Chapter: 462 Bonus - 'Man' of Mystery (Patreon)

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Mestgar felt a bit uncertain even though he was within his own shop, theoretically about to make a large sale.

He had never met with such a client before, but he had insisted after the order came in for a literal ton of jerky. Partially, this was because he couldn’t actually fulfill such a request, and he didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings.

Now, however, he stood facing the man who held an Archive slate that he seemed to use—somehow—to communicate. His words appeared large enough to be easily read without the man really needing to take any action to make it work.

“I received your message.” The words appeared for a moment before being replaced. “What seems to be the issue?”

Mestgar cleared his throat. “Well, good sir, I simply don’t have the resources nor equipment to create such a large quantity of jerky in anything close to a timely manner.”

There was a pause as the man’s head tilted to the side as if listening to a voice that Mestgar could not hear. Finally, new words appeared. “I understand. I apologize for the confusion and the misunderstanding. Your sign states that you have tons of jerky and this—” The words vanished before Mestgar could finish reading, only to be replaced with more, “How much can you provide? When could it be ready?”

That was a good question, actually. Mestgar pulled out his own slate and looked at the numbers that he’d come up with again, just to be sure. “With the meats I have in stock, I could give you five hundred pounds of jerky of various meats and flavors ranging from pork and fowl to venison and beef. On the flavor side, we’d have to run the gamut from simple smoked all the way to various spicy blends. As to a timeline, I can have it ready by the end of the week. Is that acceptable?”

His customer hesitated for a long moment, then gave an odd sort of nod, his slate displaying, “Yes. That is acceptable. Thank you. The same prices?”

“Of course.” Mestgar smiled. “My prices are my prices, after all.”

“Thank you.”

“I will see you at the end of the week then, good sir.” He set his slate down, and when he looked back up, the man was gone.

Honestly, if he didn’t already see the deposit in his account—displayed via his slate—he wasn’t sure that he’d be willing to trust that the man would be back.

Who disappears like that, nary a word of goodbye?

  *

Arne cheered as the tip of his stick struck the ball, skipping it across the ground and into the goal.

He and the neighbor kids were deep into a game of ra-ball, and he’d just scored his third point.

He didn’t particularly like the shinguards that he had to wear for the game, but in ra-ball, the other option was exceedingly painful.

No one liked getting their shins slammed even with what amounted to a heavy, stiff reed.

His dad had explained that it was like a large grass, but it still felt like wood to Arne, and hit just as hard, but the wooden sticks didn’t seem to hold up as well, so his dad was probably right.

Regardless, he’d just scored and Janthen—the goalie for the other side—had recovered the head-sized ball and thrown it back toward the middle of the play area.

Arne was getting back into position, his own team behind him and the four fielders of the other side facing him.

But then, he saw him.

Arne stood up straight, eyes going wide.

“Guys, guys!”

Lussa huffed. Even as she gathered with the others around him.

Arne ignored her. “That’s him. The ghost!”

Everyone turned and looked as Arne pointed.

There was an adult walking by the park on the east side. If the man kept walking, he would pass by, barely two dozen yards from where they were playing.

His friends took a moment to look before Janthen spoke up, “I don’t know, Arne. He just looks like some guy.”

“Sure, he looks like that. But I’ve seen him disappear without a trace!”

Lussa was frowning. “Why would a ghost be here, now?”

Arne lowered his voice. “They eat the souls of children, don’t you know anything?”

She blushed, her face turning stormy. “I know that, stupid. I mean why is he here?”

He gestured around to the group of ten kids. “We’re here. Ten of us, all together.”

Tlaen shifted nervously. “I thought they only attacked kids if they went out alone, at night? We aren’t alone. It isn’t night!”

That seemed to sway the kids a bit, who seemed like they might have been starting to believe Arne. Arne couldn’t have their belief fading. He was no liar. “Well… maybe he’s really strong? He can hunt in the day and hunt groups? Or he’s finding someone to follow home and take later.”

That… they didn’t like the idea of that.

Zin huffed. He and Arne got along just fine most of the time, but if two of their group fought, it was generally Zin and Arne. “Come on, Arne. That’s just some guy, and you’re just trying to scare us.”

Arne felt himself flush, almost as much as Lussa had. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“I’m saying you don’t know what you're talking about.” Then, Zin seemed to notice Arne’s expression and hedged, “Or you're pulling our leg.”

“He. Is. A. Ghost.”

Zin seemed surprised that Arne was so certain, but he didn’t back down. Instead, he bent over and picked up the ball. “If you’re so sure, throw this through him. Everyone knows only magic can touch a ghost. It should go right through.”

