ã€ŠScribble: A Day in the life of a [Scrivener]; LitRPG, Portal/Isekaiã€‹


 Chapter 1: Breakfast, Robes, and [Bracket]s

    Chapter 1: Breakfast, Robes, and [Bracket]s

    ¡°We never should have crossed that damned field.¡± There, I¡¯d said it. Now I could start my day. The first part of my morning routine complete, next came the hard part. Actually getting out of bed. I¡¯d always hated getting up, even¡­before. Next, I thought about what I was going to eat today. It was a bad habit, I know, but was something I¡¯d done most of my life. Food was an obsession of mine. In the past, a very unhealthy one at that. Now, I burned so many calories a day there were times when I literally couldn''t get enough. And not just in my head, but for my physicality as well. Burning through [mana] at the rate I did expended those calories at an alarming rate. I loved it.

    Throwing back the light coverlet I slept under, I greeted the mid-morning sun. Master Alric never opened his shop until noon. I checked the [System] clock displayed on my internal HUD. I had plenty of time to get in a three-course breakfast before heading over and resuming my training. I grabbed a quick gravity shower, the [heat; minor] scroll stuffed in the pipes (patent pending) providing the perfect temperature and the raining effect from the cistern overhead not providing the perfect pressure. Actually, there was no Patent Office here on Planet EH-103 (great name, huh? Makes you wonder what happened to numbers 101 and 102), not that the locals called it that. There was a guild where anything dealing with mana needed to be registered. Guild, actually, with a capital G.

    I dressed in my plain apprentice¡¯s robe. I was starting to get used to looking like some sort of Benedictine monk; a rough brown robe and rope belt, naturally thinning hair with the circular bare spot of early onset male patterned baldness in lieu of shaved pate. It felt less and less like a costume every day. The pointed, lobe-less ears staring back from a steam-fogged mirror were harder to get used to.

    Heading to the small yet nicely artificed kitchen, I found the usual cyclone of mess and clutter. Neither Tess nor I had a dominant cleaning gene in our makeup, despite recent jiggering of said DNA having been forced upon us. I will have to say, she was just a little messier than me. At least in my, totally unbiased, opinion. Oh, Tess was also my unrequited crush from our vastly different high school experiences. The cheerleader and track star versus the chubby nerd. It added ¡°awkward¡± to our recent, shared traumatic experience. ¡®Nough said. Anyway, the culprit was long gone herself, her job as a courier demanding much earlier hours. Obscenely early hours and a day of running all over the place. Ugh.

    After straightening up enough to clear a workspace for myself, I went about feeding my hunger. I set to reheating some of Tess¡¯s leftover porridge, she always made more than she could eat. I then cracked some large, brown eggs to fry in the self [heat]ing skillet and put a couple of freshly sliced pieces of bread into the toaster. The horizontal slots on the small appliance instead of the vertical ones like I grew up with jarred me more than the pointy ears. One more little thing to remind me how far from home both Tess and I really were. Once the porridge, eggs, and slices of buttered toast were ready, I tucked into them greedily. Finishing with a fruit and yogurt mixture, I felt a pleasant fullness in my belly. One I knew from experience wouldn¡¯t last nearly long enough. Done, I gave a quick, perfunctory clean to things and headed out. Pretty sure my haphazard swipe of the kitchen towel touched the counter. I think.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.I used to head out to work with a deep feeling of sadness weighing down my gut instead of a healthy breakfast. Not anymore. I¡¯m positively giddy nowadays. The difference between working at a dead end, scraping just enough to live on while finishing my degree in Creative Writing, and heading to my apprenticeship as a [Scrivener] was pure cliche. Night and Day; Black and White; Hot N¡¯ Cold. Just the thought of it¡ªMagic scrolls!¡ªsent a shiver through my being. I got to write for a living and, you know, Magic! Not that I was writing the ¡®Great American Novel¡¯, but, again, Magic. With a capital M.

