MidasMan

Fresh off the Google Drive, our story continues! Again, sorry for the delay. Lost of IRL stuff and other project spreading me thin made writing this way harder then it should have been. I'm going to be reevaluating my other works to see if I can make a system a tad more coherent than what I have now.

 

Fingers crossed, there will not be such an insane delay in chapters for the next one. (I hope)

“So it is genuine then?”

“More then that actually: they're pure gold.”

Morrice Lowton cocked his brown and regarded the coins on his desk with a fine eye.

When one looked at the head of the Imperial Eight Finger’s branch, they would be quite surprised by how unassuming Lowton was. An average looking man with disposition more akin to a bank clerk with his thick rimmed glasses and sparse office filled with books and ledgers, then the local head of an international organization like the Eight Fingers. Indeed, he looked more like the people the Eight Fingers brutalized than the ones who lead them.

And to be fair, for a time, that was the situation.

Morrice joined the Eight Fingers after he finished his tenure in the Scribe’s Guild; some thirty years ago. He was taken on as the aid to the personal scribe of the then leader of the Imperial branch. Overtime, Lowton worked his way up the ranks. He never personally partook in the brutality the organization is known for, though he has ordered his fair share of killings. By the time the Bloody Emperor took his throne, he was the personal scribe to the branch’s leader, a rank of some authority, but no clear lines of advancement to any other positions of proper power.

Then the Emperor began his crackdown on the Eight Fingers, doing what the Kingdom had neither the will, not the drive, to do. So many heads and leaders were killed in the purge. Every month it seemed like he was working for a new person. One time the ink had yet to dry on his first letter to the leader before he was informed a new leader had taken his place.

Eventually, there was no one left who could competently run the Imperial branch. His last leader was a wealthy slaver’s third son who had no concept of economics or basic administration who just happened to have enough money on hand to get the position by making grand promises of pay increases.

Increases that never manifested for the vast majority.

Seeing his chance, Lowton did what he did best; he wrote letters.

Within the month, the oaf and his loyalists were dead; and Morrice Lowton had taken control of the Imperial Branch.

Over the last decade he rebuilt the Eight Fingers Imperial assets. He took it upon himself to shift the organization’s focus from primarily narcotics to loans, gambling, slaving, and prostitution. Black dust was very lucrative, but only so much of it got from the plantations in the Kingdom to the Empire. Much better to diversify his assets, than stick to a single commodity that had an irregular supply.

Still, the branch, while lean, ran on razor thin margins. Even a small upset in the flow of money could be disastrous in the short term. The branch had reserves, but not as much as Lowton would have liked.

So, imagine his dismay when one of his creditors comes in with a pouch of seemingly counterfeit gold: gold coins that were minted with the prints of silver and copper coins.

He almost ordered the man killed on the spot. Stupidity was one of the few traits that he had no time for. And if one of his money lenders was so anemic as to fall for a pouch of counterfeit coins with gilded paint on them, what use could have of them?

It was only when Lowton tried to rub the gold ‘paint’ off the coins in question to emphasize his point nothing came off. Even with the later aid of corrosive substances, of increasing acidity, no paint cracked off.

Given the oddity of the situation, he postponed the lender’s execution and called for alchemists to check the validity of the lender’s claims; any further tests with alchemy would just melt the coins at the rate he was going.

A day later, and one of the alchemists had returned with the results of their examinations, with a pair of his most trusted enforces flanking him.

“Pardon, but did you say, ‘pure gold’?” Lowton questioned.

The clerk, red nosed from drink, nodded feverishly. “Yes, Mr. Lowton.”

Lowton had expected by this point that the coins were the result of some new counterfeiting operation by a hitherto unknown group, of exceptional quality if he was honest. Such a quality in fact the, he had half a mind to seek out this group and offer them a preferential agreement with he Eight Fingers. Maybe get them more up to date presses to stop their coins from being mistaken for…well…when Lowton mistook them for.

But pure gold.

“So these coins were alchemically altered then,” Lowton inquired. Not an unheard-of situation. It was time consuming, the reagents and potions costly, requiring an alchemist with possibly decades of experience, and the finished product was only a tenth of the original metal’s mass at the best of times, but it did happen.

“No sir, I mean these coins are ‘pure gold’. As if only gold was used in the minting process,” the clerk elaborated. “I mean, we though the same thing at first. If they were altered after the fact, the pints would have smoothed over or faded. These looked freshly pressed. But when we went to a man with the Mineral Appraisal Talent for a second opinion for how much gold the coins actually held, he couldn’t find anything in these coins that was not gold. On any of them.”

The clerk’s words slowly sunk into Lowton’s head.

There was no such thing as a pure gold coin in circulation. All currency was debased in some way with impurities. Even platinum coins did not hold all that much platinum in them. The only time such coins of pure metal were made were as commemorative gifts or trinkets; medallions or tokens to commemorate something or another. More art that tender.