Arne scoffed and took the ball. The man was almost as close to them as he would come. “Fine.”

It wasn’t a hard throw. They made tosses like that all the time when the ball went outside the boundaries of the field. Therefore, without giving himself time to reconsider, he turned and threw the ball with two hands. If he was wrong, he’d probably get in trouble, but he wasn’t wrong.

He knew he wasn’t.

He had good arms, and the ball flew true, straight through the head of the man.

The kids gasped, but things didn’t end there.

The ghost’s head whipped to face them, eyes flaring with an inner light of power.

Each and every one of the ten turned and ran away, screaming, afraid that the ghost was coming after them, specifically.

But when Arne was halfway across the park, he calmed enough to glance backward. The ghost was already gone.

  *

Birk chatted with the other guards as he watched over the eastern gate into Alefast, Waning.

It was a good life, surrounded by his friends and colleagues. The guard units were encouraged to be friendly with each other and with the comers and goers.

Truthfully, Birk had originally become a guard because he wanted to see magical beasts. Even more truthfully, he had wanted—and very much still wanted—to see a dragon.

He knew it wasn’t likely, but he’d always wanted to see one.

A black, flying one. Small and fast.

He’d love to keep it for his own, but he didn’t think he could afford enough fish or sheep to feed the thing.

Regardless, that deep desire had led him to the guard and his second family. And that second family contained an irritating older brother.

“Birk, Birk! There he is.”

Birk sighed. “Klaus, I swear…”

The pale older man shook his head, the faint stubble on his chin practically whistling through the air as he cut Birk off, “No. I’m sure this time. Look.”

He shook his head in turn, but a smile pulled at his lips nonetheless. Klaus was the odd one of the group, but they liked him all the same.

Sure enough—to Birk’s surprise—there was an odd man walking through the gate. The man paused at the check-out station, but it was more of a glance than a true stop-and-write-his-name pause.

Even so, Janred—the one on duty at the Archive slate—didn’t stop him from moving on through, so he must have signed out.

Klaus was grinning widely, almost maniacally. “See? He’ll exit the gate then vanish.”

Birk was actually listening now, even if Klaus had tried to tell him all of this a dozen times before. He’d tried to tell any of them who would listen, but no one had been particularly interested in doing so. “People are allowed to go out of sight, Klaus.”

“No, no. Not out of sight. He disappears. One moment he’s there, then the next he’s gone.”

Skeptical, Birk watched the man from the walltop at Klaus’s side. Sure enough, as soon as the stranger passed beneath the gateway, he was simply gone.

“See? Well, you don’t see him, but you get what I mean, right? That’s the point?”

Birk shrugged. It certainly was odd, but… He sighed. “It’s not illegal to be mysterious, Klaus.”

The other man waved dismissively. “Sure, sure. But you’ve seen him, right? You believe me, right? You can tell the others that I’m not crazy?”

Birk gave a half smile. “Yeah. I’ll tell them, Klaus. You’re not crazy.”

Klaus visibly relaxed. “Thanks, Birk. You’re a good one.”

Birk patted the older man’s shoulder, chuckling under his breath. Yeah, he was very glad for his family, both old and new.

  *

Vanga walked boldly through her house in the dead of night, following the sounds of utensils clinking on plates and the low rumble of a woman whispering.

Sometimes enhanced senses were a curse. What is that girl up to?

Anna had a habit of bringing home strangers, feeding them, and hearing their life story.

Though, she’s usually not doing so in the middle of the night…

No one should be stupid enough to break into her house, but if they had, Vanga would make them regret it. She would, of course, heal them after, but even so.

She came into her kitchen only to find Anna and an unknown man sitting on the floor, a ridiculously large number of empty containers spread out around them.

Anna looked up as Vanga entered. “Master! What are you doing awake?”

She moved to stand, but Vanga waved her off. “Sit, Anna. I heard noises and wanted to check things out.”

The rather nondescript man was sitting cross legged on the floor, regarding her with… familiarity? Anna grinned widely. “I am almost certain that this is Terry, Mistress Tala’s companion.”

Vanga raised her eyebrows at that. “Almost certain?”

Anna shrugged. “Either way, he seemed hungry enough that I don’t begrudge the food. He’s quiet though. Completely silent actually. I usually like to hear about people’s lives.” She shrugged again. “But I suppose it can’t be a requirement.”

Vanga regarded the man who was probably Terry. “Terry?”

He tilted his head to one side before giving a nod.

She sighed. Of course, if he wasn’t, and he had any sort of intelligence, he’d indicate yes to that question.

