Chapter: 266 - Small Note (Patreon)

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Holly sighed as the mageling behind her thrashed and screamed.

He was being well paid, and had even volunteered for ‘deep’ inscriptions, but he wasn’t taking them well.

Part of the issue was the pain wasn’t really physical, so couldn’t be directly inhibited.

She’d tried knocking her subjects unconscious, but as with that girl, when each had come to, all the pain had come upon them at once.

Contrary to what she often said, she did not like restarting people’s hearts, so that method wasn’t very practical.

As she was paying a handsome amount for subjects these days, including redesigning their scripts free of charge, Holly had an over-abundance of Mages, magelings, and Archons willing to have her try new things on, but it hadn’t taken long to realize that she had to have a completely clean slate, and the less ‘set’ their magics, the better.

The current boy had just graduated a few weeks earlier. In fact, his master was in the front room, likely still pacing.

Holly pulled out her slab and activated the surveillance scripts.

She could have pulled them up internally, but her head already hurt, so it wasn’t worth the effort.

The mageling’s master was, indeed, still pacing, but something else grabbed her attention.

Someone had granted her additional access within the Archive.

What the rust?

She accessed the information and was greeted by what seemed to be a memory. Like the ones Mistress Tala showed me so many months ago. She did miss that girl. One day, she’d have to figure out what happened to her.

Holly watched the memory as some sort of arcane device activated and tendrils of metal wove through the person the memory was taken from.

No… Is that? Somehow, the memory conveyed the intent and actuality of what happened. Yes, it is reinscribing them.

Who sent this? I need to see this device.

Along with the memory was a short note.

‘Mistress Holly, I’m back. We should talk.’

A wicked grin spread across the Inscriptionist’s face. She didn’t need a name signed, which was good, because there wasn’t one.

“Oh, you stubbornly resilient child. How I’ve missed you.”

*     *     *

Rane stepped back, critically examining the massive, unfinished statue towering above him.

He tilted his head, first one way, then another.

Not quite… He stepped forward once again, placing his hand against the offending bit of granite, and very purposefully started a kinetic cycling, almost turning his hand into a sort of repeating hammer, but with much greater precision.

The stone sloughed away, revealing new material underneath.

He grinned, once again pulling back to look at his work in progress.

It was a life-sized statue of a titan wolf, specifically: Anatalis, the Beast of the Northern Plains and Forest, who was said to rule over the wolves there, beyond the forests that human cities treated as their northern border.

We’re surrounded by forests, filled with the Leshkin to the south, and the Anatalins to the north. Though, the wolves don’t raid us; they simply fall back as our cities cycle through their woodland hunting grounds.

There was some debate among scholars if the wolves were specifically hostile to humanity, but they would attack small groups of humans, so they at least weren’t overly friendly.

The bit of stone Rane had just adjusted was the fur on the right front leg of the statue.

Perfect.

The shape was now exactly as it should be, roughed out. That done, he could start buffing, polishing, and ensuring the precise details were as they should be.

Master Grediv had suggested that Rane take up a hobby to help him get used to being Fused, as well as help the process of Refining.

Rane hadn’t imagined that he’d enjoy stone carving. That’s probably why it had taken him so long to try it.

First, he’d tried painting.

He was awful. His teacher had gently told him that he wasn’t cut out for work with a brush.

He’d tried writing.

Rane, as it turned out, didn’t have the desire to write nonfiction, and he found that he enjoyed reading fiction far more than writing it.

He’d tried cooking.

As he didn’t want to eat what he cooked, the process was rather torturous.

He could have gotten scripts to maintain his shape, allowing for greater indulgences, but he didn’t want to waste the magic. After all, he could put that portion of his flesh to other purposes, and he had.

Of late, he was consistently matching Refined in friendly bouts and could endure against Master Grediv for a full minute.

But that was beside the point.

Finally, he’d tried stoneworking.

As it turned out, his kinetic redirection was perfect for working with stone, so long as he had the patience to gain precision and mastery of his own magics.

It was a match made under the stars.

Keeping an eye on his statue as if it might up and run off on him, Rane wandered over to a workbench to one side and took a long drink from his waterskin.

As he did so, his Archive tablet caught his eye.

There was nothing particularly odd about it, except that he kept it meticulously organized, and it seemed like someone had granted him additional access, and now that information was cluttering his system.

Master Grediv really should know better.

But as Rane looked closer, he was able to tell that it didn’t seem like the new access came from Master Grediv.

The information was a series of images, seemingly taken from someone’s mind.

The scenes were all of incredibly elaborate, massively complex, and delicious looking foods.

“What the rust? That’s mean.” He loved food, but rarely indulged for the reasons he’d just been contemplating.

The depictions of food came with a note.

‘Rane. Food is always good, and I’ve been having some rather interesting fare of late. We should grab a bite sometime soon. I’ll be in Alefast, Waning, shortly, and from there, I plan to go back to Bandfast. I hope our paths cross soon!’

Rane barked a laugh.

“Oh! You’re back.” A happy grin spread across his face.

It had worked. She’d seized upon whatever chance the Sovereign had arranged, and she was back.