But if these were pure gold coins, they would be worth many times their apparent value; maybe even three or four gold coins for every one of these coins!

‘But how?’ He wondered.

Lazily playing around with a coin bearing the markings of a copper coin in his fingers, Lowton spun it on its side along the desk; the act seemingly scaring the alchemist before him.

The only things that came to mind was some kind of transmuting spell or Talent. A spell like this, with the seamless results he was looking at, would have to be of the fourth tier at a minimum. Yet he was told by the lender that it was a girl who gave him the gold; a girl far too young to be a caster of such powerful magic.

But a Talent? While he has never heard of a Talent capable of transmuting metals, it would not be the strangest Talent he was aware of.

The coin sputtered to a stop as its spin lost momentum, landing head’s side up.

“Thank you for your work, you may go,” Lowton waved off the clerk.

“Of course sir, thank you sir,” the man scurried out of the room.

Onto the next point of business then.

“Gramm,” Lowton addressed his chief enforcer. “Go down below and tell the men to let Nory out; seems he wasn’t fooled after all.”

“Might disappoint some lads down there, they like a good squealer to work with,” the enforcer joked.

“I trust they will find something else to entertain themselves with in the meantime,” Lowton took off his glasses to clean some dust off the lens. “When you get Nory, make him tell you everything he knows about this girl. What did she look like? What was she wearing? Who was with her? Take him with you if you must. ‘Young blonde’ is hardly descriptive.”

“And when I’m done with him?”

“Cut him loose. Tell Edger to get someone else on Nory’s debters.”

“Got it. So, about the girl. Am I brining her in or…” Gramm trialed off, shrugging with an unspoken implication.

“No,” Lowton answered the question. “She’s far more valuable alive. Bring her in.”

“And if she’s not here anymore?”

“Assume she is here for now until we know for sure.”

“Got it boss,” the big man nodded and walked to the door.

“And be carful not to rough her up too much if she resists; especially her face,” Lowton added just as Gramm’s hand turned the doorknob. “Worse come to worse, she’ll make us gold one way or another.”

“Don’t worry sir, all my boys are gentlemen,” Gramm chuckled to himself as he walked out. Closing the door softly behind him.

Lowton chucked softly at his enforcers humor, then returned to his ledgers. So many things to do, so few hours in the day.

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‘Ah yes, everything seems to but coming along nicely,’ Eva smiled at the work done so far to her Ladyship’s new property. An obfuscating barrier was established to keep the inferior masses of this urban sprawl from interfering with their work. So far, most of the most structural repairs were complete, the lab was being set up properly, and proper furniture fit for her Ladyship was filling the estate.

Everything was coming along splendidly!

Truth be told, this was not really her efforts, but a result of contacting Lord Demiurge for assistance.

Not to ask for the necessary materials, but to inquire as to the proper procedure on how to get said materials to the human city. Despite her own intellect, the requisition of building materials for a property’s general renovation was something Eva was not familiar with. Specifically, who should she contact?

The Treasury?

The Overseer?

Lord Ainz himself?

She refused to embarrass not only herself, but Her Lady, by flailing about like an incompetent.

In her mild panic, Eva remembered that Lord Demiurge owed her Ladyship a favor for allocating several of the alchemists to his Healing Experiment. Surly he would be amiable to, at the minimum, point her in the right direction.

So, she contacted him via message scroll and told him Her Lady’s predicament.

After the brief explanation, The Floor Guardian was ecstatic at the news and promised to bring this to the Overseer’s attention immediately.

He also gleefully informed Eva that this was all part of Lord Ainz’s great plan. That this was one small step in the Supreme One’s grand design and that Lady Citrinitas was merely fulfilling his wishes. He was also amazed that Her Lady had comprehend Lord Ainz’s plans as quickly as he had. Adding that he must redouble his own efforts to not ‘fall behind’ Lady Citrinitas.

While she did not interrupt him, or his ramblings on how obvious everything was in retrospect, she found Lord Demiurge’s assertions to be a tad…fantastical.

Not the Supreme One’s grand plan of course. For his thinking was so far beyond the imagination and scale of any being in existence that she had no doubt that he had planned for even the most minute of events to occur. Like a small ripple in a pond, with each wave a carefully laid out reaction that he had account for. Plans so vast and complex that seemingly minor changes would reverberate across the centuries at least. Truly the work of a being that transcended divinity itself!

No, what Eva was unsure of was his Lordship’s claims that her Lady had known of Lord Ainz’s designs for the world, even if on a basic level, and was acting in accordance with them.

