Jack decided to spend the first part of his day just thinking. He went up to his office


    and settled behind the desk. New quests meant new problems. At least they were right


    about the quests being a stopgap to going home.


    He could see why Old Man Warner had decided not to stay in Dark Ages Land. If he


    had, maybe he would have inflicted more of a change on things. Would he want


    responsibility for that?


    Jack and Josie had inflicted their own changes in the small amount of time they had


    been using the watches. Should they have interfered like they did?


    He found that he had no ability to excuse the interference they had done other than


    the higher powers said it was okay. That would have to be enough for right now.


    Anything else would have to be judged case by case.


    He looked around and found some scrap paper. He grabbed a pen and thought about


    the arm he had promised to make for the Ducklings’ teacher. He wrote down what he


    thought he could do with the aid of Majick and Warlock.


    He might need Doctor Strange to put the prosthetic in place.


    Surgery would be fast the way the Doc did it. Five tentacles, a collection of eyes, and


    a magical natural welder would give him what he needed.


    Then he could deal with Guin over what he had done at the Estate in the woods.


    He wondered how that was going. Should he be helping them identify the bodies he


    had dropped everywhere? Death was an excellent trump card against the low


    resources he had seen on Hawk Ridge’s planet. He might need to keep it up his sleeve


    more.


    Still, he had killed a crowd of human monsters in seconds. That had to be some kind


    of local record. He decided that Josie would be mad if he put up a sign bragging about


    it.


    He wondered if the Montrose would send in guys to find him and Josie from other


    places. How many could he syphon off as they tried to figure out what was going on?


    Could they make Hawk Ridge a no fly zone for their enemies?


    Eventually they would smarten up and stop sending guys to the city, and then he and


    Josie would have to hunt them down.


    He decided to hit the administrative building at the center of the castle and city. He


    had told Lord Cilt he would help out with his land problem. Maybe he should see


    who actually owned the land now. That was the first step in getting it back.


    He found the building after asking for directions a few times. He entered and looked


    around. He needed more directions, or maybe a Vision. One lookaround pointed him


    to the right staircase and a sign marked out in the strange letters of the place.


    He climbed up to the office and paused at the counter. No one was in sight. He didn’t


    see a bell. He wondered if there was a clerk around. He decided to jump over the


    counter and start looking around the stacks of papers.


    He needed to find Lord Cilt’s case and the papers for the tax seizure. If they were


    there, it might give him a clue on how to proceed next.


    There was no guarantee they had written an order. Why produce evidence against


    yourself for fraud when you were taking someone else’s property? Why not just claim


    you had a reason, and then never file any paperwork at all?


    Unless they needed to have that paperwork to show they had a case to seize things.


    What was the law for eminent domain against a noble? Could you just take an estate?


    He felt he needed to look at the tax code and look for anything other people would


    miss. First, he had to find the paper order for the seizure.


    “Excuse me,” said a voice by the counter. “What are you doing?”


    “Hello,” said Jack. He turned and grinned at someone in the livery of the authority.


    “My name is Jack. I was asked to look into a false seizure of property. I was


    wondering where those orders were.”


    “False orders aren’t possible,” said the clerk. “Everything is filed in triplicate and the


    Archive gets a copy, the Court gets a copy, and the Administration gets one that is


    filed for the Duke.”


    “What if the official order was entered under false pretenses?,” said Jack. “How


    would you go about fixing that?”


    “You would have to present a case before a magistrate, or the Duke, to get the charge


    vacated,” said the clerk. “Then you would have to send the order to the King’s


    scribes, and then wait for a returning order.”


    Jack thought about that. That presented the case that a false charge could be filed, but


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.there was no way to fix it short of going to the King. And the threat of that was so


    great that no one ever tried it.


    Nobody wanted to meet the axeman over something like a property crime.


    Should he swing by the King’s castle and say something to the man? He decided that


    would not be in the best interest of his mission. And if the King was a member of the


    Montrose, he would meet Josie in a dark alley.


    He could look at the King later when he was done killing the local Montrose.


    “So as long as I didn’t file anything with the Royal Archive, I could just sign an order


    and have it cleared by the local courts?,” said Jack.


    “Maybe if you were a member of the nobility,” said the clerk.


    “So if I wanted to look for an order here in the Archive, how would I find it?,” said


    Jack. He waved his hand at the paperwork around him.


    “You would need the number for the paperwork, and I would show you the drawer


    where the order was kept,” said the clerk. “Do you have the number for any such


    order?”


    “Not really,” said Jack. “I have a name. Would that be enough?”


    “Depends on the name,” said the clerk.


    “Lord Cilt,” said Jack. “Do you know where his order would be?”


    “The noble tax orders are in the closet to the left,” said the clerk. He pointed at the


    door at the back of the room. “They should be filed under the title given.”