Tala had returned to the human lands.

A part of him wanted to leave at once to go meet up with her.

Instead, he sent back a short reply before shaking his head and turning to regard the wolf statue once again. There would be time to meet up with her soon enough, and that time was not now.

She will likely have a lot to sort through in the immediate future, and I’ll just get in the way for now.

“Now, let’s see if I can finish you properly.”

*     *     *

Lyn filed yet another batch of documents and forms within the Archive before leaning back and sighing. “Kannis?”

“Yes, master?” The tired grin on the younger woman’s face gave away the joke.

Lyn huffed. “Very funny, child.”

“What can I do for you, Mistress Lyn?”

“I’m done for the night. How about you?”

Kannis chuckled. “Considering it’s morning? Yes. I am done for the night.”

Lyn groaned. She’d agreed to take on some extra managerial work now that she had Kannis assisting her and the girl was rather well trained by now, but the work was still more than Lyn was used to, and she was still acclimatizing to the processes, herself.

“Shall we head home?”

“Yes, please, my little mageling. Let’s go—” Lyn’s slate changed to a bright white color. It didn’t glow, but the pigment was a clear indication.

Kannis glanced at the device, then took in Lyn’s slumped demeanor. “Whatever it is, it came in after we left. We can deal with it when we come back this afternoon.”

Lyn almost turned away as Kannis suggested, but finally groaned and picked up the device. “It might be important.”

It was a simple note.

‘Lyn. I’m sorry that I’m late on the rent. Will you forgive me?’

The slate hit the floor as Lyn covered her mouth, tears filling her eyes and began to spill over.

A Mage working at a nearby desk cursed at the loud sound, “What the rust?”

Kannis ignored the other woman and was at her master’s side in an instant. “Mistress? Mistress Lyn? Are you alright? What’s happened?”

Around the sudden tears and snot, Lyn choked out a little laugh. “She’s alive.”

*     *     *

Boma growled as some lunatic gave him access to something new within the Archive.

Didn’t they know he was busy? He had a mountain of work to tackle this day, and someone decided to just throw information at him without preamble?

With a sigh, he opened the information packet. After all, no one would truly be foolish enough to waste his time. And pity the fool who is.

…He’d been wrong. Someone had granted him access to a memory of walking through a farm compound of some kind.

What the rust kind of stupidity… is… this…? His eyes widened as the perspective shifted to look up at the ‘sun.’

It was clear that the person’s magesight was powerful, but not specifically aimed at the creation and analysis of magical items.

Even so, the viewer’s advancement was similar to his own, and in that sight, he could see that the bright source of heat and warmth was, in fact, a construct.

It was an incredibly advanced, artificial sun. I don’t know that I’ve seen that make before.

He found himself standing, eyes widening further as he reviewed the short memory again, seeing more and more evidence of magic imbued into the constructions shown.

When he finally let the memory play to the end, a small note came into view.

‘Thank you for all of your help in the past. I’ve got some fun new things to show you when I’m able to get back to Bandfast. I’ll be in touch, Mistress Tala.’

Boma sat down hard.

He’d heard of Mistress Tala’s vanishing, and the loss of one so young and promising had saddened him, even if she had been a bit of a handful and lacking in direction.

“So, you’re back?” A smile started to tug at his lips as he recalled the few things he’d seen through, seemingly, her eyes. “And you’ve got some puzzles for us.”

He had full access to what she’d sent, so he added his own note next to hers.

‘Well, this will certainly be a treat. I’ll look forward to your visit.’ After a moment, he nodded and added, ‘I’m glad you’re safe, girl. Stay that way, will you?’

A moment later, unexpectedly, another note was added after his own. ‘I’ll do my best, Master Boma. It’s good to be back.’

*     *     *

Queue was a very happy man.

He had always been one to have more ideas than he had time or funds to see realized, and the lack of the latter caused an even greater dearth of the former.

Now, however, a steady stream of money had fallen into his lap.

A beautifully simple, widely useful item had come into his hands for replication and his partner, the provider of that same item, had vanished without a trace.

In truth, Queue had been sad to see her go, and he had initially looked for her safe return. Now, though? It had been many months, and he had found a use for the extra twenty percent.

It wasn’t a ton of gold to be sure, the entire profits so far had been a bit less than a thousand ounces gold, but production was speeding up, and he had ready customers on the books for the next thirty-thousand combs last time he’d checked, and that was nearly a week ago.

He was taking a break from working through the production projections and numbers to work on a different project.

He laughed at that. Still short on time, but not as badly as before. Besides, the process of comb production was almost to the point that he could pass some of it off to his research assistants.

He expected profits to be greater in the coming months since the startup costs were well and truly recouped and word was getting out from those who had already purchased one. Their friends were clamoring to get on the waiting list.

Master Simon knocked lightly as he came in. “Master Queue? Have you been working all night?”

Queue had, but he’d Refined long ago. “It’s no matter.”

Still, something smelled… amazing.

“Is that… coffee? And breakfast?”

“Yes, breakfast pastries, sir. Bacon and sunny-side-up egg, nestled in a laminate dough.”