She knew Lady Citrinitas was many things; created with an intellect and aptitude for magic that was second only to the Supreme One’s themselves, an alchemist of the highest caliber capable of crafting and formulating creations that boggled the mind, and beautiful in a way only the Supreme Beings could sculpt into existence.

In the fields she was brilliant in, she was an artist who painted on canvases so vast that even Eva had a hard time grasping the full scale of her work’s scope. Eva held no illusion that on matters of the arcane and magical, only Lord Ainz himself was her superior.

But she also knew that her Ladyship had great difficult in putting on her undergarments or brushing her hair. It was not that her Lady was stupid, not in any stretch of the imagination. Merely that her vast intellect was focused to a very limited number of fields and activities.

And beyond these fields, her competence was of a less than ‘average’ standard.

Was Eva sure that Lord Ainz supreme plans considered Lady Citrinitas’s actions in this human city, absolutely.

Did she think Lady Citrinitas was working towards a goal with the knowledge of these grand plans, absolutely not.

Lady Citrinitas was working for the betterment of Nazarick in this city, that much was true, just not under the auspices of following some grand scheme she gleamed from the Supreme Being.

Not that she was ever going to tell that to Lord Demiurge. Eva neither confirmed, nor denied, Demiurge’s assertions. If a Floor Guardian, who was not Bloodfallen, wished to praise her mistress she would not intervene. The worst possible thing that could happen was Lord Demiurge being humbled sometime in the future for his overactive thinking and constant need to find points of action and reaction where none exist.

But to her own dismay, Eva had another issue to deal with. An issue far more immediate in nature.

“Why aren’t they working.”

Eva glared at the menial homunculi lazing about under a recently planted tree. Instead of working on Her Lady’s new domicile, the maids appeared more concerned with staring up at the clouds or chatting amongst themselves. The other workers, a mixture of different insectoid looking individuals who did the heavy lifting and bulk of the physical labor, stood about waiting for instructions to continue.

Instructions that should be coming from the maids.

“We’re waiting,” Fith, the blonde homunculi that Eva has had the displeasure of acquainting herself with, replied. The maid spared only a side glance to Eva as she noted something down on a clipboard.

“For?” Eva asked.

“Supplies,” Fith’s companion, Foss, answered. She gestured to an empty space beside the short wall around the estate, “We used the last of our materials last night. We have sent word to Lady Albedo a few minutes ago to allow additional resources from the treasury to be used. All we can do is wait for them to arrive.”

“So, you didn’t bring enough in the first place?” Eva frowned.

“We were given the amount for the restoration that was based off of your descriptions of the property,” Fith countered.

“Amounts that your requested after I showed you across the grounds,” the alchemist deflected. “You said two days.”

“A tour where you failed to mention the large underground holding pens beneath both of the primary buildings. Do you understand how much stone and wood is needed to refurbish them to acceptable standards? And yes, I did say two days, when I believed you had showed us everything that needed refurbishment.”

Eva bit her lip. “Why was I not informed about this immediately?”

“Do you not recall,” Fith smirked. “When you gathered Floire, Foss, and myself together and told us, in no uncertain terms, that we were not to bore you with ‘trivial matters’.”

“We were even threatened,” Floire added.

“We feared for our lives,” Foss joined her sisters. “Quaking in fear at what horror would be inflicted upon ourselves by the hivemind if we dared disobey.”

Eva tasted blood on her tongue as she bit harder into her lip at the snickering between them.

“The Hivemind”. A Tomb urban legend shared amongst the throngs of serviles. It was the absurd belief that Eva and her sisters were some collective consciousness with no individuality of their own. It took the fact that all the alchemist homunculi had the same appearance, had the same tone of voice, held the same likes and dislikes, and collectively held the same views on the world, that they must one mind spread across many bodies.

The story goes that any homunculi maid that dared challenge the hivemind would find themselves taken in the dark of night and ‘absorbed’ into the collective consciousness. Their bodies altered and changed to look like them.

Of course, she’d be lying if the thought of dragging one of these insolent girls down into the depths of the Laboratory for ‘improvement’ never crossed her mind.

But this was foolish story held by the ignorant who failed to understand that, while all stood equally beneath the Supreme Ones, some were created more equal than others.

Afterall, why was Fith and her cohort relegated to menial labor while Eva and her sisters given tasks of actual importance? While the maids cleaned rooms and dusted old furniture, Eva and her sisters aided the Supreme Ones on their glorious conquests beyond the Tomb with alchemical creations the likes of which these girls could only dream of. Eva worked with poisons of such potency that they could even harm the Supreme Ones; as incomprehensible as it might seem. She’s seen the glorious creators eagerly flood Her Lady’s labs for tools and useful goods.

At best, Fith’s kind worked with soap that removed smudges on dinner plates.

Clearly, one group was given more work of actual importance than the other.

Not that any task given by the Supreme Ones lacked importance. But some tasks required less skill than others.

