another around with his foot and lifted the third chair into place to form a triangle and continued the motion into a smooth bow, as casual as you please.
“Mademoiselle,” said Dave, bowing Paternoster into a seat which she took. However, he merely nodded at Johan. “Good to see ya, Johan. Those nobs treat you right?”
“They behaved like leaders of the lands,” said Johan. He felt this was true.
Dave tapped him lightly on the shoulder and grinned. Johan was beginning to understand the rules of Dave’s strange friendliness. The less he did, the more he liked you. That’s how it worked. It had been a slight and casual bow for Paternoster just then, which meant that Dave was wary, but willing to make friends. On the other hand, when he’d met Reyer senior earlier today, He’d given a full bow from the waist with correct foot and hand placement. Johan was pretty sure that meant he thought that the esteemed nobleman was a chump! How Dave came to such conclusions, Johan didn’t know but Dave was a clever guy. Perhaps there were sides to Reyer senior that Johan hadn’t seen yet. Like that Krump family that’d been driven out of town when Johan was eight.
“I am - sorry to have interrupted your celebrations, Detective,” said Paternoster as stiffly as she was sitting, perched on the edge of her luxurious armchair. Johan loved these chairs. “But, Johan and I were talking at the victory ball and we got to talking. To cut the cheese quickly, he said that you may be amenable to rectifying a wrong that my family has placed itself into?”
She talked just like Dave did. Such word selection! Johan just knew they could be friends and his heart swelled with joy.
“Might be,” said Dave, his posture and tone, a mixture of casual ease and hard edges that Johan admired. “You’ll have to actually tell me what you want at some point.” Dave gave a little smile. Just enough to show he was being playful, not cruel. “But, maybe it’ll help if I give you my word that any personal details you give me won’t be repeated outside of this conversation?”
Paternoster nodded and then collected herself. These two were just peas in a pod!
“My father bet some family heirlooms in the winner-takes-all pot,” confessed Paternoster, her cheeks flushing. “And I’m here to beg for their return.”
“Huh,” said Dave, giving her a shrewd look. Johan noticed the subtle flicker that meant Dave had used his time stopping ability. He flicked a piece of paper into his hand and gestured four pens to write a quick list. “Is this the lot? It’s all that’s marked as ‘Paternoster heirloom’ in our inventories.”
“Yes it is,” said Paternoster, lowering her eyes and reading the list down her nose. “What must I do to secure their return? I will take to my knees and promise to serve you, if I must.”
“Don’t you dare,” said Dave, in an affronted tone that Johan was pleased to hear. Dave hated being put above people in any way. His mother said it was a sign of a good heart. Johan supposed it was because Dave’s culture did that less-respect-is-more -friendship trick. “They have a monetary value. Your family are landholders. Why not just buy them off Johan?”
“Oh, she did offer, Dave,” said Johan quickly. He didn’t want any confusion on the matter. “But, she asked the name of my majordomo and I figured that’s you! What with your abilities being suited to this kind of task. We got to talking and I convinced her to just come see you.”
“Good man,” said Dave in approval. Johan internally congratulated himself for making the right decision.
“It’s true,” confirmed Paternoster, bowing her head in shame. “And, compounding my embarrassment, my father emptied the petty coin -”
“No fear,” interrupted Dave, waving a hand with casual acceptance. “I can accept the items being sold at current market cost in delayed instalments over the next year or two. To preserve the Paternoster name you can make the payments to my secretary who will invoice them as financial equity to my new research company; Booker Materials, but you’ll receive no shares. Agreed?”
“Ah, excuse me?” said Paternoster, taken aback.
“You… have a different idea?” asked Dave, his face open.
“No, it’s just - the offer is generous and I accept, Detective,” said Paternoster.
“I am aware that these items are worth more than the market price of similar items,” continued Dave. “But I need goodwill more than I need an extra ten percent on a sale. Besides, Johan here likes doing nice things like this. If honour demands you do me more then, speaking positively about our team, Executive Services, and my companies will suffice. If your conscience will allow it.”
“My conscience, Detective?” asked Paternoster.
“Yes, I wouldn’t ask you to lie,” said Dave. “Just that you be aware of my team, my companies and mention them in polite company should you feel it appropriate. If you don’t feel it, then I will take that as feedback that I need to make a better company.”
“That is a very respectable position,” said Paternoster carefully. Johan was becoming sure that she’d steeled herself for a shameful meeting where she’d be forced to become Dave’s adventuring lackey and was wrongfooted by Dave’s lack of interest in such a thing. “Shall we arrange a time to have the details…”.
Paternoster’s voice trailed off as her eyes fell on a piece of paper Dave had been writing while they talked. Johan’s quick skim of the paper revealed it as a draft agreement.
“This is a draft agreement that the items discussed will be exchanged for the market value of similar items as of today. Please see my business manager, Lianne Lane, to arrange the final details such as exact dates of payment. Here’s her address. The items shall be handed over the moment an agreement is formalised.”
Dave used his flying pens to float a copy of the draft into Paternoster’s hands and handed the other copy to Johan.
“If you’ll each sign both copies of the agreement to have an agreement,” said Dave, like it was a normal sentence, “then we can call this meeting closed and return to our respective celebrations.”
Johan smiled at Paternoster as they exchanged documents for signing.
“I’m glad you came with me, Mademoiselle Paternoster,” said Johan. “Didn’t I say that Dave would surely think of something that’d solve all of our problems?”
For her part, Paternoster just smiled shyly up at Johan before once more schooling her face and demurely lowering her eyes to the page she was signing.
“Before you go, Mademoiselle,” said Dave. “I have an interest in purchasing some mobility items much like you were outfitted with today. Are there any secrets or specific suppliers you could tell me about?”
“Oh! Well, I suppose I could,” said Paternoster with surprise, her eyes jerking away from Johan’s face. “Since we’re going to be business partners, I think I can tell you that. Yes. The family supplier Rochefort in the adventurer’s market in Lutetia. I’ll mention you.
“Most kind of you,” said Dave with his casual, minimalist bow.