    “Thanks,” said Jack. He went into that archive. He lit a lamp hanging on the wall and


    went through the drawers until he found the tax papers for Lord Cilt. He went over


    the orders and frowned. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking at it but it


    looked hinky to his untrained eyes.


    He needed to look at the tax code, and then ask the Court how Lord Cilt had come up


    for the land grab.


    He had a feeling that Lord Hent had stated he wanted the land, then the city powers


    moved to give the land to the Duke. Arguing with him at a party wasn’t something


    that would have worked in the champion’s opinion.


    He might have been put down by the guards on the scene to shut him up about any


    corruption.


    “Can I ask what this is about?,” asked the clerk. He stood where he could watch Jack


    reading the order. He didn’t want this stranger to ruin the paperwork.


    “I ran into a guy who said the city took his land under a pretense,” said Jack. “I’m


    trying to see if he has a way of getting it back.”


    “He would have to file an appeal through the Court,” said the clerk. “Maybe to the


    Capitol. Chances are he still wouldn’t get his property back. Once seized, never


    returned.”


    “Sounds like some basic government pirating,” said Jack. “Do you have a copy of the


    Tax Code?”


    “I think I do in my desk,” said the clerk. “I wish you the best of luck trying to get


    your friend’s land back. It’s normally not done.”


    “If I can’t do it, I’ll ask my partner,” said Jack. “She’s a lot smarter than I am.”


    “All right,” said the clerk. He searched his desk until he found a tome of tremendous


    proportions. He handed it over, sighing when the weight was out of his hands.


    “That’s a big book,” said Jack. He put it on a cleared table before it dragged his


    arms out their sockets. “Do you know the tax code?”


    “No one knows the tax code,” said the clerk. He tried not to look too amused by his


    unwanted guest’s predicament.


    “Let’s see what I can do with this bad boy,” said Jack. He reached for his watch


    and Mister Fantastic came to the front in golden overalls and boots. He flipped


    through the pages twice to make sure he had all the material covered before he


    gave the persona up.


    “Thanks for your help,” said Jack. “I appreciate it.”


    He handed the book back. He would need someone in power to sign an order.


    He wondered who that would be with all those people he had killed.


    He imagined it would be whomever replaced Hent if he didn’t have any heirs.


    He put it on his list to find out who the replacement duke was so he could coerce


    an order out of the man so Lord Cilt could get his land back. There was something


    wrong about this. His look at the order suggested that the land had been seized to


    line Hent’s pockets.


    He would go over things at home. The first step was waiting for the new appointment


    of someone in charge of the region that Hawk Ridge dominated. Then came the need


    to have things written down and sent to where they needed to be.


    Jack worked his way around to head over to the local metal works. He wanted some


    genuine metal to make Harp’s arm. He could create some, but he wanted to feel


    the weight of it before he tried to attach it to the former adventurer.


    It would be a problem if the arm weighed too much for him to use it.


    Once he had that back at the Hole in the Wall, he could work on shaping the


    resources into something useful. He might ask Josie to help him just to see what she


    thought of things.


    He walked along the street of smiths, listening to the clangs of hammers on metal


    and the hissing of cooling water. He paused at a place that didn’t look that busy and


    went inside.


    “Hello,” said the counterman. “I see you’re someone in need of a sword.”


    “Not really,” said Jack. He grinned at the other’s expression. “I was wondering if you


    had any raw material to sell.”


    “Raw material?,” asked the counterman. “What kind of material?”


    “Iron, steel, maybe some copper,” said Jack. “I’m not really sure what I will need.”


    “Not sure?,” said counterman.


    “I’m building an arm,” said Jack. “It’s my first time. Any suggestions?”


    “I have some gauntlets that could act as hands,” said the counterman. “Would you


    like to look at them?”


    “That would be great,” said Jack. “How many do you have?”


    “I have about ten,” said the counterman. “They are all purpose replacements. Usually


    we have to make something specific for the armor in question.”


    “Let’s see these replacement gauntlets,” said Jack. “If I see something I like, I will


    pay to have them delivered to my residence.”


    The counterman waved for Jack to follow him to the back of the shop. A forge burned


    the air next to buckets of water. Pallets of metal rested next to the buckets, ready


    to be turned into weapons or armor. Completed pieces were piled up in bins so they


    could be grabbed and sold.


    They walked to the wooden storage bins. The counterman picked up one of the


    gauntlets and handed it over to Jack. The dialer took the piece of armor and turned


    it over in his hands.


    “As you can see we made the knuckles as articulated as we could,” said the


    counterman. “The metal is tough enough to take a mace blow. You just fit it over any


    armor you might have.”


    “How much would it be for three of these, and about twenty ingots of metal?,” asked


    Jack.


    “I’ll look up the prices for you,” said the counterman.