Skills that Eva and her like were granted upon their creation.

Even now, with a single flick of her wrist, Eva could kill the trio with little effort. A telekinetic blast could easily snap their necks from her current distance. Or a trio of [Magic Arrows] could pierce their skulls in short order. The only reason she did not was the fear of reprisal from Pestonya. The head maid was very open about her dislike for Eva and her sisters. “Brutish” was thrown around quite a bit if Eva recalled right.

And while she could easily resurrect her dead underlings with her powerful healing magic, the bitch would no doubt take her wrath out on Eva for harming the serviles beneath her.

Only swift intervention by Lady Citrinitas would save her at that point.

So, Eva will not lower herself to their level.

She was the better person after all.

In every way that mattered.

“Then how long is it going to be?” Eva demanded, having calmed a bit of her anger.

“Once we get the supplies it should just be a eight hours at most to finish,” Fith still refused to meet Eva’s gave, doodling about on her clipboard.

“So your just going to do nothing until then?”

Fith sighed, “we’ve done everything we can do for the moment. Everything that we could fix, has been fixed. Look I can keep repeating myself over and over until it finally gets through that thick skull of yours that-”

“What about the hole in the lawn?” Eva interrupted.

“What hole?” the maid looked up from her clipboard for the first time and glanced across the immaculately cut lawn. “Are you daft or just-“

Before the maid could question Eva, a patch of the lawn exploded near her feet. Soil shot meters into the air and showered across the immediate area. The Floss and Floire jumped at the sound as Fith scrambled backwards from the blast zone. The explosion left a meter deep hole in the ground.

“That one,” Eve noted, a magic circle emanating from her hand. “Perhaps if you weren’t so preoccupied you would have noticed it.”

Fith looked at the hole, then to Eva. Eyes searing her glare into the alchemist’s head.

“You damn-“

“Now I must go and report this delay to her Ladyship,” Eva walked back to the estate, feeling the glares in the back of her head; workers giving her a wide berth as she walked. “Do try too not let such mistakes happen again.”

She could feel a satisfied smile curl onto her lips as she readied a message scroll.

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I have to say, there was something cathartic about watching magic happen. Like watching clouds go by on a breezy day. Or watching the sky change colors as the sun dipped beneath the horizon at dusk.

It was something that you could gawk at for hours and it would never lose its appeal.

That goes for even the most seemingly mundane magic, like transmutation.

For the past half hour, I had been sitting on one of the couches my room has watching the various bits and bobs I found ‘change’ before me. Over the past couple of days, I had spent most of my waking hours touring Arwintar. I had spent years either standing in place or walking between a small number of rooms, it was impossible to describe how liberating being able to simply walk where I wanted to go was for me.

Now originally, I had slatted the few days before Eva got my new home all set up as ‘No Overlord’ days. I was not going to think about Skeletor or his league of evil. Nope. Not a single thought was to be spared. After years of being a literal statuesque slave of that place, I deserved a break from all that bullshit.

I was going on Holiday and enjoying the best this late medieval-early renaissance city had to offer!

Sadly, my curiosity got the better of me.

Laid out across the table in front of me was an assortment of useless junk. Nails, rusty screws, a spoon that had a hole in it that rendered the thing useless.

Hand outstretched, I cast [Transmute] on the collection of rubbish. A prismatic light covered them. Moments later, the glow faded, and the formerly useless junk was now gilded junk.

It was now all gold.

But that was not where I was going to stop.

Again, I cast [Transmute].

Again, a glow encompassed the junk. And again, as the glow dissipated, what emerged was more valuable when what it had been mere seconds ago. No longer gold, but pure adamantite; one of the most valuable metals in this world. Easily worth twice its weight in gold. It was not just a metal, but a status symbol. It was the rank for the highest rank of adventurers. An entire fortune could be spent acquiring just a small amount of the stuff.

And I had just made several pounds of the stuff over the course of a minute or two out of loose screws and nails I found on the street.

‘Meaning my transmutation isn’t just limited to small coins,’ I mused as I inspected the spoon. Interestingly, not only had the spoon changed its metal type, but all the rust that had once been on it was also gone. It shone like it had been freshly polished for display in some store rather than a spoon I found in some alleyway.

Same when for the screws and nails. Any impurity or degradation had been wiped clean in the transmutation process.

‘But still, how much more….?’

[Transmute].

The spoon in my hand glowed.

Again, the spoon was engulfed in a bright light. Unlike the other times, the light did not dim or vanish, but remained steady. Unlike the other transmutations, going from any metal to a prismatic one takes time relative to how much is being converted.

In this case, that small spoon should take about four and twenty minutes or so.

Why do I have such a specific time?

Well…..