“Will you allow me to walk you back to the victory ball, Mademoiselle Paternoster?” said Johan, bowing just the way Master Greenwood has taught him.
“Yes. No. I mean,” Paternoster stumbled over her words while staring into Johan’s baby-blue eyes. “I believe I have imposed enough on today’s victor and wish to return to the ball unattended but I thank you for the kind offer.”
Johan led Paternoster to the door and bowed her outside to which she curtsied without inclining her head in response, as was propper from noble to commoner, and swept away.
“Bloody exhausting,” said Dave, throwing himself into a chair across the table from Lady Reyer once the door had closed. “No wonder you nobles always want to kill something.”
“You’re just tired and hungry,” said Hugh, pouring beers from behind the bar.
Dave scowled, saw Lady Reyer looking imperiously at him and scowled more.
“Ho! What’s going on here then?” said Johan suddenly, inserting himself into the interaction before Dave did something he’d regret to a lady of the land. “It certainly is swell to see you, Lady Reyer.”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you, Mister Schmidt,” said Reyer, her noble countenance resting on Johan, who sat up straighter.
“She insisted on it,” remarked Dave dryly.
Johan got the feeling that Dave was annoyed at Lady Reyer and the dirty look she threw at Dave spoke of a recent history.
“Do you have any manners at all?” said Lady Reyer. “Speaking about me like that?”
“Which question would you like me to answer first?” said Dave in a flat tone.
“Alright, let’s not answer any of those questions,” said Hugh, arriving at the table with beers and a bread-and-cheese platter. “Indeed, Lady Reyer asked for Johan, our gentleman has arrived so why don’t we just let her speak without any further fraying of tempers? Lady Reyer, if you will.”
“Mister Schmidt, I’d like to speak with you privately about your team,” said Lady Reyer.
Such was her intensity that she almost forgot the presence of Dave and Hugh. Johan saw the source of conflict now. She had come to this room to see him and since Dave and Hugh were here, she’d expected to be waited upon, as was proper for one of her station, but Dave hadn’t told him his own station because, as Dave would see it, that was ‘tooting your own horn’. In his own words. An odd phrase but Johan liked it.
“Lady Reyer,” began Johan, performing a seated bow as best he could. “I fear you are under misapprehensions that my friends have not had the opportunity to correct. This entire room has misunderstanding wrought upon it.”
“I - I see,” said Lady Reyer, her face going ashen.
“Have no fear, good lady. Today has been a great day for the gods delivering unexpected good news but first, we must all understand each other. I do not wish to question your noble senses but you asked about my team?”
“Yes, I wish to privately discuss your team,” said Lady Reyer.
Dave figured out what was happening, sighed in frustration and slumped forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. Lady Reyer seemed not to notice.
“Lady Reyer, with greatest respect,” said Johan as kindly as he could. “I am not the intended leader of this team.”
“But - You’re the leader,” said Reyer in obvious confusion. “Oh, is it Lord Noguera? I saw you were speaking?”
Dave was still pinching the bridge of his nose and had graduated to shaking his head.
“The intended leader of team Executive Services is Detective Dave Booker,” said Johan gesturing to the ignored Dave.
Lady Reyer’s attention whipped to Dave was still shaking his head and, at that moment, taking a pull of beer.
“Hi,” said Dave with that casual ease that Johan so envied. “I’m still here, welcome back to other people existing. Oh, and if you push your will against mine like that again, I’m going to forget that you came here as a frightened girl asking for help and bodily throw you out the door.”
“He didn’t mean that!” said Hugh, swiftly raising his hands. “Lady Reyer, please don’t do anything rash, we are all friends here.”
“Hugh, I appreciate you being a peacemaker for the last hour but she is not my friend. She has been a miserable cloud since she arrived and I’m tired of tolerating her looking down her nose at me, giving those indignant sniffs and refusing to elaborate.” He turned to Reyer. “Woman, say what you need to and then fuc-”
Johan clamped a hand over Dave’s mouth before he could complete such a rude sentence.
“Lady Reyer,” said Johan as quickly as he could. “Detective Booker is a gentleman and scholar in the lands of Ahitereiria!”
Lady Reyer went through a variety of emotions and settled on open mouthed puzzlement.
“And while I still respect you as a liege lord of mine,” continued Johan, once again bowing while seated, “The air of the table tells me that you may have mistaken him for a servant and expected him to wait upon you until my return?”
Lady Reyer’s face moved and she started flushing red with embarrassment.
“Hugh is a man of the cloth and unwise in the way of etiquette,” said Johan with the kindest smile he could muster. “And Dave is a foreigner to our ways. I’m sure that he made foreign attempts at etiquette that passed unnoticed. Please, good lady, this is all a misunderstanding.”
“Attempts at etiquette, Mister Schmidt? The first thing he did was turn his back on me and offer to drink at the same table. I don’t care what you call eti-”
“And the first thing you did,” interrupted Dave, “was look down your nose at me and demand to be entertained. Now, you were upset so I overlooked your behaviour. Hugh and I even put away -”
“I was not upset!” argued Lady Reyer. “By what right do you pass comment upon me?”
“The right of anybody who can see tear streaks on your face, girl,” said Dave.
“Lady Reyer!” interrupted Johan, before she could express the anger that was showing in her face. “As I said, the good detective is a gentleman and a scholar in his own lands. I would beg of you to consider his rights in that light.”
“If I may be so bold as to interrupt,” said Hugh, shyly inserting himself into the argument like a timid mouse. “But, Lady Reyer, how would you treat an instructor from the Remore Academy? After all, they famously have no titles nor peerage. Surely, you wouldn’t go so far as to call such a person a servant?”
Dave clearly had something biting to add but kept his peace and merely sighed angrily.
“They’re different,” said Lady Reyer, not looking at Hugh.
“Cool. I’m different,” said Dave.
“Lady Reyer,” said Johan quickly, before she could snap back at Dave. “I do believe this entire situation has been a misunderstanding. I can assure you that outside of formal occasions, Dave here is a reasonable and generous man. Please, do not call me a liar on this account.”
“For the sake of my opinion of you, Mister Schmidt,” sniffed Lady Reyer haughtily, "I am willing to listen to your words and overlook the company you are keeping."
