Chapter: 304 Bonus - Metti, Segis, Karsa, Petra, and Simon (Patreon)

Greetings!
Thank you all for your forebearance with my missing the Bonus chapter last month. I hope that this is the first of two for this month, but it is at least a bonus chapter for June. 😋

I am daily blessed by your readership and support. 😊

Thank you,
J.L.Mullins

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Metti giggled as she ran and played beside the unnatural creek.

There was nothing wrong with the water, and the dirt and rocks that acted as bed and banks were normal enough, but even Metti knew enough to realize that water didn’t flow in a circle.

She didn’t actually know how many times she’d followed the water through a full circuit over the last days, ignoring the offshoots and inlets, scrabbling across the paths and under the bridges that crossed the flow.

It doesn’t end! She giggled again. And it’s always downhill, the whole way around.

The mystery was just too fascinating.

Not that anything in this place was really natural, though it did try. It’s not even winter in here, when it is outside.

The seasons were important, and it was clearly a mistake that they didn’t align.

In truth, she hadn’t been following the creek without interruption whenever she played around the water. There were too many pretty flowers to smell, plants to poke at, and cute animals to try—unsuccessfully—to sneak up upon.

Why won’t the bunnies let me pet them… She pounced, but the latest fuzzy brown thing was already darting away.

Terry makes it look so easy.

Terry was best bird.

He didn’t sing as often as a songbird.

He didn’t wake everyone like a rooster.

He didn’t talk like some of dada’s friends’ birds did.

Instead, he hunted her and taught her to hunt him in return.

She giggled, spinning around even as the quiet terror bird flew through the air in an attempt to land on her back.

“Saw you!”

Terry flickered, ending up on her head despite her attempts to keep him off.

“You always attack right after I pounce.”

He squawked in a way that made her laugh again.

“Then why do I keep doing it? Because this is fun!” She darted her hands upward, trying to catch a hold of the bird.

He flickered away and back with just enough delay to let her hands pass through where he had been.

“That’s so not fair.” Metti pouted, but she had a hard time holding the pout, especially since she knew it wouldn’t work.

Terry let out a mocking series of chirps.

“Fine…” She groused, but a smile was already fighting its way across her face.

He flickered to stand on a nearby rock, staring up at her. He knew what he was doing.

The smile won through, and Metti giggled again. “You want to play tag?”

The bird glanced pointedly towards the river.

“I don’t need to keep following it, not today. I’ll find the end tomorrow.” She just needed to look closer. The magic involved couldn’t trick her forever. Magic is cheating.

Terry squawked once, and she couldn’t quite understand what he was trying to say.

“You try to say too much at once. Speak less.”

He titled his head, seeming genuinely confused.

Metti giggled. “See? That’s better. I now know that you don’t know what I meant. Your meaning is as clear as day.”

Terry flickered up to her head, where he bopped her somewhat hard before squawking.

“Ow! Stop that.” She reached up to fend him off.

He flickered away before she could swat him.

“What was that for?”

He chirped once.

She looked down and away. “I’m not being mean.”

He chirped again.

“I’m not! I’m…”

He chirped a third time, more firmly this time, and she stopped her protests.

She took a deep breath and let it out in defeat. “I’m sorry. I like you talking. Will you forgive me?”

Terry flickered to the top of her head and rubbed his face into her hair.

Metti giggled. “Thank you, Terry. You are best bird.”

This place was amazing

She wanted someplace like this, and a friend like Terry, when she was older. Her time at the Academy couldn’t come soon enough.

Magic is so much fun!

Terry squawked, drawing her attention back to him.

“Right! Let’s play.”

* * *

Segis faced his opponents with courage in his heart and a blade in his head.

He had no magic.

He needed no magic.

He was the blade, and the blade was all he needed.

It didn’t matter that they had come upon him after he trained, and was unarmored and tired; it didn’t even matter that he only had his training weapon with him.

They would fall like all the rest.

“Segis! Lunch is about ready.” His mom’s voice cut through the morning air, pulling him from his imagination.