Queue gave a half smile. Simon had a passion for baking, and he applied the same passion towards his work as a Constructionist, though he still pursued the hobby on the side. “Thank you, Master Simon, did you make these yourself?”

“Not this morning, sir. Hanna did, today.”

“She’s your eldest, correct?”

“Yes, sir.” Simon’s smile broadened. “She’s started working for a little bakery near our home, and she absolutely loves it.” There was both pride and a bit of longing in the younger Archon.

“Well, please convey my thanks.”

“I certainly will.”

Queue took a moment to enjoy the coffee and eat one of the pastries. Finally, he asked. “Are you quite sure it’s morning? I did promise Islade that I’d be home tonight.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Queue sighed. “Well, then, I must take the day off to make it up to her.”

“She knows you’re busy, I’m sure she understands.”

Queue chuckled. “Well of course she understands, that is not in question. I still broke a promise to my wife, however unintentionally. I must get home.”

He stood, but as he did so, his wall changed color. He was expecting some collaborative information from a colleague in Audel. Finished already?

He activated the Archive link with barely a thought, even as he gathered his things to go.

A simple note appeared as if scrawled within the nature of the wall.

What the rust? They promised me… It became instantly obvious that this wasn’t information granted to him by his colleague.

‘Master Queue, I trust that you are well and that our venture has begun to earn a profit, as we had hoped. Do you require anything further from me in order to transfer over my portion of the profits? Cordially, Mistress Tala.’

Queue’s eye twitched.

Master Simon’s eyes widened. “Oh! I’d thought she went missing?”

“She did.”

“Well, I am glad that she has been found, that is excellent news.”

Simon was right of course, that was excellent news, and Queue was happy that the girl was safe once more. Even so, it was with a mix of resignation and relief that he transferred the twenty percent to Mistress Tala’s account and headed for home.

He honestly never truly considered delaying. After all, even if it slowed down his other projects by a bit, Queue was a man of his word.

Now, flowers? Or maybe I should grab some of those pastries for her, they were fantastic… I think Master Simon lives on the way home? So, the bakery won’t be too out of the way.

That, he decided, was just the thing to accompany his apology and give Islade a great start to their day, together.

*     *     *

Ingrit rose early and prepared breakfast for herself and her family, a smile pulling at her lips.

Even though she could easily split her mind and be reading or working while she cooked, she didn’t use her time that way. Instead, she mindfully meditated on the service she was performing for her husband and four children who still lived with them.

She didn’t get to spend as much time with her family as she’d like, so she relished this chance to love them.

The family was stirring when the Archive tried to grab her attention. Apparently, someone had shared new information with her.

That could wait. This was not a time for work.

Breakfast was over far too quickly, and soon enough the kids were off to school, and her husband was heading toward his own job. He’d promised to take care of dinner that night, and that put a spring in Ingrit’s step.

She loved his cooking almost as much as she loved him.

Alright, family hat off, work hat on.

It wasn’t a long walk to the Library, but it did afford her some time.

Let’s see what… this… is.

‘Mistress Ingrit. I assume that confidentiality still exists between us. In that vein, I desperately need your assistance with my time away. Included here is a full log of—and access to—my memories and the information I gathered while in the arcane lands. I’d explain further, but you’ll know everything soon enough. I authorize you to share the titles of the books I have brought back, in full, from the arcane city of Platoiri. I will likely wish to barter with the Library to grant the full texts into your experienced keeping. I look forward to communicating with you further, Mistress Tala’

Ingrit had been so startled that she’d had to step to the side of the street and stop in her tracks. Arcane city? Books? What?

She opened the list of titles within her own mind and felt her eyes bug out.

Throwing decorum to the wind, Ingrit hiked up her skirts and took off to the Library, passing many mundanes so quickly they were left to simply comment on the crisp morning breeze.

*     *     *

Grediv looked down on the boy, his latest apprentice, though he was near to getting another.

The latest sculpture showed promise, though Rane had taken entirely the wrong lesson from his advice. Still, it was helping the boy with his magics.

I will take the victory. He was getting far too dependent on brute force and rough workings of power. This nuance is a welcome area of growth.

He saw Rane notice something on his own Archive link. As soon as he’s Refined, we’ll get him an integrated one. I believe there’s a relatively new inscription set that does wonders for that integration with the mind.

He’d have to take Rane to Bandfast, Holly was the only inscriber he’d trust such an upgrade to. It will be worth the trip.

A moment later, the Paragon received a surprise.

His own mental connection to the Archive presented Grediv with a short note even as it was shared with him.

‘I fear things will get complicated for me very soon. I appreciated your help during my raising, and request such assistance again. I am barely two hours out from Alefast, Waning. Can you help? Mistress Tala.’

Alive and returned? Rane was right to keep the faith, it seems.

Well, that explained some of the boy’s reaction, he must have gotten a message from her as well.

Grediv smiled and added a simple note of his own. ‘Absolutely. From which direction are you coming?’

‘East-southeast.’

‘I’ll meet you at the gate.’

*     *     *

Odera’s Archive tablet sat on a side table, unattended.

A shift in color indicated new access granted, but nobody was nearby to see.

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