With a dumb smile on my face, I looked at another spoon on the table, it shone a milky white hue that rippled under sun light. It was a spoon I made into pure star silver over the evening.

In fact, this spoon in particular is actually what got me going on transmuting all this junk.

It happened when I was eating at a self-described ‘high end’ restaurant the other day. I do not remember the name; not important either. Personally, I think it was just ‘above average’. Service was great, cute girls in cute outfits, but the food could have been better. If I was-

Damnit, the restaurant was not important!

The important thing is that I ordered a pudding desert that my limited to nonexistent grasp of the language said came with a complimentary silver spoon. Gimmicky sales pitch for sure. But I thought ‘hey it’s the most expensive thing on the menu, why not’. So, imagine my surprise when I get the desert and there was no silver spoon!

Oh, they gave me a spoon. It looked shiny, and it had a metallic silvery appearance, but I thought it looked off for something made of silver. Its shine was a bit too dull to be made of precious metal. So, I cast [Mineral Value] on it and low and behold, it was not silver! At best, the thing was only twenty-two percent silver! The rest was iron or copper or some other stuff I did not really care about. This was false marketing!

Miffed, I lamented how I had been tricked into a non-silver spoon. And for whatever reason, my mind unconsciously transmuted the ‘silver’ spoon into a proper silver spoon. I only noticed what I did when I was sulking about wasting all that sliver on this spoon and noticing the change in its shine as the sun reflected off it.

Thankfully, no one noticed the glow normally associated with my Transmuting spell.

As I finished my desert, silver spoon in hand, a thought crossed my mind: how far could my transmuting go?

And thus I am now the proud owner of several platinum coins, mithril nails, an adamantite fork, and a myriad of other bits and bobs I collected off the side of the street and altered. One person’s trash is another’s testing materials!

During my little experiments did learn a few interesting things regarding my transmutation spell. Like how I could not just transmute a base metal into a prismatic one; it has to go up the chain. For example: no copper to celestial uranium. It had to first be changed into an ‘intermediate level of mineral’ like silver or gold, then transmuted into an ‘advanced ore’ like adamantite or mithril, and then it could be changed into a proper prismatic ore.

I also discovered a few other tidbits. Such as the amount of mana per transmutation grew as I ascend higher in metal quality and from the amount of metal being transmuted. Add in a bunch of other minor things I picked up, and I could feel that I was getting a better grasp of what I could do in this body.

Still had no idea about the really crazy magic I just felt I could do. Neither had I made any progress on finding new spells the old-fashioned way ala ‘speaking aloud phrases I thought could be spells until something happens’. Of course, that was mostly because I didn’t want to accidentally destroy a city block by trying some crazy phrases that were rumbling about in my head. Unlike the Tomb, this Inn, no this CITY, was probably not built to withstand crazy magical bullshit.

Speaking of city…

“Mya what time is it?” I casual ask without looking up from my collection of junk turned treasure.

“It is almost midday, My Lady,” the homunculi dutifully replied from her corner of the room.

‘Excellent!’ I quickly got up from the sofa and made my way to the bed where my cape, hat, and sheathed weapon were laid out.

“Then, I’m heading out,” I told Mya while gathering up the pieces of apparel and fastening my weapon to my hip. “Keep an eye on the spoon Mya. If the transmuting ends before I get back, I want you to note how much shorter it was from the other one I did.”

“Of course, My Lady,” she replied. “But are you-“

“Yes, I’m fine,” I cut her off while rushing to the door. “I’m not a child Mya, I am more than capable of taking care of myself for a few hours. Like I did yesterday.”

I finally put my foot down with all the nannying nonsense Mya was up to. The whole point of this excursion was to be by myself. Or at the very least, away from Nazarick NPCs. No Tomb. No Skelletor. No sycophantic monsters. Just me, and any companions/acquaintances I ran into whose company I enjoyed. I was trying to get away from monsters after all, not become a hermit in the middle of nowhere.

True, I did ask for aid from the Tomb for my home, but that is an exception. I was using the Tomb to my own ends! There resources were being used to fulfill my designs!

Besides, it was not like I was exploring Arwintar alone.

I could hear Mya let out an exaggerated sigh. “Of course, My Lady. Forgive my presumptions.”

“It’s fine Mya,” I waved off her apologies. One of these days I got to get these girls, both Mya and her ‘sisters’ to stop with the constant submissiveness and deferments. Order them to get a backbone even. I know just the type of people who would abuse girls like them if given the chance. “I’ll send you a message if I need anything.”

“Of course, My Lady.”

With one last parting wave, I dove out of the room and made my way down the stairs.

I noticed that the bar was empty. None of team Foresight were there I mean, just the barkeep reading some book.

I remember that Arche told me that Roberdyck does charity work during the day, healing the sick for free type of stuff and comes in more towards the late afternoon. And I knew that Hekkeran and Imina were still in their room; probably sleeping late after having exhausted themselves in their nocturnal activities.