“I’ll take what I can get,” said Dave in response to Johan’s pleading look.
“That’s all settled then!” said Johan, beaming at everyone. “See? We can all be together again. With that done, Lady Reyer, please speak openly with us all.”
Lady Reyer hesitated, glancing very obviously at Hugh and Dave.
“Anything you say to Johan, we’ll both eventually end up learning about,” said Dave, his casualness extending to selecting cheese and bread from the platter while he talked to one of such noble blood. “And even though I will admit to an active dislike of you and your kind, I have enough nobility about myself to keep secrets secret. Unlike your type.”
“Do not paint all with the same brush, Dave,” said Johan. “The blood of Dominion’s chosen runs righteous and true. They are the best of us! You will see their goodness when we start adventuring. I guarantee it.”
Johan felt his chest swell with sympathy for Dave and pride at what they were going to do together.
“I’m sorry detective but what do you know of actual nobles?” asked Lady Reyer. “Are you not new to the Byzasic Empire?”
“New and attacked by an aristocrat who’d joined the Builder cult within my first minute here,” said Dave, popping a small square of cheese into his mouth with his usual, calm demeanour.
“It was Betrayal Day, Lady Reyer. The very day he arrived in these lands,” said Johan.
“You can’t seriously be -”
“Before you think that I’m mixing up your peers and the Builder cult,” said Dave in a deadly serious tone. “The first non-Builder cult aristocrat I met was Ross Geller. Who convicted me at a glance of ‘poaching’ ‘his’ monsters and demanded I kiss his boots before attempting to arrest me. I had to flee for my life.”
Dave locked eyes with Lady Reyer.
“Oh,” she said simply.
“And then I was kidnapped by Lady Geller, who almost killed me because I was unlucky enough to meet her son before he died, then I came here and experienced the scheming and dishonourable conduct of the tournament.”
“That doesn’t mean -”
“What I am asking of you, Lady Reyer,” said Dave raising a hand to ward off her protestations, “is to understand my dislike of nobility ought to be natural given my experiences.”
“I… I didn’t know,” said Lady Reyer. “That’s quite a list, detective.”
“And now you do know,” said Dave. “And, for those willing to listen, my patience was always available, as is my discretion. Now, do tell us why you came here, Lady Reyer. Please.”
Dave gave the first smile Johan had seen him give Lady Reyer and beamed encouragingly at her himself. She took a moment to collect herself, straightened her back and addressed everyone at the table.
“Mister Schmidt, during the award ceremony we were talking and you promised that someday we would go adventuring together.”
Dave lowered a piece of bread he was raising to his lips, slumped his shoulders and started draining his beer stein instead.
“I do remember that, Lady Reyer,” said Johan, smiling that someone so high would remember what he’d said.
“May I -”
“You’re in,” said Dave, as though in defeat. His calm, nonchalance extended to refilling his stein from a large pitcher. “On the condition you put aside nobility, peerage, bloodlines and all of that nonsense while you’re with us.”
“I had actually hoped to travel incognito,” admitted Lady Reyer, surprise slipping through her controlled demeanour.
“A great day for the gods delivering unexpected good news,” said Hugh, giving the table his whiskery smile. “Johan you soothsayer.”
Johan chuckled and even Lady Reyer allowed herself a small smile at the unexpected convenience of the outcome. Dave just sighed heavily and looked at Lady Reyer and shot her a question.
“I don’t suppose it’d be too much to ask the gods’ latest gift to the team if you can help us leave the city without getting mugged by the peerage?”
Madeline checked her timepiece. Three minutes until the hour. Time to go. She stood from her desk, picked up the file marked ‘Dave Booker’, quickly went over her notes and portaled to the maintenance airfield outside Oullins.
“Good to see you, Brisset,” said Booker with a functional nod.
She liked that about him. Functional. Someone who could make things happen. People like that were hard to get and she felt good about getting some Remore hooks in this one. They walked a short distance to a meeting room that Booker had commandeered from some airship engineers.
“Pleasantries?” asked Booker, holding up a piece of paper that had a list of various sweet biscuits, pastries and drinks on it.
“No,” said Madeline. She liked that he only attempted to ply her with pleasant distractions as an option and took the refusal with a neutral acceptance. He was just so… functional.
“Then let’s get started,” said Booker. “Where are we on the Geller front?”
“She is incessant with rage. I have negotiated something of an agreement with Franchet that will function like what you call a restraining order on her,” said Madeline. “He has forbidden her from engaging with anybody associated with her son’s death. My sources tell me that you are not the only one who has been brought before her against their will and my feeling is that my pressure merely gave the baron an excuse to act.”
Madeline didn’t normally like to bring speculations to a fresh iron ranker but she judged that Booker was sensible enough to realise he shouldn’t act on higher ranked business.
“Franchet also met with several Adventure Society officials and word is that he’s asking them to crack down on procedural indiscretions. Specifically, things like telling concerned parents where their children are adventuring.”
“Oh, I see,” said Booker, nodding. “If they can’t tell Lady Whatsherface where her little darling is, they’ll know for sure they can’t tell Geller where I am.” He clenched his jaw for a moment. “Good for me but will probably make her even more mad. Do you think she’s becoming crazed in her grief?”
“I do,” said Brisset, glad Booker had taken the right meaning from the news. “I was going to recommend active avoidance of Oullins and anywhere you hear of a Geller or anybody connected to them.”
“Noted. What with Hugh and Sam on the team, going into big cities will only be done with a disguise from now on,” said Booker.
She could feel he had nothing more to say on the matter.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Onto the ship, the captain insists on a name for the vessel,” said Madeline.
“I made a list,” said Booker, reaching into his pocket and handing over a slip of paper. “I like the top three; the Aeronaut, the Enterprise and the Flying Vitesseman but I think he’ll like the last one the most.”
Brisset looked at the last entry.
“The Second Wind,” said Brisset. She smiled. “It fits.”
“Yeah, it’s almost a shame,” said Booker in his more dry tone. “Those other names would be a nice homage to some really inspirational ships back home.”