“Mom! I’m right in the middle of something!” He stood in the middle of a large training circle, a stick in hand. The funny Mage lady who owned this whole place had said he could play—train—in this place if he wanted, and he quite enjoyed the open feel and the solid footing.

“Well, finish up, then.” He could hear the smile in his mother’s voice, even though she was quite a ways away.

“Alright…” He called back just loud enough that she’d hear him.

Segis snapped his training weapon up into a high guard.

“You’ve chosen a poor time, I won’t be able to be lenient with you. Not today. I haven’t the time.”

The assassins didn’t speak as they swarmed towards him.

A training sword was not suited to quick, wholesale slaughter.

That was fine. He had options.

He broke his weapon across the side of the first attacker’s head and took that man’s sword.

From there, it was child’s play.

Segis moved with perfect efficiency.

His foes died without pain.

Their blood flew away from him, leaving his clothes immaculate.

They charged him with wild abandon, giving no heed to the fall of their predecessors.

Segis was the perfect warrior.

When the last had fallen, he looked around himself with a smirk of self-satisfaction. I suppose this will do for practice for today.

However, he felt the smile pulling at his lips become tainted by disappointment.

Are there simply none worthy of me? None who can push me to my limits?

Such was life at the top.

His last enemy had fallen, and he looked down upon their bodies, realizing that the cleanup would be far, far more taxing than the battle.

He paused, nodding to himself. “Therein lies wisdom.”

Perhaps he should turn his mind towards sagehood now that none could rival him with a blade.

The world transformed around him, and he stood on a counsel floor debating his adversaries with words rather than steel, but he cut them down all the same.

None could bring forth arguments that could withstand his mind and wit, nor bring down his own assertions.

Even so, his greatest opponent, Primas, stepped forward, a sneer evident for all to see. He tried to demand that Segis depart, but Segis simply shook his head.

“Truly, I am the greatest, and none can command me in any—”

“Segis! Lunch is ready!” His mom’s voice cut through his imaginative world once more, now with power infusing her words to ensure he heard them.

The counsel chamber shattered within his mind, revealing that he was still in the middle of the training circle.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping, “Coming, mom!”

He looked around at his surroundings. It was a wonderful place, completely separate from outside, and just for them.

Maybe magic isn’t so bad. It did have its uses.

Segis ran towards his mother and lunch, but he paused as he reached the side of the training ring.

He glanced back, Primas coming back into view as Segis glared. “I’ll be back for you, after lunch.”

* * *

Karsa rested in the crook of a large tree, reading her book and enjoying the weather.

As much as she loved the winter, it was irritating to try to read outside in the snow, but it wasn’t winter in this place, so Karsa took full advantage.

As to the book, it hadn’t been assigned for school, and was probably not on any recommended reading list, but she had found it, and she was loving it.

Even with a good book in hand, she couldn’t put her environment fully out of her thoughts. It was an odd thing, this forest in which she sat.

About one in every ten trees was an old-growth monster, and the other nine were barely a few years old.

The effect was like some city had logged the area haphazardly then felt bad, and so they replanted around the remaining older trees.

Even so, this tree was perfect for sitting in to read.

Karsa snuggled down into her seat a half-dozen feet off of the ground.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and she finished the tale.

It hadn’t been the longest book, and she’d wished it could have gone on a bit longer, shown a bit more.

Well, I suppose there doesn’t have to be romance in every book… might have been a nice addition, though.

She had plenty of time until they all left for the day, and soon enough they would be living in here.

They’d have a lot of time in here before long, so she wasn’t in a hurry to see all the interesting sights or find all of the secret places.

I can’t wait until I get my Archive slate. The books held within the Archive were beyond easy count. I can queue up so, so many.

Her mom already had it, but she wanted to get it ‘ready’ for Karsa before Karsa got it for her use.

Soon enough, though, she’d have all the books.

Karsa was greatly looking forward to many days in the tree.

She made her way towards the pens and pastures where the livestock of this odd place were housed.

Sometimes it was hard to tell, but this was not a normal place.

Karsa knew it was true, though. After all, she’d walked through the front door of her own house to enter here. She knew this place wasn’t outside her family’s house.