    Walking the cobbled streets straight from a fantasy novel, I soon reached Master Alric¡¯s shop, ¡°Papers & Powers¡±. The sign overhead was simple, some might even say plain, but well constructed. A testament to the shop owner¡¯s style. I¡¯d found it one day on one of my own courier runs. A job that was as miserable as I was miserable at doing. The only reason I¡¯d been able to keep that particular job as long as I did was because of Tess. It was a perfect match for her, being the high school and collegiate track star she was. The owner¡¯s lit up at the sight of her completing every job ahead of schedule.

    A little back-story here. Jez and Terrin, proprietors of ¡°J & T Runners¡± (noticing a theme to the native naming culture on EH-103?), had given us a job when we first dragged ourselves into town. We had been dirty, bedraggled, and wide-eyed, limping the streets in desperation. Terrin was out cleaning the window front of their new business venture and immediately took pity on us. She had a thing for strays, from cats and dogs to apparently humans. Not that she knew we weren¡¯t natural-born elves, which we both now looked like, of course. Terrin¡¯s wife, Jez, had just sighed and pointed us to the runners¡¯ dorm in the converted storage room in the back of their shop. Needless to say, Tess gelled with them from the start, while I was just part of the package. A reluctant one at that. Grateful, but reluctant. I hated exercise way back then, a whole two months ago. Still not a fan, but downgraded to dislike by now.

    It had taken me weeks of chatting up Master Alric to get him to apprentice me. Apprenticing was a big deal here, not undertaken lightly. All sorts of rules and commitments. Plus, I had to show some actual potential and be able to access this world¡¯s [mana]. It took me a cool minute to summon a sufficient amount of the invisible energy of creation, but I did it! With the help of my bioengineering and implants. No mere Human was capable of doing this; not pure-blooded anyway. Seeing the special ink used by [Scrivener]s¡¯ glow with an inner, ethereal light sang in tune with my very soul. Poetic, maybe, but no other description comes close. Oh, the brackets? Those are [System] imposed on my psyche. I try not to see them, but there they are.

    When I announced I¡¯d be leaving J&T, three of the four of us tried to hide their enthusiasm while a huge grin took residence on my face. I didn¡¯t care one whit for their fakery of sadness on my leaving. My grin just grew wider, fueled by the poor concealment. The only downside of the new situation was the loss of my living arrangements. And paid for meals. Oops.

    Luckily, an official apprenticeship meant an official code of conduct between Master and Apprentice. This code stipulated an allowance for lodging and food. A small one, subject to the whims of the Master in the picture. Alric wasn¡¯t one to waste a single copper more than necessary on anyone other than himself, but it was still there nonetheless. His own Master¡¯s robe was expertly tailored and made of the finest materials, his pudgy fingers bedazzled with ornate rings, and his rotund belly spoke to his personal expenditures. And like I said, using [mana] burned calories like crazy, so Alric¡¯s physical opulence was a testament to a love of food greater than my own.

    Anyway, Tess and I combined her wages and tips, always high for her and non-existent for me when we¡¯d worked together, and my living stipend. Our moneys pooled together, we rented a tiny apartment roughly equidistant between our jobs. We¡¯d decided we should try and stick together in this new existence of ours.

    Enough history. Time to get to work.

 Chapter 2: Bones, Herbs, and Implants (not that kind, perverts)

    Chapter 2: Bones, Herbs, and Implants (not that kind, perverts)

    The polished bell over the door jingled as I pushed my way inside. That was a good sign, the door being unlocked already. Sometimes Master Alric slept through his scandalizing late opening policy. Again, not that I personally minded, but it was a poor business profile. It wasn¡¯t an immediate problem, though it was tradition for a Master to pass on their venture to the most promising Apprentice. Since I was the only apprentice¡­well, let¡¯s say I have some thoughts rattling around in the recesses of my head.

    ¡°Master Alric?¡± I called out.