“Focus on the here and now,” advised Madeline. “It’s your ship but it’s the crew’s life. Buy a pleasure craft when you hit silver and name it whatever you want.”
“Good idea!” said Booker, clearly filing her half-sardonic idea away for later. “How are we doing for crew?”
“Crew of fifteen. A mixture of young engineers, old hands and the only mate who still wanted to work with Captain Dimont.”
“That’s the one who remembers him when he was young?”
“Correct.”
“How’s the ship been flying?”
“Well enough, after you told Dimont to stop shouting at the engineers.”
“He’s still shouting at the mate, isn’t he?”
“He shouts at her on principle.”
Dave nodded. She was the one who’d taken the blame for the enchanted tattoo across Dimont’s back that made alcohol the wearer drank taste like rancid milk and then made them vomit.
“Well, the resentment of his crew is an issue but at least he’s on board with the ship being a dry ship. I’d want the ship dry no matter who was captain but I don’t think anyone else would agree to it. Sailors just love their grog too much.”
“That’s true,” said Madeline. “You’ve read the personnel reports?”
“Yes, and I agree with your assessment. The crew is likely to get along even though there’s potential for them leaning into an engineers against deckhands dynamic. I think I’ll try to keep them all focused on the idea of an experimental ship and we’re all figuring things out together.”
Madeline paused for long enough to allow Dave to keep speaking. He merely gave a slight nod. She continued onto the next topic.
“Hydrogen generation is proceeding as planned. Costs are already down to lessers on the irons. Did you go over the plans?”
“Yes, seems fine. Those interconnected meshes will increase the surface area nicely. I reckon that whole project is underway properly. Did you make any headway on galvanisation?”
“None, I’m afraid. Still full of impurities.”
“Sorry, I can’t remember more. I know it uses lye and another sodium-based chemical in the solute. Oh, and about electromagnets. I completely forget how they’re supposed to make electricity. I know it has something to do with moving magnets near copper coils with an electrical current.”
Dave sighed and clenched his jaw in frustration at his inability to remember the most simple things about basic physics and chemistry. It was so frustrating. Give him a modern laboratory with a shelf full of chemicals, centrifuges, fume hood, various fridges, incubators, multiple samples of human cell lines and double-distilled water on tap and he could investigate which chemicals would cure any disease you could throw at him. It was amazing how useless he felt without all of that modern infrastructure that his previous job had been built on.
“Anything else?” asked Madeline. It was a short meeting. They’d just about got Booker set up in this world. She’d be setting him free to go adventuring soon.
“Will Miss Lane have any trouble setting up a materials research company?”
“I can only guess what that is so I’m going to guess; no. Why?”
“Oh, I secured funding for one from the Paternosters in exchange for some heirlooms. Yeah, I’m thinking of looking for this stuff called bauxite. Really good metal to work with back home.”
“I shall look forward to seeing it discovered here. Onto the next point; Master Remore would like the following items identified.”
Madeline lay several items on the table from her pocket.
“Oh, yeah. No problems!”
Booker began touching each item in turn, interacting with his outworlder racial that overlayed his sight and then using his abilities to print the results onto leafs of paper he brought from his inventory.
“Out of my own interest,” said Madeline. “Is that the Reyer child I saw on my way in?”
“Yep!” said Booker between concentrating on abilities. “She joined us recently in response to Johan being a good, polite boy.” His face twisted slightly. “I figured she’s spying on us or something, but I don’t think we’re going to do anything worth spying on. Just completing contracts. And, we really need someone with adventuring experience as well as another damage dealer. She fits the bill perfectly so I snapped her up when she asked. You know anything?”
“Word is she had an argument with her father at the victory ball.”
“Ah, running away from daddy then? Not spying? Nevermind. Could be a bit of both. Running away and spying? Or whatever. I’ll let her tell me when she wants me to know.”
“You might make an enemy of her father.”
“Good point. I’ll try and make sure that me and my team are positioned as merely the transport she used to run away. Thanks.”
He finished up in a few more moments and gestured at the table in general. Madeline took the items back into her inventory.
“You’re welcome, Booker. Until our next meeting.”
“To confirm, that’s the 24th, right? Just before the Adventure Society intake?”
“Correct.”
“Until then, Brisset.”
He offered a hand which she shook and then left. It felt cordial. Madeline hadn’t told him about the academy already experimenting with the compressed hydrogen and oxygen gases to project burning naptha in a destructive fireball that seared the skin from yards away. She wondered if she should.
Hugh led them to the market district of Chaponost with his own quest ability. The town on the outskirts had a large aquaduct-side set of stalls to walk past with a charming selection of all shops down aqueduct lane, as it was called. It reminded him of visiting Heidelberg markets as a student. The region was florally picturesque and there were historic buildings - well, constructions - to gaze upon.
Sam was a source of vicarious enjoyment on the expedition. It was two days after the tournament but Dimont and the other aeronaughts on the Second Wind had assured her that Chaponost was well away from anybody’s route. Her isolation from the last two years had been hard on her so travelling around the outlying towns of Oullins for the last week had been healing for her. She loved being with people and was happily flitting from one stall to the next, eating street food and staring at the goods on display.
Brisset had sent Sam advice about what to look for when it came to buying some comfortable, fashionable clothes but first they were going to the armourer she recommended. Daviau Journeyman Armoured Supplies. Philip Daviau was still working towards his mastery of smithing and, while improving his skills, maintained a good business of banging out affordable, solid pieces suitable for house guards and budget iron rankers but mostly, they were going there because Dave had heard there was a young but talented and eccentric apprentice enchanter who had a specialty for changing the magical properties of equipment without losing much potency in the item. What Dave knew of enchanting could be summarised on a single sheet of paper but he understood that changing the enchantments of an item was basically similar to bleaching your hair and re-dying it; it was very easy to lose quality and very hard to keep it a hundred percent.
Hugh pointed out the place as their enjoyable market stroll came to it. Hugh and Johan, not needing armour, planned to drop Sam and Dave off and go browsing the weapons displays and note anything that looked promising and so, the group split with waves goodbye and the pair strolled into the open air armour shop.