More than that, the door she’d come through had disappeared as soon as it had closed behind her.

Dad had told her all sorts of tales about the magic he worked with, but she hadn’t really understood the extent.

She looked around herself.

Beautiful paths of gravel or stone, lush plants in vibrant colors, flowing water, and singing birds abounded.

In the distance, she could see animals moving among the smaller trees.

A pervasive peace seemed to fill the very air.

Deep within her chest, she felt something stirring.

She knew that she had a gate, everyone did, but it wasn’t something that she thought about often, even with all her older siblings having gone off to the Academy.

That had never really appealed to her, she hadn’t seen much point to becoming a Mage. Most good things she experienced from magic were available to anyone within a city.

More importantly, her favorite stories weren’t about Mages. Instead, they were about gateless, striving against all odds and the world itself.

But even after just a few visits to this place, this sanctum… she found herself wanting more.

She wanted to see real magic, not just the tame devices and conveniences available in the cities.

She found herself wanting to wield magic, to claim places like this sanctum for her own, to leave her mark on the world.

In truth, Karsa had finally decided to follow in her family’s footsteps.

She wanted to be a Mage.

* * *

Petra worked the dough again and again.

The grains available as sanctum crops that were intended for Mistress Tala were slightly different from the wheat and oats she was used to working with, so it had taken her a few tries to make a proper laminated dough.

The early attempts were failures, and the Refined had still gushed about how delicious they were, but they hadn’t been right.

This time, Petra was sure she’d taken the variation in ingredients properly into account.

She still disdained the arcane contraption that could have beaten the dough with a rotary paddle, powered by the magic of this place. It was too unfeeling, too hands-off, and this was a new process for her.

She wanted to feel the texture of what she was working with. She could use the ‘mixer’ in the future.

While she let the dough rest, she worked to forward other parts of the meals she was currently preparing.

The counters were truly amazing. She could simply set a pan anywhere on it, activate a mechanism while indicating the desired pot or pan, and the cookware would heat up while sitting upon seemingly mundane stone.

Atop that counter, she had bacon frying and veggies sauteing. Additionally, on the other side of the kitchen a large stockpot was simmering, slow-cooking a bone-broth.

Tendrils of power spun out of her inscriptions, flipping the bacon and stirring the vegetables, among a half-dozen other things.

At the same time, she turned to work on chopping other ingredients that would be stored for later use.

She was a whirlwind, constantly working on at least three or four things at a time, her magics constantly active at a level that she could maintain all day.

Some of her magics were applications of power, like those that stirred or flipped. Some were sensory, allowing her to check temperatures, tastes, or texture. And some were self-augmenting: keeping her limber and strong and helping her keep all her many tasks in the front of her mind, and not cross the orders of operations or miss steps.

She found herself humming as the power flowed through her and her hands worked.

Every Mage had their own foundational understanding, but that had always been silly to her. In her mind, they all were just derivations or complications of hers.

Magic is useful.

Well—she allowed—those that didn’t reference magic directly weren’t so easily tied back to her own understanding, but it was only the fact that ‘magic was useful’ in applying those other understandings that allowed them to matter at all.

She did a little spin as she moved to the next task, checking the consistency of a batch of whipped cream her power was fluffing off to one side.

This recipe was for her family, so she tasted it herself and smiled contentedly.

Mistress Tala’s was being made alongside, inside a specially scripted jar that trapped the magics within.

Those arcanes are a bit… crazy. Who would have thought to imbue magics regarding blood functionality into milk? It was effective, the liquid being similar enough to allow it to act as a carrier for the power, but it was still an odd concept to Petra.

Still, she was surrounded by things that were clearly the result of minds that thought slightly differently than her own.

The knives stayed sharp, and even removed any humanoid blood if she happened to cut herself.

Human-made magical knives—if they had functionality beyond sharpness and durability—generally healed the cut made into human flesh, not that many paid for such extravagances.

This is less expensive, and who cares if the servants cut their fingers if the food stays untainted? She snorted.

That was just one of the easier oddities to notice.

Even so, working in this kitchen was a wonder, and Mistress Tala’s appetite made the creation of every meal like serving a feast to Petra’s entire extended family.