    ¡°You¡¯re late!¡±

    Huh?

    ¡°I swear to the Mother of Trees, if you persist in showing this little regard for your training, Book, I¡¯ll¡­¡± He trailed off. Maybe he was reminded of his habitual tardiness; maybe he just got distracted. He does that a lot, a curse of his brilliant mind. At least, that was what he usually claimed.

    I wrestled with my incredulity, and yes, annoyance, doing my best to tamp it down. I¡¯ve been told that I wear my emotions on my face. This early in my apprenticeship, there was no time to put my master¡¯s back up. I¡¯d been the one to beg him for this chance, after all, and I had a long way to go before I could even think about setting out on my own. And pay for my lodgings and food, both of which have been established that I greatly enjoy.

    ¡°Yes Master, I¡¯ll do better,¡± I replied, trying to mollify him. If he even noticed. ¡°What would you have me work on today?¡±

    Boy, it was hard calling someone ¡®Master¡¯. My modern (at least in my mind) upbringing cringed every time I said it. When in Rome, so on and so on.

    ¡°What? Umm¡­¡± he started, before visibly taking control of his thoughts. ¡°Ink. I need more ink.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t we just make some last week?¡± I asked. And by ¡®we¡¯, I meant him as I watched.

    ¡°No,¡± he replied. ¡°That was good stuff, for proper scrolls. I need cheap stuff, a lot of it.¡± Alric cast a side look at me, condescension a familiar fit across his doughy features. ¡°You know, the stuff you¡¯re good at making.¡±

    Deep breath; blank face.

    ¡°Yes, Master.

    I wanted to ask why he needed ''a lot'' of the cheap stuff. He usually prides himself on the quality of his own work. Not mine, of course. I must not have kept the question off of my features, and he spoke again.

    ¡°If you must know,¡± he started. ¡°I¡¯ve taken a contract for fifty scrolls of [torchlight].¡±

    Fifty scrolls? Wow.

    ¡°Due by the start of Seven-day.¡± He wrinkled his forehead, pulling at one of his great mustachios. Both were clear signs of his stress.

    I understood why, too. The start of Seven-day? The Elves on Planet EH-103¡ªI have got to find a better name, even if only in my head!¡ªlived a nine-day week. Seven on; two off. Alric¡¯s week consisted more of maybe five days on, the rest off. Today was One-day, so this meant we¡¯d be scrambling for seven days straight. Oh, again, I just love those Elven naming conventions! One-day to Nine-day. At least I always know how many days till the weekend.

    ¡°Well, don¡¯t just stand there,¡± he said, his sudden glance eliciting a jump start in me. ¡°Go!¡±

    I gave a formal bow, hands clasped together over my heart and bending stiffly at the waist, and scarpered to the back room where all the materials were stored. The beaded curtain clattering in my wake, I paused to surveil the room. There were multiple rows of freestanding shelves, some partitioned into cubicles of ascending size. These were populated with crystal bottles in individual cubbies fit to their size, ranging from the tiniest of bottles, no more than an inch in height, to pint-sized ones. Each contained an ink hand-crafted by Master Alric himself. His pride and joy, more children than product.

    Other shelves held bins of the highest quality ingredients. There were dried flowers, herbs, and plants stored in open baskets, as well as air-tight glass boxes. Some were translucent, and others opaque These were for the more sensitive products. Live vegetation grew in a variety of pots and planters, most under sun-gems mounted above them. A few in a darkness so total only magic could achieve it. Even a few live¡­organisms¡­secured in tanks of water and various other mediums. I tried not to look too closely at these. Watering the plants, no biggie. Some things had to be fed, though, and what better assignment for an apprentice to oversee? Ugh, lucky me.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Ignoring all of the more expensive items, I threaded my way through the aisles and headed for what appeared to be a utility closet in the far corner. This was where my ingredients were kept. Yep, a whole broom closet just for little ol¡¯ me. I¡¯m happy it wasn¡¯t a walk-in refrigerator at some fast food joint back home. Been there, done that.