‘Thank God for noise canceling scrolls.’

On the plus side, it is nice to know they have a healthy relationship…..if loud.

I gave the barkeep a quick wave as I strolled onto the main street and made my way to my destination.

Ever since I helped her out with the loan shark, Arche was insistent on being my guide around Arwintar for the duration of my stay. For the past two days, we met up around a fountain ten minutes from the Inn and she would just explore the city with me.

Maybe she felt like she owed me something? Maybe she was just being nice to the rich girl who paid off her parents’ debts? By any normal standards I did drop a lot of money to help a stranger. Of course, I was not going to complain!

The whole point of getting away from the Tomb was to interact with real humans for the first time in years. So of course, I jumped at the chance to hang out with a ‘normal’ person. As normal as a mage in a fantasy world can be, I guess. Regardless I was thrilled!

While she had that ‘doll’ like appearance going on, she was honestly a cool person to hang out with. She was also good conversational partner; though I felt like I was doing most of the talking and she was just nodding along. When she did talk, it was always to add something insightful or make a witty remark.

Though I will say that there were two topics that came up that made me feel a tad awkward.

The first one was my fault.

I had been asking her about what life was like at the Imperial Academy, subconsciously trying to not draw comparisons or similarities to the ‘magical school tropes’ in my head, and she asked me how my magical schooling was in comparison.

Kind of a difficult question to answer given I never had an education. Everything I know about magic was crammed into my skull in a video game world and now mostly works on muscle memory.

So, I was mentally kicking myself for the better part of an hour because, in all the time I had to make my “Lilly” persona, I never once gave a thought to HOW she achieved her ‘secret’ fifth tier magic capabilities. Oh, I could go on and on about some locations I had “been” to, such as the city of Gondor, or talk about my ‘parents’, but I seemingly forgot to thing of how I knew magic!

I’ll probably come up with something cool sounding, and plausible, in the future.

For the moment thought, I tried to wave it off by telling her that it was ‘different’ then her’s; lot of one-on-one training, generally small classes/collections of students, not committing to any real specifics.

I don’t think she bought it for a second. But she did not press me on it, thankfully. I know she must have used her magic eye talent thing on me at least once. She has not brought it up yet, maybe wanting not to pry into my personal life, which gives me some more time to think of a realistic reason why I am so overpowered.

The other awkward topic was simultaneously banal, yet cut deeper than anything I had experienced so far in this world.

We were walking by some grand plaza looking place, we crossed paths with a bunch of girls swooning over a couple of armored soldiers on patrol; giggles, whispers, blushes, and all. Arche groaned and rolled her eyes at the sight, commenting something along the lines of not understanding the overblown theatrics “girls our age” did for men they barely knew. That simple phrase honestly hit harder than it should have.

“Girls our age”.

I was not a “girl”. Despite my current appearance, and the time I spent like this, I still firmly identified in as a man and was actively trying to correct the biological ‘issue’ via magic. I may be a bit off mentally due to all the time I spent as a literal doll, but I have yet to find any instance of my body changing my mindset in terms of sexual attraction. My eye was still drawn to women and only women.

Then there was the “our age” bit. While I might not know my actual age anymore, I knew I was older than Arche, who was sixteen. Seventeen next month, I remember her mentioning. But me? I must be at least in my thirties, given I remember being in my mid to late-twenties before being trapped in this body, and Yggdrasil ran for over a decade.

In short, that one phrase remined me that even if my body was my own again, it was not my body. Honestly, a lot of the minor things from my life before hand were a bit of a blur now. I still remember my parents, my hometown, my dog, what college I went to just before I was changed, all the important stuff. But other stuff was just a haze. The thought that the haziness might expand to my other memories was very much on my mind.

Even more reason to fix myself sooner than later.

As I maneuvered myself through the crowds, apologizing as I bounched against people, a telltale tingling in the back of my head made me groan.

“Forgive me My Lady.”

I held in a groan, ducking into a nearby alleyway to properly talk over the Message. “What is it Mya?”

“Pardon My Lady, but I am Eva.”

“Oh geez, sorry,” I quickly apologized. “No offense, but you all sound the same.”

“It is not a problem, My Lady,” she noted. “The fault lies with me for not properly identifying myself. I apologize for any confusion I may have caused you. No matter how momentary.”

“So, is the home ready?” I dropped the issue rather than point out how insulting it was to say all the homunculi alchemists sounded the same. What the hell was I thinking?

“Not exactly My Lady, there seem to have been a few complications. It would seem the homunculi maids failed to consider some aspects of the property before they requisitioned supplies….”

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‘She’s late,’ Arche noted.

She tapped her foot. Counting the seconds off in her head while she waited.

