After he’d blown Taiko and Tzo’s minds again, Justin finally wised the damn freaking hell up – or a little more, anyways - and repeated to them everything he could remember of what the Dawn had told him. And his observations about how the god had been leading him to more closely examine and investigate some options by mentioning them, or tangentially related things in passing, too.
His ongoing policy that it was still imprudent to tell them about the first major step on the path to his ultimate objective was no reason to keep hoarding the information he could share. And the fact that the Dawn hadn’t alluded to that step in the slightest, as far he could recognize, felt like inverse confirmation from the god that he should be more open with them.
So then, once the two of them had that information to mull over, Justin took a few minutes to write out some hasty-but-accurate transcriptions of the Contract’s original list of option for them also. He couldn’t have taken that chance back on Earth; the risk was far too great. Here and now though, after he’d signed the Contract? Not taking advantage of his two closest advisors wits was self-sabotaging stupidity.
He didn’t transcribe his predecessor’s note, though. As much as he trusted these two, the prospect of youthful, healthful immortality was the kind of temptation that could break anybody. That was one more secret he was keeping from everyone.
It was too bad the Prompo’s [Better] enhancement didn’t work on intellectual, abstract efforts, as he’d found out in his pre-fight testing and familiarization; only physical ones. And of course his own physical capacities limited the amount of improvement it could provide. With the limited time and means he’d had to check, he put that at somewhere over a thousand times normal. He had a suspicion that it was right around thirty-one hundred, five exponents of five.
Yes, even a three thousand times improvement to his own wits would have been the next best thing to a Push To Win button. But he could hardly call the Prompo disappointing, in light of what it could and did do, and between himself, Taiko, and Tzo, they stacked the deck for his next Minor Wish as far as they all thought was presently possible.
It was probably overkill, but there was no good reason not to do the best job of something that you could, if you had the time to take the pains for it. Justin’s father had taught him that, in both word and repeated deed.
Taiko’s verging-on-innocent query of “Then what can enhance a Minor Wish, Brother?” before he’d passed those transcripts over had gotten the man a full-on hug in return, partly because of the sense of confident confirmation it had given Justin. Taiko picking up the same potential hint in the Dawn’s curious event in the night-time insistence about how Minor Wishes were not allowed to enhance each other was a great relief to him. If Taiko also thought there was a tacit implication there that other means could affect Minor Wishes, Justin felt a lot better about the prospect.
Taiko then noticing the same thing Justin had from the beginning - that out of all the Blessings, only Sun specifically listed mana, residual mana, as a factor in its functioning – only enhanced that sense of confirmation.
“So - Mana Water and a high-mana environment, such as that a nearby a Mana Well would provide?” Tzo mused. Justin had shaken his head, tapping the relevant entry on the scroll between them.
“I don’t think the Mana Well would help,” he said. “See here? ‘Make the use of magic less tiring,’ and ‘casting spells will be less tiring’. As for the recharge aspect, it’s possible the Mana Water, in the sense of its time limit on multiple uses, might qualify as a enchanted item for that, but I don’t see any way that would help in the short term.”
“I must agree,” Tzo said. “And the Magic Fountain’s ‘heightens existing magical effects’ language suggests to me that instant effects, as per your reported Wishing experience on the dock, would likewise not qualify for its benefits in terms of granting you power.”
“That’s my interpretation,” Justin said. “It feels like a coin toss at best. I’ll still try it, of course, but now I’m wi- aha, wanting, dammit! - that the Library on the Chloe, and particularly the magic grimoires, were available to us. Entries on wishing magic or rituals or enchantments or any other ways to enhance them would be a help. Ah, well; what can’t be cured must be endured.”
Taiko perked up and pulled his scroll and charcoal pencil out of his blankets.
Justin looked at the neatly folded robes set out of the way by one wall, then back to the blanket-wrapped - and presumably nude beneath those - old monk.
“Oh good grief Taiko,” Justin complained, followed by a couple of loud claps from outside the door. Tzo stacked the sheets they had been consulting, pulled up a corner of Taiko’s lowest futon, and tucked them underneath before calling, ‘Come in!”
Obu’s two assistants bustled inside, one carrying a tray of bowls and utensils in one hand and the handle of a large teapots in the other. His companion had brought two small, steaming, covered buckets. Justin could smell fish, vegetables, spices, tea, and something else familiar he couldn’t identify. The aromas seemed to shoot straight from his nose to his stomach, and the latter’s emptiness reached up to grab his salivary glands and give them a good hard tug.