    I¡¯m extremely grateful for that aspect of my new home world. Making it as a professional writer while paying off student loans would have been much harder on Earth. It took both luck and persistence, on top of any actual talent or skill, to make it. Unless you were born into money (not me) you still had to make a living somehow, someway. I suppose I could have gone to work at a Barnes & Noble with my English degree, I wouldn¡¯t be the only one, but it was getting harder and harder to find a real brick-and-mortar store in the digital age. Here, I suppose it would be stone and timber. At least it wasn¡¯t wattle and daub! Ha, I crack me up.

    Focus, man! Back to work. Time to make the donuts. Soonest begin, soonest don¡­if distraction was the sign of brilliance, I¡¯d be diamond rank for sure.

    Sighing, I took in what my closet had to offer. Master Alric provided me with the most basic ingredients, as per the Master-Apprentice code, but anything fancier would have to come out of my monthly stipend. Now, it may sound like Alric was the worst Master in existence, but in reality, Master Alric would fall firmly in the upper-middle class of Masters. From what I¡¯d heard, some were the epitome of actual slave drivers. Besides, let¡¯s not forget the time-honored convention of gripping about the boss. It was an underling¡¯s, or in my case an Apprentice¡¯s, prerogative. Nay, not just a prerogative, but a fundamental aspect of a healthy psyche. Who¡¯s to argue with evolution? Not even bioengineering could change that.

    Speaking of, I gave a mental push to the implants nestled behind my eyes. Reading my intention, the HUD plastered across my vision lit up with a bright green overlay. The words labeling everything in my sight typed themselves out one letter at a time. The style looked straight out of the 1980s, ripped from an ancient, 64-bit computer. That old movie, ¡®Wargames¡¯, always pops into my mind when I see it. When my dad made me watch it, I¡¯d laughed uproariously through the whole thing. I knew it was supposed to be a serious take on hacking. If that was true, I could have hacked NORAD back when I was six, just like anyone of my generation. I could have done it with my phone, for Christ¡¯s sake! It¡¯s a wonder how the world survived us human caretakers and made it through the turn of the century.

    Enough of that. The last thing I needed right now was reminders of home and family. I don¡¯t need any misty eyes blurring the Orcish high-tech I¡¯d been blessed with. I had a new home now, and I guess I could call Tess family, even if not in the way I¡¯d used to dream of. I was firmly in the friend zone there. We both knew how I felt about that, an unspoken awkwardness hanging over our heads like a dangling sword. If mentioned out loud, it could sever the fragile balance we both clung to so we could survive our new ¡®normal¡¯.

    Brushing a forearm across my eyes, irritated from the dust no doubt¡ªDust I say!¡ªI forced myself to concentrate. Outlines traced around the ingredients needed for a basic, magic ink, the kind used for¡ªguess what!¡ªbasic scrolls. A dim green, back-lit glow pulsed to the rhythm of my heartbeat behind the outlines. It was more than useful when shopping for items where the only lighting was what you brought yourself. It saved me from using my personal supply of [torchl!ght] scrolls.

    The recipe pulled up along the right side of my sight, under the mini-map floating there. Shopping list: charred and ground gryphon''s bones, boiled and reduced linseed oil, deer-hoof glue, clear varnish, liquid paraffin, and silver-leaf pigment. All this for the base. Next, I needed a couple of pinches of sulfur and potassium nitrate for that certain, sparkling burn. By far, my favorite part was seeing the parchment flash and smoke as the ink burned through. Pure awesomeness!

    Making a basket by hiking up my robes and pouching them at my waist, I held the fabric with one hand and started grabbing items with the other. I had to slow down after a minute, ash coloring my midsection from knocking the lid off a jar. There goes another handful of coppers getting my robes laundered. At least I caught it before needing to replace the whole jar. Gryphon¡¯s bone wasn¡¯t exactly expensive. Did I really just say that? Gryphon¡¯s bone?! Still, at this stage in my life every penny, or copper, mattered.