‘She’s never late,’ she mused at her…what was Lilly to her anyway?

Acquaintance?

Friend?

Could you even make a friend in two days?

When her family still had its titles and privileges, she had peers; an informal relationship that was less than acquaintanceship, but still there. In the Academy, she had colleagues; fellow students who she worked with day in and out in pursuit of knowledge and an education. Team Foresight were her friends; comrades in arms that she’d trust to have her back in the most dangerous of situations.

But Lilly?

She has only known the girl for a couple of days. Lilly was a noble, a foreigner, a girl who could run her mouth for hours if you let her. Their personalities were almost on completely opposite ends of the spectrum; Lilly being outgoing and flamboyant, while Arche was quite and reserved.

Lilly was smart, Arche did not doubt that for a moment. She was also fun to be with.

Arche had first thought she asked to be the traveler’s guide to the city as a silent form of repayment. Her pride, a left over from her days as a noble, would not simply let her not repay someone who aided her. A simple tour guide, of course, would not be enough. She had planned on helping the foreigner acclimate to the city’s high society should the blonde wish to interact with it.

But were they friends? It was a question that had been rattling in the back of her mind since she woke up and let slip to her sisters that she was going out to meet a ‘friend’ today.

Was that presumptuous of her to think that? The girl was very open and friendly with her and seemed to enjoy her company as much as Arche did her’s.

It was comforting in a way to have someone her own age to talk to. Maybe it was petty of her, but Arche always wished that the other members of Foresight were closer to her demographic. Roberdyck, kindhearted as he is, was in his thirties. As was Imina; though the half elf was a tad cagy on her age. The closest person to her age wise was Hekkeron, and he was almost half a decade older than her. Even her own sisters, sweet as they are, were far too young to really understand her or the world around them. And when she was in school, she never really made friends with her fellow students; always too focused on her work to socialize.

It felt petty and stupid, but Arche wished that she had friends in her own age group to interact with. And as far as her brain was concerned; that was Lilly.

Then again, perhaps in Lilly’s native culture friendship was something that took more time to grow? Or maybe simple openness was more common in acquaintanceships and Arche was just over thinking this whole situation-

“Miss. Furt!”

Arche’s train of thought was broken from that familiar voice. She twitched from her seat on the fountain’s edge as she ran through the reasons why she would be hearing from him again.

Or more likely, so soon.

She hissed a swear to herself and looked at the source, “What do you want. You were already-“

Arche was confident that she could hide her scowl and utter disgust from the money lender. She’s dealt with him more than enough to stomach being near him, even if surprised. What she was not good at, it seemed, was hiding her shock at his current appearance.

Gone was the man who seemingly oozed sliminess and deceit, whose greedy eyes who saw piles of gold and debt where people stood. In his place stood a physically broken, and hangered man. His face was covered in fresh cuts and bruises. Some were obscured by makeup, mostly on his face and the black and blues around his eyes. Red marks ringed around his neck, and the top bits of his ears looked like they had been sliced off.

“Gods. What happened to you?“ the words unconsciously came out.

“Where’s your friend?” He bluntly ignored her question. His frame looked jittery. Blood shot eyes stared her down. “Well?”

“Who are you-“

“The blonde noble girl from before,” he interrupted her again. These were less questions and more demands. “Do you know where she is?” He gestured to her with one of his hands, the other was in his pockets, an attempt to hide his arm shaking uncontrollably.

‘Noble girl…. Lilly,’ Arche bit her lip as the pieces fell into place. She just knew something like this might happen.

“Look, if this is about my parents’ debt, just give me the amount and I’ll pay it off as soon as I can,” she told him. “She isn’t involved in this so there’s no need to harass her about this.”

“I’ll give em a hundred gold credit,” he told her.

“What?”

“Your leech parents, I’ll waive the next hundred gold they take from me,” he elaborated. “Just tell me where she is.”

“This has nothing to do with her-“

“Three hundred,” the man interrupted her again. “Just tell me.”

‘What the hell is going on,’ Arche thought at the lender’s words. Something was not right. The way he looked, the way he was acting.

“Seven hundred, a thousand, just tell me!” He closed the distance between them and grabbed her shoulder. “Tell me!”

The eyes of all the people were on them now. Soft muttering echoed as people observed the lender’s bizarre actions. Children hid behind their parents as the man continued his maddened speech.

“Let go of me!” Arche batted his hand away.

“Is she making you gold! So stop being so greedy and give me some! Don’t you realize some people need it more than you do!” He ranted, seemingly beyond reasoning now.

“I’m warning you, back off,” the magic caster raised a magically charged hand at the deranged man. Yet as she stared him down, the eyes of the whole square on them, some of his words rang in her head. ‘Is she making you gold…what is he talking about?’