She considered for a long moment before sitting down near them and pulling an Archive slate her way. “Come on, let’s see what’s open and accepting Archive orders. They should be willing to deliver.”

The man perked up, and Anna clapped her hands gleefully.

A notice popped up on the side of her slate, a note from Alat—Tala’s alternate interface. ‘Thank you. Terry does love to eat, but he also enjoys company on occasion.’

Vanga smiled. That confirmed, she settled in to order a lot of food.

It seemed like it was going to be a relatively busy night.

  *

Tai loved his job.

He loved seeing all the citizenry around him, living their lives in safety in part because of him.

He knew that he wasn’t solely responsible by any means, but he helped. Today, he was walking his circuit, waving to familiar people, be they pedestrians or shop owners.

He was just rounding the corner when his detector flickered on his wrist and vibrated. There was conceptual magic being used nearby.

He immediately pulled out his tools to hone in on exactly who it was that wielded such powers.

There.

A nondescript man stood across the street, seemingly perusing the items in a stall.

The owner tried to engage with him with no luck.

In fact, the man didn’t move quite as much as Tai would have expected. Illusion?

Concept magic and an illusory form. That was enough to question the man at the very least.

He pulled out his Archive-linked scanner and logged the readings before he pulled out his slate to verify the results and check for any notes attached to the man’s magical signature.

He was very careful to do so after his mistake with the girl, Kedva, and Mistress Tala.

He felt himself relax. The man was known and not a threat. He was even flagged as specifically friendly.

With that information, there would be no questioning. Tai would leave him be.

He lowered his slate and looked up, only to find the man standing right infront of him.

Tai jerked back in surprise, but long training kept him from calling up his magics or doing anything else that could be hostile. Surprising a patrolling Mage shouldn’t be enough to put someone in danger after all.

He met the man’s gaze for a moment more before giving a bow. “Master Terry. My apologies if I disturbed you. I hope that you have a wonderful day in our fair city.”

The man regarded him for a long moment more before nodding once and simply vanishing.

Tai broke out in a cold sweat.

He was suddenly very glad that he hadn’t been too magic-happy toward the man.

Rules exist for a reason indeed. He swallowed, shivered, and tried very hard to turn his mind back to his duties.

  *

Fluffy lounged on a short wall outside his servant’s house.

The human Archon who had lent her soul to Fluffy’s service was wonderful, but she sometimes got entirely too familiar with Fluffy.

The irony was not lost on the cat.

He was willing to forgive the ridiculous name. She had offered to let him change it when they bonded, but he had gotten entirely used to the silly thing by that point.

That was likely one of his more human features, coming from the bond. He identified himself by his name too much to let it be changed.

Even if his name was stupid.

He rolled and stretched, letting the sun warm his tummy deliciously.

Then, something encroached on his territory.

He felt it when the being entered his sphere of influence.

Fluffy wasn’t a fool. He didn’t react more than to open one eye and lock onto the passing person.

No.

It was obviously not a human who was walking past. There was something wrong with it, even though every feature was human in every respect.

The ‘man’ noticed Fluffy’s inspection and paused, turning to meet the cat’s gaze.

Fluffy didn’t feel overly threatened, so he vaguely batted a paw in its direction and gave a little hiss.

The man’s hair rose, and Fluffy was about to congratulate himself on a job well done when an aura rolled out of the ‘man.’

It was stronger than Fluffy’s servant, stronger than Fluffy even.

He flipped around, twisting to land lithely on his paws and meeting the encroacher’s gaze, hissing again. This hiss was one of wary aggression as opposed to the lazy dismissal from earlier.

The eyes that looked back at him were that of a predator.

The only sound that came back, however, was utterly inhuman.

It opened its mouth and an ominous trill issued forth.

Fluffy’s hair stood on end, and he bolted, hissing and spitting all the way back toward his servant’s lap.

When he glanced back—as he crossed the threshold of his home—the strange ‘man’ was gone.

Good. The creature knew what was good for it and fled while it still could.

Fluffy drew comfort from his certainty… and from the slow pets of his servant.

  *

Girt sat on a park bench, looking out at the beautiful, cultivated foliage.

Beside him sat a young man who felt old, but wasn’t actually a man at all.

Girt was well aware of the fact.

The not-man also seemed to know that Girt knew.

Neither of them particularly cared.

Girt had a sense of kinship for this illusory figure, and he suspected he knew who lay underneath. He didn’t feel a need to confirm one way or another. Instead, they simply sat in silence, enjoying the company of someone who understood.

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