    I took my loot, with the addition of a large crystal carafe, to my workstation. The hardwood tabletop was scarred and pitted from spills. Not all mine. Master Alric got it used, of course. One leg looked like it used to belong to some mannequin. Not creepy at all. It was perfectly level though. Exactingly level. Alric was a genuine Master, as well as cheap. He demanded perfection in the execution of all wares originating from his shop. Great for learning, if annoying in practice.

    I grabbed a mortar and pestle that I kept in the upper left corner of the worktable. There was a ring-shaped scar from a former owner etched into the wood, making it the perfect resting spot. Chipped and made from pink marble, this muller was the new constant in my life as a [Scrivener]. Getting to work, I let my mind start to wander during the now-familiar process of making ink by hand.

    Exactly how much did Master Alric mean by ¡®a lot¡¯ of ink?

 Chapter 3: *Dings*, Drop-downs, and Deductions

    Chapter 3: *Dings*, Drop-downs, and Deductions

    I lost myself to the assigned task of making ¡®a lot¡¯ of the ¡®cheap stuff¡¯ I was ¡®good at making.¡¯ No self-esteem issues here. The practice was good. Each vial of ink I made came faster than the one before. The quality went up, too. Soon, it might be good enough to graduate to ¡®average¡¯ quality. I¡¯m tempted to make a joke here, something about ¡®lofty goals¡¯ or ¡®low bars¡¯, but that was too self-defeating for the new me. I¡¯d spent some time in therapy, dealing with depression and low self-esteem, but never really put the tools I learned to a serious test. Now, I was determined. The first tenet I learned was to take small bites. As in, turn the big things into multiple small things. Baby steps, no matter how overplayed that was. So, that was what I did here. Concentrate on improving one batch of ink at a time, and be satisfied with any small improvements.

    Each vial took about an hour to mix properly. Then it had to cure, preferably overnight. Next came the more time-consuming part. Infusing the [mana]. It was the most taxing. Since I was a beginner at this part, manipulating the [mana], I wasn¡¯t as efficient as I could be. Yet. Baby steps; little victories. This was all to say that the first day passed relatively quickly. I made a total of eight vials of the silvery mixture.

    I didn¡¯t see much of my Master the first day, or One-day. Grunt work wasn¡¯t one of his strong points. That was what I was for. Probably the main reason he agreed to take me on as his official Apprentice. My gain, so no complaints here. At least not real ones. Only ritualistic gripping.

    Two-day came, and I made double sure I was not just on time, but early. Which meant getting up.

    ¡°Gah,¡± I cried. A great weight stabbed into my stomach, the breath whooshing out of me. ¡°What the ever-loving fu¡­¡±

    ¡°Whan, whan, whan!¡± Tess¡¯s face was inches from mine. Her grin stretched wide, little crinkles and laugh lines prominent. ¡°Get up, get up. I¡¯m an alarm!¡±

    Right. I did ask for this. No smart devices here.

    ¡°Knee! Tess, your knee!¡±

    She looked down, seeing the offending joint jabbing me square in the gut. ¡°Oops, sorry about that.¡¯ Her grin said something very different. ¡°You said to get you up early today, so. Not my fault.¡±

    Un-huh, sure. ¡°Don¡¯t remember asking for the rabbit punch to the kidney.¡± I looked out of the small half-window set high on the wall of my room. Darkness, nary hint of sunshine. ¡°God¡ªI mean, Mother of Trees¡ªwhat time is it?¡±

    ¡°30 minutes to sunrise. Plenty of time for some carbohydrate loading. Oatmeal?¡±

    I sent her my best indignant glare. Tess laughed.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± I went to rub my face, suddenly noticing how very close she still was. There was no room for awkwardness between us, so I heaved up and twisted. The abrupt movement sent Tess sprawling off my bed, depositing her firmly on her butt. The smack of her glutes meeting the wood floors sent Tess off on another round of giggles.