“Why do you even care if I get a few thousand coins!” he ignored her threat, becoming more unhinged with each word he spoke. “She can just make you more! Stop being so GREEDY! Do you have any idea what the fuck I went through because of HER! DO YOU! SO STOP BEING GREEDY AND TELL ME WHERE THAT FUCKING BITCH-“

He never finished. In his ranting, Arche had been charging up [Shock Hand]. The second-tier spell leapt from her fingertips and arced into him with all the force she could give it.

The lender let out a cry of pain as the electric spell danced across his frame. Onlookers gasped as the man crumpled to the ground under his own weight, watching him twitch wildly as his muscles spasmed out of control. Even in this state, he still tried to talk, make demands, but all that spewed froth was guttural sounds as his lips and tongue failed to form the words he wished to say.

After half a minute, the twitching stopped. She could see him breathing heavily on the ground, so at least he was still alive.

“What in the Gods name is going on here!”

From the crowd, a trio of imperial knights emerged and rushed towards Arche and the downed lender.

“I can explain. He-”

“Don’t worry about this kid,” one of the knights called out to Arche as the other two went to the lender. “We heard him from across the block. Actually, we were on our way to….well do that,” he motioned to the man on the ground. “Disturbing the peace and all. Do you have any idea what that all was about?”

“I don’t know,” she lied, not wanting to bring up the awkward questions of why she was acquainted with an Eight Fingers member; watching as they tied his hands and lifted him up. “He just came up to me and started demanding I pay him money. Then he started demanding I get my friend to pay-“

‘Lilly!’ she stopped short and looked around, realizing once again, that the blonde was nowhere in sight.

The blonde with a lot of money who an Eight Fingers member was demanding by name.

The blonde who stuck her own neck out for Arche’s sake for no other reason that simple kindness.

The blonde who was not here……

“What’s wrong?” the knight asked, seeing her get upset.

“My friend, she’s not here. I’m sorry but I have to go,” with that, she silently cast [Fly] on herself and launched herself into the sky; ignoring the calls for explanation that came from the knights below.

What she was doing was very illegal right now. Using [Fly] or any enchanted item that gave the same effect, without permission by the local garrison, came with a heavy fine; she learned as much from her time in the Imperial Magic Academy. But when put next to the cost of a life from searching the city by foot, it seemed like a pittance.

In a city as large as Arwintar, it was simply impossible to find a single person in the vast sea of people. Under normal circumstances, it was akin to finding a needle in an ever-shifting haystack.

But these were not normal circumstances. And both she and Lilly were not normal people.

With the wind bellowing in her face, she took a deep breath and manifested her All Seeing Eyes. Even under the bright midday sun, the world around her dimmed; like a dark cloud was blocking the sun in every direction.

But to her eyes, two lights stood out amidst the dimness. One, came from the Imperial Palace. The other, came from the direction of the Sleepy Apple.

Knowing time was off the essence, she flew off.

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“Look it’s fine,” I tried, in vain, to console Eva. “I can wait a few more hours. It’s no big deal.”

“And I promise you, My Lady, that I shall do everything in my power to ensure that delay of this sort shall never inconvenience you again.”

From the way she was talking, you would think Eva just told me my house had burned down; not that it was going to be a few more hours before I could move in. I leaned my head back against the bricks of the alleyway, trying not to groan at her mellow dramatics.

“It’s fine,” I repeated for the umpteenth time. “I’ll come over later and see how everything is in person.”

“I shall ensure everything is prepared for your arrival.”

“Thank you,” was all I could reply, lacking anything else to say. “I need to go now, check in with Mya and give her an update on the renovations as well.”

“As you say, My Lady.”

With the connection cut, I let out an audible groan. I rubbed the ridge between my eyes in frustration.

“One of these days I got to teach all of them to not be so uptight all the time,” I mumbled to myself.

“I wouldn’t bother, most people tend to be too stupid to learn anything new. Gods know I’ve tried.”

The new voice bought me out of my head and made me quickly gather my thoughts. I looked around to the ends of the alleyway, groups of men blocked off both avenues of escape by foot. They weren’t armed, but a few of them were holding a collection of ropes, assorted bindings, and black cloth.

‘Are you fucking kidding me.’

One man, the leader and the origin of the voice, stood in front of the men on one side of the alley. Unlike his, I assume, cronies he did not look like some stereotypical brute. He wore a plain black suit more appropriate for an office job then a thug. His blonde hair nicely combed back. The posture he had gave off a sense that he felt he was the one in control of the situation.

The man gave me an acknowledging nod before addressing me further.

“Apologies my Lady,” he began, his voice bouncing off the sides of the alley. “But I’m afraid you have to come with us. A very powerful man wishes to meet with you. If you would follow me.”

As he spoke, only one thought ran through my head.

‘God damn it not again!’