“Good morning, mister and miss! How can we help you?” asked a man who was bashing holes in some leather strips but put down his tools, wiped his hands on a clean cloth and walked over with a hand extended. “Philip Daviau, are you interested in my display pieces? An order? Or, something else I can help you with?”
Sam took his hand and shook it gently, smiling up at him with her most winning smile.
“Good morning, mister Daviau! I’m Samorn Khantong. I need five sets of plate suitable for humanoid summons. Here is their padding layer, if it helps!”
Sam took an extremely thick example of under armour padding designed to fit over her skeletons and held it up in front of the armourer.
“Humanoid summons?” probed Daviau.
Sam hesitated. She was terrible at lying. Even when she practised.
“They’re a pixelax variant. They have a ribcage made of twigs and look pretty creepy so we’re covering them completely. They fit inside these padded clothes pretty good so, basically, armour for a really skinny person, these dimensions and you’re set,” lied Dave.
Sam nodded and smiled in confirmation at Daviau.
“Perhaps it would be easier if you just summoned the creatures?” offered Daviau.
“I can’t! They would be very expensive to summon here,” said Sam without a lie. It might cost her life.
Daviau and Sam started talking about armour details, drawing a few pictures and talking about materials while Dave browsed the gear on display, looking at the minor magical effects he could see. He summoned Tome to his hands and started taking notes.
“What’re you doing?” said a brown-haired man who looked like he was trying out for the unremarkable person olympics. Dave gazed at him like he was a work of art. It was like meeting a TV background extra in real life.
“I’m sorry Mister, but you look like you are trying to steal trade secrets and if you are please don’t but if you aren’t I’m sorry?” accused the man in the most placid manner possible.
“Oh? No! No. If I’m stealing trade secrets then I want in on this trade and the secrets legitimately. Sorry, Dave Booker,” said Dave, holding out his hand.
“James James,” said James, flopping his hand at Dave’s.
Dave applied his poker face.
“What trade are we talking about, James?” asked Dave.
“Enchanting?” asked James.
“I feel like that shouldn’t be a question?” asked Dave
James shuddered in the manner of the socially awkward stuck in the no-man’s-land of uncharted conversation.
“I feel like I should point out that I’m from Ahitereiria,” said Dave. It was this plane’s Australia continent except that here it was an inhospitable land with diamond rank background magic. It took powerful top, diamond rank adventurers to make colonies there but there were a few. Dave had checked.
“One of the bubble colonies? Oh, you must have seen so much magic!” said James, staring down the street with repressed excitement.
“Actually no!” said Dave glumly. “Sorry to be a dampener but the community leaders kept us normal folk well away from all of that for, you know, obvious reasons considering the power there.”
“Oh, yes, that would make sense because it’d be much easier to make a null zone than make it safe.”
“Yep! One teleportation accident later and here I am becoming an adventurer so, what about these enchantments? Never seen it been done myself.”
“Oh, enchanting is the best. I love enchanting because you can imbue magic into an item while it's being made because if you do it which it's made you can put it inside the item where it’s more powerful so most magic item creators imbue in the making but they’re limited to items that they can make but if you’re an enchanter then the makers hire you to make all the items so it’s better,” said James in one extremely long sentence to a chair leg near Dave without taking a breath.
“Enchanting is your favourite thing, isn’t it?” said Dave with a grin.
“Yes! I love it! All the different things you can do! Did you know you can enchant flowers to sing just by growing them into the right pattern?”
“You mean by planting them in the right pattern or growing their stem in the right pattern?”
James’ eyes, staring at the aqueduct, lit up with happiness at the thought.
“I could do both, you know I could make them sing and be a mana lamp.”
“Wait, is that what you did here, on this piece?” said Dave, pointing at a breastplate. “I thought I saw overlapping magic and couldn’t figure it out but you put a different enchantment on each layer of the armour, didn’t you?”
“Yes! I was stuck doing the checker-pattern technique for years and managed that breakthrough last year but now the self-cleaning attribute is more efficient and the quintessence charge lasts four times longer.”
“Nice! Done anything with high tensile fabrics?”
“I’ve used a bit of trap weaver silk but it’s tricky to use but you can turn it into a fabric.”
“I have some trap blinder silk hanging around somewhere? Is that any good?”
“No, it doesn’t stretch as well so I think it’s used in glue.”
“Huh! Weird. It’s not reconstituted into a different kind of fabric?”
“Maybe? I just do enchanting.”
“Fair enough. Where do you get most of your raw materials?”
“You need coin and quintessence for almost everything but the best stuff is actually if you can get good at breaking down items because you can more than double your profit on buying restricted essence kit.”
“Restricted essence kit?”
“Yes, people with looting powers sometimes get items that relate to abilities from restricted essences? Well, of course nobody wants to buy them. Even most enchanters don’t want to be associated with them.”
“Afraid of some kind of taint?”
“Yes, but it’s just superstition. You see, bad enchanters don’t know how to separate the quintessence properly so they keep getting impure extractions but if you measure everything properly and draw the rituals properly it’s easy and once you’re good enough to do that you can extract all the quintessence instead of the half or three-quarters that the others get and then you’re making heaps of coin just on breaking down stuff so you can do whatever you want for the rest of the day like make a new wand which I really want to do because I have a new idea for a wand.”
“So, if you’re a good enchanter, you can buy restricted kit on the cheap and take all the magic out of it? And sell it at a good margin?”
“Or use it for your own enchanting for an even better margin, carry?”
“But, the enchanters who aren’t that good can’t extract all the magic from the items and leave a bit of evil behind?”
“Something like that, yeah, the process is called disenchanting and they get the solvent ratios wrong because they don’t measure when the ambient mana is calm which means they sometimes get a bad reaction and extract the restricted quintessence instead which they think is bad luck but really it isn’t because they did it wrong and if they wanted to not get restricted quintessence, which is actually restricted, only the essences are restricted but that’s what it’s called but if they actually wanted to extract the quintessence without a bad reaction they’d just extract it all because they only get the bad reaction because they’re trying to leave the restricted quintessence behind.”
“Sounds good. I’ll remember that when I do my fist disenchanting,” grinned Dave.