    ¡°Damn, dude. I¡¯m going feel that all day!¡±

    ¡°Good. Anyone this happy before the crack of dawn deserves it. Morning people,¡± this last I said with all the disgust I could muster.

    ¡°Pfft, night people,¡± she returned.

    ¡°Go ¡¯way, let me wake up.¡±

    She arched to her feet, not quite doing the whole martial arts kip-up move. If I tried that, you might as well post it under epic fails.

    Once the door closed behind her, I spoke my mantra to the universe.

    ¡°We never should have crossed that damned field.¡±

    <hr>

    I reached the door to ¡°Papers and Powers¡± with the morning sun finally casting shadows on the cobbles of Parchment Lane. Another apt example of naming. In addition to Master Alric¡¯s shop, there were more storefronts bolstering the theme. Quill and ink shops, both magical and mundane; paper and parchment vendors, including a parcheminier; a surprisingly busy poet; one other [Scrivener], who was naturally a rival; and a traditional, non-magic scribe (notice the lack of [bracket]s). Mister Wordsworth, the scribe who owned ¡°Wordsworth¡¯s¡±, was a frail-looking oldster. His hand, though. It was as steady as a metronome counting time. Smooth, efficient, and ever flowing. It was said his ancestor was the first to open a shop here, coining the name for the street. I¡¯d tried talking him into an apprenticeship at first, me wanting to be a writer and all that. He¡¯s the one who suggested trying my hand at magic scrolls, so Master Alric¡¯s had been the next logical stop, And, wallah! Here I was. I¡¯d almost gone to the poet¡¯s¡­bleck! That¡¯s how desperate I was to get out of the [Courier] game. Imagine, what if I ended up with the official class?

    I turned the knob, meeting the resistance of a [mana] lock. Expensive, but worth it, what with all of the rare and potent materials most [Scrivener]s kept on hand. Not for the first time, I had to use my ability to manipulate [mana] so I could release the locking mechanism.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    ¡°Take a deep breath, center yourself,¡± I muttered. I needed to stop thinking out loud, but time should fix that particular idiosyncrasy. Time wounds all heels, and such. Following the instructions to myself, I quieted my being and reached. The energy of the lock firmed itself in my mind, asking a question of intent. I formed the image of my apprenticeship token, a golden coin I never went without, and answered with it. Click. The lock released, letting the knob turn smoothly in my hand.

    *Ding!*

    Yes, a bell sounded in my head. In stereo, even. Every day I wish there was a way for it to play my mp3 collection. That¡¯d be sweet. I miss music. Rock, pop, or even hip-hop, doesn¡¯t matter. The local bard-style variety was OK, but I could use some Scandinavian metal as personal theme music. Peter be damned, I refuse to learn from his lesson.

    *A new $pell has been learned to completion. You may now use [Apprenticeship Unlock; common] by selecting !t from the drop-down [Spell-slot] menu.*

    [Apprenticeship Unlock; common]: As the official Apprentice to Master [Scrivener] Alric, allowing entry to any sp@ce locked by the named Master. Apprenticeship token required.

    The words spelled themselves out one letter at a time in their funky green script. They were just there, hovering in my vision, looking solid enough to touch. I almost reached out, only restraining myself by my experience with the floating dialog boxes. I was living in a freaking LitRPG novel. The drop-down menu I was familiar with, having learned to place filters on my mini-map. I didn¡¯t need a trace outline of every living thing in my line of sight, including rats, mice, and stray cats. But [spell-slot]s?