The something else turned out to be short, thin noodles, which had been sitting in the fish-and-leafy-greens broth in one bucket so long that they had absorbed almost all of it. The other bucket had the vegetables, in stacked steamer baskets. One contained pale orangish roots that branched repeatedly below their lower halves; the uppers were cut into thick slices, while the lower, thinner branches were simply cut or snapped apart from each other. Another held broken spikes from a purplish head of fractal buds like romanesco broccoli, and the third had finger-length brown pea pods, small orbs pressed together like strands of beads. Under those were two baskets of black to dark blue rice-like grains.
Obu’s assistants neatly served them all with chopsticks, bowls of noodles, white fish pieces, and dark greens, set the steamer baskets out between them all next to the teapot, and exited again.
“What’re all these called?” Justin asked, waving a finger across the spread.
“There are politer names for it, but noodles served this way are commonly called slop,” Tzo said, transferring several pieces of each of the vegetable to his own bowl of the stuff. “This is whitefish slop; that’s ginjo root, star buds, and those are egg peas.”
Justin had practiced with chopsticks before he left, guessing that they might go along with the asian theme of the line drawing of Ribe in the Contract, so he didn’t embarrass himself when he dipped them into his own bowl and picked out a mouthful of noodles. It was easier than he’d thought it would be; the long soak had caused the noodle starch to thicken everything in the slop into a sticky mass. It had also made the noodles very tasty; the broth base was excellent, savory and rich, and had migrated into them completely. The fish was flaky and mild, and the bitterness had been almost completely cooked out of the greens.
Ginjo was crunchy like carrots, but also spicy like ginger, while star buds were surprisingly soft and sweet for their appearance, closer to brussels sprouts than anything else. The peas themselves were yellow inside the pods, like yolks, firm but less crunchy than ginjo, with an earthy, almost sour flavor.
“Thanks for arranging this, Tzo,” Justin said. “I would have kept forgetting or putting it off until it hurt.” The advocate nodded, his mouth full. He chewed, swallowed, moistened his throat with a sip of tea, and said, “We’ll visit the Palace another day. It’s not going anywhere.”
“Pork soup dumplings,” Justin said, and Tzo grinned at him. “Theirs are excellent,” the advocate said, “and not to be missed, but their eel puffs are outstanding. It’s not a proper meal there without an order or three.”
# # #
“All right! Everybody ready?” Justin said, from the center of the ritual circle inscribed on the stage of the Right’s multi-hundred seat Theater. Technically, the Ballroom on the Chloe should have the best acoustics, complementing its shaped multi-level orchestra platform. But since they were using the built-in speaker system for this, and the music’s addition to the whole was probably no more than a few percents improvement at best, the Theater’s concert acoustics would serve just as well. Not to mention how the Chloe was currently sailing back and forth between Ribe’s southern shipbuilding docks and the Drops out in the open Toh to the north, and thus the Ballroom wasn’t easily available to them.
Nor was the Chloe’s Library, which was what really stung. But they’d piled on - and up - everything else they could from what was available aboard the Right. Including all the fallbacks from Justin’s excruciating preparations before he’d left, and everybody with a say agreed that they’d put together an exceptional assembly of resources.
As the selected troopers sounded off, Justin cast his mind back over one last check of the past hour or so of preparation. There wasn’t much for him to do himself before the climax except be a good, quiet, receptive target of everyone else’s efforts.
As Justin had half-feared, half-anticipated, his Shop-supplied Spellcraft knowledge had given him only the most basic of spell casting skills. He had the minimum necessary for him to be able to test his crafted spells at a graduate, or journeyman level. Had he grown up in this world, that would have been the point in his career when he would first be capable of selling his abilities on his own, as an independent professional, without a School or Master’s support. He had been given that much spell casting expertise, and nothing more.
He could craft spells that were improved, degraded, and altered in multiple other ways, as well as create new ones. Those ranged in originality from the smallest variations on existing examples, to wholly unfamiliar models drawn from his Earth experiences listening to Derek, Carla, and the rest of Chloe’s friends nerd out around the gaming or dining table.
Alchemy was great; the prospect of combining the more artistic selection of components with the precise mathematics of balancing them all was hugely appealing. But after he’d burned through the common tendency of adults new to the RPG hobby to play characters contrary to their daily lives – in his case, barbarians, berserkers, and other battle-maniacs – he’d moved on to spellcasters. And stuck there. He’d been exposed to far too much tragic stupidity as a criminal defense attorney to ever want to pretend to be a thief, or worse.