“Really? You want to do enchanting? I can show you!”
“Woah, not yet, mate,” said Dave to a surprised face. He telekinetically brought a stylus to Tome hanging in the air. But definitely in the future. I’ve got Eldritch Sight, a magic book for rituals, Tools Of The Magister and a personal dimensional space that is great for carrying stuff. Enchanting seems ideal, yeah?”
“Gods yes!” laughed James right at the table he was leaning on. “Those are magical researcher abilities but aren’t you an adventurer, though?”
“Yeah, me and Sam there. She’s a healer-summoner and I’m a booker. She solves most of the problems and I blast the ones she can’t. Do you think you could enchant cheap-single use objects? Like a piece of wood where if you start falling for too long it slows your fall?
“Oh, yeah, easy because I wanted to make some wax seals that’d make a loud noise when someone who wasn’t supposed to touch it, touched it because I heard an adventurer complain that her teammate always opened the pay envelope while nobody was looking but the master said nobody would but anything like that so I did make it.”
“But how about a one-use item that’d save someone from falling off a cliff?”
“Ha, yeah, I could do that, it’d be really easy but I already know that adventurers already have slow fall belts so my master won’t like it if I made them.”
“How do you like working here, James? Good place to learn? Lots of opportunities?”
James shot a nervous glance at Daviau.
“It’s alright,” he said to his feet.
Dave made up his mind in that instant.
“You’ve been told your whole life to look people in the eye, haven’t you?” said Dave.
James quickly shot his eyes at Dave with a pained expression.
“I don’t need you to look at me, I know it’s difficult,” said Dave, staring down the street, away from James. “It feels uncomfortable for you, doesn’t it? And you don’t know why. And you just want to be enchanting and talking about enchanting all day, right?”
“Yeah, I sure do think that’d be really great,” said James with a huge smile across his face, looking towards the back door of the shop.
“Tell you what,” said Dave. “I’ve got a pretty big enchanting order and I want you to do it all, but I also want you to come with me on my flying ship. We’re going to go over every town we can, buy all the restricted kit we can, turn it all into quintessence, make as many cool items as we can and I’ll let you see how they work in combat. You want to come? You won’t even have to look at anybody you don’t want to?”
“Sweet gods, you’d let me watch my own items working in combat? Oh, I really, really want that, sir!” said James, shivering with enthusiasm and inspecting the pencil he was holding really closely.
“Let me speak with Daviau,” said Dave. “I’ll figure something out. You can learn enchanting from a book, right?”
James nodded at the wall beside Dave with a silly grin.
“Nice. No problems for your apprenticeship them. So, while I still know nothing, do you have any enchantment recommendations for a booker like me?” asked Dave.
“Oh, bookers are easy, yes! The mana surge enchantment. Gives a full mana pool on a long cooldown. Most people prefer a mana regen enchantment because at iron rank they’ll get more after about six hours but as a booker, you want mana surge because you’ll get an extra spell when you use it and it doesn’t interfere with other mana regen buffs or potions so you can still use them to get an extra spell.”
“Nice. How much will that set me back?”
“Set you back?”
“Sorry. Saying where I’m from. Set me back monetarily is what it means. The cost?”
“I don’t know. Never done one before,” said the awkward, bland man, focusing his eyes on the floor, looking for the centre of the planet.
“Well, let’s put that at the start of our list of commissions, hey? Anyway, it seems like Sam and Daviau have figured out their details and I need to order some armour too.”
Dave and James waited a few moments as Mister Daviau and Sam finalised her order and she pointed to Dave as the one holding the coin.
“Will that be all, Mister…?” asked Daviau.
“Booker,” said Dave.
“Oh! And you are a booker!” blurted out James.
Daviau gave James a long-suffering look and James suddenly found one of the display pieces extremely interesting.
“He’s right,” said Dave with a smile. “Funny coincidence. I guess I must have an ancestor who worked in a library, hey?”
“I wouldn’t guess, Mister Booker,” said Daviau professionally. “You will be making the purchase for Miss Khanthong?”
“She’ll be making the purchase. I just carry her money,” said Dave with a nod. “My personal inventory stacks coins.”
“Ah! Of course! The bonds of friendship bring trust, and trust brings convenience. You are happy with the estimate?” smiled the armourer displaying the quote he’d written the price on. Five suits of rough but durable plate armour with a minor self-repairing enchantment. Individually cheap but all five added up to about the price of a single good suit of armour. Still, it was about what he expected.
“I’d just like to add my own purchase. I need some armour.”
“You’ll have to be more specific than that! Unless you want to buy my entire stock. What kind of armour? How mobile are you? Any abilities to consider?”
“Fair enough!” said Dave with a self-deprecating grin. “My mobility is mostly me riding around on a summoned horse, sorry, heidel or pini, and I’m a booker with Tools Of The Magister, so mostly I shoot from well behind a guardian type.”
“Ah! From heidelback? You’ll be wanting a look at the classic hunting armour,” drawled Daviau lazily, going over to a display piece and rapping his knuckles on it. “A strong breastplate and helm with durable, reinforced clothing. The helms are over there. Many of the local nobility who enjoy hunting get essence powers that can be used while mounted and this is what they prefer.”
“Not for some stupid nobility reason is it?” asked Dave sceptically.
“Not at all, Mister Booker. Mounted hunting, which is how you are describing yourself, is easier when unencumbered by armour. So I am told.”
“May I?” asked Dave, indicating at the helms.
“By all means,” indicated Daviau.
Dave picked up a helm and held it above the breastplate. It looked shockingly similar to a napoleonic-era cavalry set he’d seen in London. He guessed that this plane of existence had developed a similar solution to the same kinds of cavalry problems in his home universe.
“Then I want the full mounted man’s cuirass that’ll keep anything out of my chest cavity. If that means adding a half-gorget or a placard then do it. And, can I have the helm without the crest and add a glass face-shield?”
“Of course, sir, what sort of visibility would you like on the helm?”
“Full visibility,” said Dave. “A dome of shatter-proofed glass, like a normal person’s version of what Abelard Perrot used recently in the local tournament.”