    A little folder icon sat in the lower left field of my HUD. I mentally poked it, and a new transparent window opened in my sight. The words started out as gibberish, what I took to be Orcish, but after some mild pressure on the brain, they morphed into English for me. I wasn¡¯t worried. This happens every time I unlock a new function of the implants. The first time felt like I had burst an aneurysm, my dying moments counting down in throbbing pulses. It might have been interesting to see what my 3rd life would be like, but I was already on this one. This second time around seemed to have potential. I did miss my family, especially my Dad. My brother and two sisters were significantly older than me, and while we loved each other, had little common ground. I was a¡ªhappy¡ªsurprise later in my parent¡¯s life. That, and after we lost Mom, it had been just the two of us. I¡¯m sure he misses me terribly, the uncertainty of my disappearance had to be the worst part. He still had his books to keep him company. Nothing compared to my scintillating repartee, of course. However, he was the first one to call me Book.

    The next time the Orc implants played foreign scrabble with my head, was when I discovered the [mini-map]. That put my worst hangover ever to a cryin'' shame. Which I did. Cry. Totally worth it, in my opinion. What¡¯s a little puking between friends? The hovering tooltip has since paid for itself many times over. More so for Tess. She ran all over the maze of this city for her job as a [Courier]. I no longer got lost descending the apartment stairs.

    Today¡¯s brain hug felt like I''d had one too many glasses of red wine last night. Bearable, if you squinted just right. Once the menu finished translating itself, I could see three spell slots. One was already filled with [Apprenticeship Unlock], but the other two were available. I just had no idea how to go about filling them. I couldn¡¯t ask any of the few Elves I knew, either. They simply lived with magic, the [mana] inherent from birth. There were Mage schools, that¡¯s where Master Alric learned his art. I somehow doubted that any of the curriculum taught the inner workings of Orc-tech. I¡¯m almost certain that the green-skinned, silver-suited, oversized, twin-tusked¡­ahem. Got away from me there. I had¡­strong¡­ feelings towards my friends and me being (should I say it? I¡¯m gonna say it) ABDUCTED. Yeah, they were so going to invade this world.

    We¡¯d long speculated, Tess and I, what the point was in taking us. There had been five of us, including Steve, Carmen, and the girl Carmen talked into following the rest of us home. ¡°We never should have crossed that damned field,¡± threatened to play on repeat in my head. I quashed it. No place for it, aside from wakey time. If I let it run rampant, like I had the first couple of days, there¡¯d be no respite. Nothing getting done, when there was a whole world to investigate. My therapist would be proud. Anyhow (remember the whole distraction = brilliance argument?), we tried to put the pieces together. Snippets, and overseen task lists and blueprints, woven together. The very first program uploaded after the implants was the translation one. It was one helluva real-time, AI-generated platform. Every smartphone company exec. and application developer in existence would sell their left nut/ovary to own the rights.

    From what we could gather, we were guinea pigs. Simple as that. The aliens needed test subjects, so they took us. We figured it was a crime of opportunity. That was our working theory, anyway. Why we were altered biologically, sophisticated technology surgically placed in our brains and bodies, and were brought to orbit over a world of Elves and magic, in a flying saucer¡ªmanned?¡ªcrewed by Sci-Fi Orcs. They were green, but not little. And I had no idea if their ship was a saucer. What we did know for certain was that our new hardware allowed us to sense, see (sometimes), and use [mana]. Now? Now I had actual spell slots.

    I couldn¡¯t wait to get home to Tess, and let her know about this discovery. I¡¯d floated the idea of levels to her since we had classes. [Class], in full brackets. Tess was a [Courier], coming with boons related to physical endurance and speed. I, of course, was a [Scrivener; Apprentice]. It only made sense for levels to follow, whether numbered, colored, or named was to be seen.

    A glint caught my eye, sunlight reflecting off Mister Wordsworth¡¯s windowed front door as he opened up for the day. I knew I¡¯d beat him to the open, but I still hadn¡¯t opened the door before me. I¡¯m sure I looked the complete idiot. How long had I been standing here, frozen with one hand on the doorknob, and most likely slack-jawed, as my intellect chased its synapses round and round? I so need to find some real people to talk to. My head was getting crowded.