Spellcrafting, both on its own, and as a means to spellcasting, was where – outside The Plan - the most personal attraction for him was in all this. Word magic flavor ice cream? Two scoops please!
That was fine by him. Ougo had eight competent magician-specialists in his company, one each assigned to the six eighteen-troop squads, plus a seventh in Ougo’s command squad, plus the man himself. They could do all the actual casting, which let Justin leverage the Spellcrafting knowledge he did have through them.
And thus they were now within the ritual space they’d laid out in cordage and paint on the Right’s stage: Justin in the center; Taiko, Ougo, and the chief caster in a triangular formation around him, and five more casters at the elemental points around that. Justin had given some thought to taking advantage of the stage’s platforming abilities when designing the ritual, but Ougo had quickly and efficiently argued him out of that. Along with his other ideas about using the overhead lighting for illuminated sigils and area boundaries instead of the standard painted or rope ones.
Prominence – Ougo had explained politely, but firmly, you’re already combining one amplifying ritual with one technically degrading ritual to take possible advantage of an untested material component’s heightening factor. That’s one too many variables already. I would not gild that blade any further, lest it blind me in combat.
Justin had nodded, thinking Keep It Simple, Stupid to himself. Out loud he’d said, “You’re entirely right, Captain. We’ll do as you advise.”
The last of the troopers called, “Ready, Prominence!” and Justin waved his hand over his head in agreement for Tzo in the control booth up against the back wall, in the center of the half-circle of overhead boxes. Taiko, standing at one of the nine music stands they’d repurposed from the orchestra pit, cleared his throat, and made the final go-ahead gesture. A moment later, Tzo’s voice came from the speakers overhead: “We shall begin. Music in five, four, three, two. . . .”
As the opening meows of Deodato’s jazzed-up cover of Also Sprach Zarathustra drifted down from overhead, Taiko began reciting from the scroll before him.
“In this Hour of the Hawk on this forty-fifth day of Crane, in the Renovations Era Year of 707, within this ritual circle created upon the Theater stage aboard the separated Right hull of the Magic Item Shop Right Here Chloe, abreast the Sea of Toh in the Kingdom of Eternia upon the world of Shothi, do I, Taiko of Ribe, born Tiko of the Bura, defrocked former Hokyukko, both prior by action and hereinafter the ‘First Customer’, now wish for Justin Carse, Contracted Keeper of the Magic Item Shop Right Here Chloe, hereinafter the ‘Proprietor’, to be assigned, awarded, dispensed to, endowed, equipped, imbued, infused, invested, and in all other benign ways provided with the maximum acuity, amount, degree, durability, intensity, magnitude, stability, strength, and other relevant characteristics possible. . .
. . .inherent to a suite of Void-based abilities, capacities, masteries, powers, proficiencies, senses, spells, techniques, and other applicable faculties as closely analogous as possible to those which he does, is, has, or should be awarded, conferred, deserve, earned, guerdoned, incurred, merit, requited, and is in any other way further entitled to, according to Celestial Law, as a consequence of his defeat in single combat of the Constellation of the Crocodile Taisa of the Riben Temple of the Stars, as so acknowledged by that individual. . .
. . .through the full and complete expenditure of all mana specifically reserved towards the fulfillment of my requirements according to the Contractually established constraints of this magical alteration of all applicable cosmoses, without any amplification, augmentation, bestowal, enhancement, enrichment, guidance, improvement, supplementation or other involvement beyond the minimum necessary by the God of Dawn in specific or any other Celestial source in general, and as modified by the ongoing ritual being performed around us. . .
. . .minimum of eight options designated as ‘meta keys’, which can redefine the previously described ‘hot keys’ into prearranged combinations. . . .
. . .including ‘logic blocks’ capable of activating ‘hot keys’ and ‘meta keys’, integrated with said suite of Void-based abilities, capacities. . .
. . .Wish shall occur on the Effective Date and Time and its fundamental alterations of all applicable cosmoses shall continue in perpetuity, without limit or possibility of termination except by the cosmically, demonically, divinely, karmically, magically, mentally, physically, spiritually, and in all other possible or impossible ways uncompelled choice of the Proprietor, including any prior, subsequent, and atemporal arrangements, auguries, machinations, manipulations, oracles, prophecies, stratagems, whims, or other involvements with, of, or by destiny, doom, fate, fortune, karma, kismet, preordination, providence, or. . . ."
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