She pulled out the current batch of bacon and started another, allowing the grease to wick away on the cloth she’d prepared.

Then, the bacon removed, she placed the cloth on a designated section of a corner counter.

The grease vanished instantly.

Mistress Tala had apparently… negotiated with the sanctum. So, now any dish that was placed in the designated square would be instantly cleaned, and none of the food Petra prepared would be consumed.

That had been a confusing and frustrating afternoon…

Thankfully, they’d figured it out, and a solution was now in place.

All in a day’s work here. She grinned as she moved back to her dough.

She was loving every minute of it.

* * *

Simon walked the perimeter of Mistress Tala’s sanctum.

Kit, her name is Kit.

He was not used to thinking of a dimensional storage as a creature, let alone a creature with a name, but he was in it now.

Literally.

He chuckled to himself.

Even as he considered his new place of employment, he continued to let the incredibly complex artifact in his hand send out its senses, probing the edge of reality.

Mistress Tala had kindly had Kit alter the illusion at the edge of the sanctum, so that he could easily see where it lay.

Now, instead of it looking as if the rolling hills continued on toward the horizon, Simon could see the land drop off, immediately curving out of his line of sight.

He couldn’t lean over and look, because the space to do that literally didn’t exist, but his detection artifact and enhanced senses told him at least that much of the story, sending the information to the Archive slate he held in his other hand.

As he reviewed the results, he marveled for what might have been the ten-thousandth time about how this place was beyond his expectations.

If he didn’t know better, he would say that reality was more stable within Kit than within Zeme as a whole. The readings seemed to confirm that, but such would violate the theory of layered foundations.

The world fragment supposedly violates that theory.

He activated an inscription to facilitate an internal discussion once again, creating a second consciousness that specifically held the opposing viewpoint.

-A world fragment isn’t a subsidiary reality. It’s the original. Zeme is based upon the broken world, so of course the pieces that still exist can, and often do, have greater stability.-

The theory is based upon the foundational reality having greater size and primacy. A world fragment would have primacy, but size? No. It violates that part of the theory.

-Which is easier to break, a splinter of glass, or a thin sheet of it, a mile across.-

That’s a ridiculous example. He shook his head at the foolish argument that his splinter had grasped at. By that logic the universe itself should have splintered because it’s too big.

-Fine, but that wasn’t my point, regardless. Something being smaller can make it more stable.-

Simon found himself nodding as he considered that. It’s a sound theory, at least, though I don’t know of any proof.

-Besides this sanctum.-

Besides this sanctum, Simon allowed.

He deactivated the working and felt a bit of weariness. He absently took out a premade food bar specially put together to re-energize him.

He didn’t strictly need it after such a short back and forth, and certainly not with only one splinter, but he liked the taste, and it wouldn’t actually hurt him.

So, in theory, a reality can be more stable if it has primacy or is smaller… That actually had merit. It made the theory of layered foundations almost worthless in general application, but it was better to have an accurate, non-applicable theory than an inaccurate one.

He shook his head, refocusing.

There was too much here, too much even for his information processing and analysis scripts. The artifacts that he’d brought to gather data and look deeper just made the problem worse.

This wasn’t the project of a few years. He’d need half a decade just to figure out the things he would need to dig into before even starting any in-depth study.

He could see the spell-forms and natural magics of three or four origins woven into the edge of reality here, working to stabilize and reinforce existence within the sanctum, and his artifact could see at least twice again as many.

Kit was as armored as any reality could be, but it was akin to a child wearing dozens of sets of armor.

Sure, hurting her would be difficult, but she should be unable to move.

But Kit could move.

Somehow, physicality within this sanctum was malleable, completely shiftable at Mistress Tala’s will and by Kit’s action.

It was a contradiction of everything he thought he had known.

He shook his head. No. I’m approaching it like she’s an object again. Don’t treat this like an artifact to analyze, treat this like an active working of a dimensional Mage of incredible skill.

That actually made a lot of things click into place, and some of the contradictions smoothed out. It wasn’t a lot, but it was a start.

He nodded to himself. “Well, let’s get to it.”

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