“I didn’t see it, sir,” said Daviau. “Perhaps if you can explain.”
“Give me a minute, I can make a sketch of what I’m thinking,” said Dave.
Eventually, with Daviau’s help, Dave ended up with a sketch on some scrap paper that looked to Dave like a Napoleonic dragoon helm with attachments inspired by motorcycle helmets and probably the armour from Halo.
“This is an interesting design, Mister Booker,” said Daviau.
“You reckon it’ll work? In your professional opinion?” asked Dave.
“It will protect you, for sure! Most adventurers just use an open faced helm until they can afford something with a one-way invisibility enchantment but this item fills an interesting middle ground, sir. The magical glass will be the most expensive part since we don’t want that shattering into your eyes but with a high collar on your clothing and this helm your vital organs will be very protected from any damage. May I ask why you made these design choices?”
“I have two healers on the team so, as long as those vital organs are working, I will live. That’s why I want the chest completely covered. As for the helm, every moment I’m not shooting my wand accurately is lost damage for my team so I want good visibility as well as something to stop mud, sweat or blood from getting into my eyes,” said Dave.
“That makes sense, Mister Booker. I have some suggestions for the design to better suit your purpose, if you will allow me, perhaps?
Daviau took to the sketch and laid out some ideas for design changes and simple enchantments which Dave accepted.
“Now, for the main enchantments, do you have anything -”
“Mana surge for the cuirass and I believe that with an astral lantern familiar, burning eyes for the helm?”
“Perfect choices, both,” said Daviau, noting them down.
“Thank you, Mister Daviau. Now for one more thing, I’d like to have James here as an in-house enchanter for my adventuring team. Now, I know it’s unusual but James seems confident that he can turn a profit by disenchanting items and my team has access to some pretty fast transport so, my proposal is, you get a cut of the profit from his disenchanting, for the inconvenience of a missing apprentice and I get the rest. Besides, I’ve met lads like him before and we both know he'll be reading about enchanting all day so he won’t really be delayed, will he?”
“You’ve truly met people like him before?” said Daviau with interest.
“Yep!” said Dave lightly. “Looks everywhere but at you when you’re talking, hyper-fixates on doing things that don’t matter, won’t shut up about their special interest. Am I right?”
Daviau glowered at James who paid special attention to a leather-working tool on the bench.
“In truth,” said Daviau quietly. “He’s here because Master Guillory couldn’t stand trying to discipline him anymore. Guillory is a hard man who doesn’t tolerate disrespect and James wouldn’t look at him when talking to him.” Daviau shook his head. “The poor boy ended up crying whenever the master came into the room. I brought him out here two years ago and he’s stopped the rotten weeping but I still cannot coax him to behave like a proper man.” He sighed. “I don’t want him boxed about the head five times a day but my charity only reaches so far, Mister Booker.”
“He is behaving exactly as the gods intended him to,” said Dave, trying to keep a hard tone out of his voice.
“I know, Mister Booker, I know. The boy is touched by one of them, Knowledge knows which one, but with an apprenticeship it is the master’s duty to make them a craftsman and if the boy cannot even look at a customer…”
Daviau gestured hopelessly.
“Let me worry about that,” said Dave gently. “After all, I’ve known a few people like that. They’re not like everyone else. Most of us know the direction of our craft and what society needs from us but the gods didn’t give us the talent and motivation to be great. His kind, the gods have given ample talent and motivation but nothing else. They just need someone to help navigate other people.”
“Well, you speak like you already know him, I’ll give you that,” said Daviau. “But I am also responsible for the boy’s good health. I cannot send him away unless I know he will be treated well.”
“When I return next week for the orders I will bring a friar of Knowledge who can speak to the boy's health in my care, will that satisfy you?”
“The week? I don’t work lazily, Mister Booker. Three days,” said Daviau. “Bring your friar in three days as well as - boy! How much will Mister Booker’s entire order cost?”
Staring seriously at the floor, James shuffled over and handed over a boilerplate work order with the sums already done.
“Do you accept the price?” asked Daviau.
Dave used Stop And Think with Epistemology to check. It was a little expensive but not by enough to bother an attempt at haggling. Dave figured, pay the man what he was worth and keep him happy.
“I do,” said Dave, signing at the bottom.
Daviau also signed the sheet, went to the counter and used a non-magical machine to make a copy which he handed to Dave.
“It has been good working with you, Mister Booker. I look forward to seeing you in three days,” said Daviau, extending his hand.
“I’ll be happy to see you then too, Mister Daviau,” said Dave, shaking his hand. “See you then, James! Thanks for the talk.”
Dave waved at James which was returned in the confused manner of someone used to being ignored.
When they were out of the shop, Sam turned to Dave.
“I thought you were just going to order enchantments from him?”
“That was before I met James, Sam,” said Dave. “He’s having a horrible time. I think he’s autistic which isn’t accepted well in any society, let alone this one, which is annoying for James because what he has isn’t a sickness. He just likes different things to the rest of us.”
“Did he tell you life story?” asked Sam, confused.
“No, he just talked about enchantments.”
“Enchanting? Is really difficult magic!”
“Apparently so but with him around, we have a good excuse to buy every restricted item we find in all the markets,” grinned Dave. “And just hand off the best ones to you.”
Sam’s eyes went wide and her grin lit up as she laughed.
“Dave? Really?”
“Sure! As well as a good cover for buying your stuff, enchanting actually seems pretty cool. Expensive to pursue but a good way to get the exact items I want for myself, right?”
“But it’s very hard and very expensive!”
“We’re rich as hell right now and James is a talent who can turn a profit with disenchanting so we can handle difficult and expensive. Besides, with a lack of competition for death essence items, you’ll probably end up with some really powerful ones for disenchantment scrap prices.”
“Oh,” said Sam, smiling happily up at Dave. “I didn’t think of that!”
“I’m rather counting on it,” said Dave. “Since I’m going to be really item dependent to remain relevant in combat so mine are going to be really expensive.”
“Is fine!” said Sam with her sympathetic smile. “You are strong in your own way.”
“Yeah, true,” said Dave slyly. “But, I might try to buy a few other ways to be strong if I can.”
Sam laughed.
“Why did you pick armour enchantment today?”
“I asked James what I should buy and he told me.”
“Dave, you shouldn’t trust the people in the store like that!”
“Did James really look like a salesman to you, Sam?”
Sam hid her guilty smile with her hand and shook her head. Dave grinned back.
“He’s just a shy geek who wants to share his knowledge to anybody who’ll listen. I guarantee he knows the name of every enchantment in the books he can get his hands on.”
“What’s a geek?”
“Someone whose head lives inside books more than anywhere else.”
Sam turned this information over in her mind for a few moments and then turned her happiest grin back to Dave.
“Dave you are a geek!” said Sam and laughed with her hand over her mouth.
With days to spare before the Adventure Society trials, Executive Services, figured it was best to go through Dave’s backlog of quests in the Oullins area. He’d already completed Dominion’s quest: Making A Magnate the moment he stepped on board the Second Wind as its owner, having technically hired the entire crew as employees in that moment. Dave was a little surprised as the amount of business he was making in this reality but figured that it was probably easier for him to see gaps in the market, having come from a capitalist society into this feudal one.
Doing one last big shop in the city, Dave and Hugh investigated Dapcher Orphanage in Oullins for signs of exploitation. Turn out, no signs of exploitation, just a big kid that the warden couldn’t. Hitting the other kids, stealing food, and such. The quest was already complete but the orphanage had Dave and Hugh feeling charitable so they did all the kids a favour and dropped their bully off at a mill where there were five older, stronger children. Dave wished the smelly, little bastard luck before he left.
While they were there in the city, Dave and Hugh cleared out the Mine Monsters quest over lunch. Turns out ‘The Mine’ is a popular bar in the Monluc area of Oullins and the monsters were just stone chewer rats. Dave looked them up in the Adventure Society living monster list which said they were dangerous enough if there was a rat king but, there wasn’t. Another quest down, coins in the bag, they both moved on.
They moved onto the kidnapped kid quest, Rescue Lucas’s Daughter, because it seemed time sensitive so, the same day they left the city. Dave and Hugh reunited with Sam, Johan and Avril aboard the Second Wind and got themselves dropped off at the quest markers that popped up while flying over the indicated forest on Dave’s map. They discovered that the ‘gang’ that’d kidnapped Sarah Lucas was an awkward bunch of local boys who had a cubby house in the forest. Little Sarah Lucas had run away from home and was sulkily living in their cubby house. She was cold and hungry so Johan easily talked her into letting us fly her home. Quest done.
The next day, they started with the quest to gather rare herbs from the dangerous swamp. Turns out, the herbs were for a poultice to ward off a rare, magic resistant STI. Hence the quest name; Embarrassing Request. And, the dangerous swamp? Dangerous because of a magical plant monster with a paralytic toxin. Obviously, a paralytic and a swamp at the same time is dangerous but when you can have Johan, who has Tough As Old Boots, jump off from an airship right on top of a quest marker, it really minimises the issue. Dave harvested a few of the plants for study before they left.
The team had hoped that the Ancient Ruins Exploration quest would get exciting but, actually, the ruins were just the ancient remains of some kind of experimental house that was also a work of art. Or, something like that. None of them paid that much attention to researching the quest. The ruins could rearrange themselves and the Magic Society would periodically send someone out to just check that the magics there weren’t arranging themselves into an array and building up any unusual charge. They weren’t. Quest done.
With all the local quests done in only two days, the team flew back to Chaponost at a leisurely pace. Hugh floated the idea of heading back into the city to pick up new quests but agreed with the negative consensus in the end. The team had everything they needed and everyone had a reason to keep a low profile in society, what with Builder cultists after Hugh and Dave and aristocrats after Johan and Avril. Captain Dimont was happy to fly the team back to Chaponost in a large radius around the city, all the while dropping in on any building they passed that looked like it needed the snow pushed off it. Good practice for standing lookout, he said.
Mid afternoon in the cold of the winter and the Second Wind’s altitude, the team arrived in Chaponost. Without fuss they paid for their armour and had a long discussion with James James’ master, who’d come out to see him off out of a sense of professional obligation. He seemed a rough old sort who had treated James badly out of sheer frustration of what else to do. Dave rather pitied the man’s lack of imagination but was still glad to be taking James away from him.
The master seemed happy enough to let James go once Hugh had made promises that James would continue his education and showed that they’d already purchased James some of the more common enchantment manuals. The old bastard was really only afraid for his reputation and didn’t want an apprentice who didn’t progress to journeyman tarnishing his ‘good name’. Dave had plans for that, though. For now though, Dave set James up on board with a workspace and got back in the air. James spent the entire first day aboard looking for what he thought must be the hidden flight mechanisms and going over the minor enchantments on the gas envelope. The entire thing. He checked the entire envelope for enchantment integrity. It took him all day but he seemed happy to do it. Sam kept an eye on him to make sure he didn’t distractedly undo his safety clips and fall.
The team spent another four days aloft just flying around, helping people clear snow from their barns and just getting used to life on board the Second Wind until, under Her guidance, Hugh pointed them to a little village called Domarin where they’d wait for the caravan of Adventure Society aspirants.
“Of course, Johan put the armour on as soon as he could. Started the old-fashioned way until I reminded him about the auto-donning feature. Big mistake.
The chest plate hit him like a battering ram, the gauntlets latched on like bear traps, and the helmet? Oh, the helmet rocketed at his neck. It didn’t just aim for his head—it tried to debride his skull on the way up, scraping like it was removing rust. He was gasping and crying out, but it all happened so fast, none of us knew what to do.
Years later, I met the Forge-Master who made it. By then, I’d figured out the issue: they’d built the auto-donning feature based on the their own measurements. When I pointed that out? They nearly lost it—denied it, insisted it was user error. Nutcase said it with a straight face. Proof that rank doesn’t equate to intelligence.
Anyway, Johan decided to stick with putting the armour on the normal way after that.”
- Excerpt from The Booker Interviews, 2686th year of His Majesty Byzas The Great’s rule.