    Is that smoke I smell?

 Chapter 4: Smoke, Lectures, and Holding on Tight

    Chapter 4: Smoke, Lectures, and Holding on Tight

    ¡°Smoke?¡±

    I took a couple of sniffs, inhaling an acrid scent. I paused for a second, fearful that my implants had finally fried my brain. Pushing that aside, I threw my weight against the front door to ¡°Papers & Powers¡±. I took a half stumble inside, listening for the crackle of flames. I heard something, but it was more of a rustle, and it came from the small tea and snack station Master Alric had wedged in the corner. It was hidden behind a tall display case, showcasing a diploma and listing prices of available scrolls.

    I recognized the wafting smell of burnt sugar. A few calm breaths and my heart slowed, no longer a frantic bird trapped in a cage. In fact, it was too easy. Tess thought her heart had been modified, and I¡¯m inclined to believe it. That quick of a drop was not natural.

    I rounded the back of the display case, knowing what I¡¯d see. Master Alric; mussed hair, fly-away beard, and jam-stained fingers. He stood there, blinking owlishly, with a mug of sugar-laden tea in one hand and what I¡¯d call an English muffin smothered in an orange spread in the other. A heating stone, complete with glowing orange rings just like an electric stove top, was boiling off black smoke from the charred sugar coating it. He always put a hefty amount of sugar in his tea, enough that it left a thick sludge in the bottom of the mug. Sludge that inevitably slopped over the side. Bubbles grew and burst as I watched. What was my Master doing here so early in the morning?

    Like most shop owners, Alric lived in the second story above the storefront. I¡¯d never been up there, but I had seen him come down the stairs. This, though, was the first I¡¯d seen such behavior before opening hours. His unkempt state was another new sight for me. His graying beard and hair were normally brushed and oiled to perfect ringlets. I was jealous of his normal facial hair sculpting. How was he able to be late most other days? Talent.

    ¡°Master?¡±

    He continued to blink at me some more. It took longer than I¡¯d expected, but the glaze of a sleepless night began to wear from his eyes. He combed a guilty hand through his beard. Seeing he¡¯d forgotten that he still held his sticky muffin, Alric did a little backward hop and hunch. By that little maneuver, I could tell he¡¯d expected to see the offending breakfast hit the floor. It didn¡¯t. Clinging to his beard was the world¡¯s largest crumb. I made double sure my features were blank. I saved that tidbit for tonight, knowing Tess would find it as amusing as I did. The smallest of smirks on my part would see the long day ahead taking a very different direction.

    ¡°Book?¡± He straightened, clearing his throat. ¡°Ahem. Yes, Book. I see you are finally taking your tutelage seriously. Good, umm¡­yes.¡± He turned with great dignity, the picture of nonchalance as he pulled the sticky mess from its tangle. That¡¯s right, screamed his demeanor. I meant to do that. He gave me a vague wave, cradling his tea and muffin in one hand while picking hairs out of the jam with the other. Then he disappeared up the stairs.

    ¡°O-kay,¡± I said after he was gone. The whole episode dulled some of the shiny off of my [spell-slot]s discovery. Or maybe not. I let my smile free.

    <hr>

    ¡°[Mana] is a living thing, with a will of its own. You can guide it, force it, or even bribe it.¡±

    ¡°Bribe it, Master?¡± I hadn¡¯t heard that before.

    ¡°Yes, Book. Bribe. Like all things living, it has desires. Think of [mana] like a greedy child. Petulant and demanding. But, give it a sweet and it while follow the strangest of strangers.¡±

    That¡­didn¡¯t seem right.

    ¡°What does [mana] want?¡±

    ¡°Everything! Anything!¡± Alric expounded. His passion for the subject charged the elf like nothing else. This was the Alric that had mastered the art of scroll making. ¡°It¡¯s not for the [mana] to tell you, it¡¯s for you to know it!¡±

    I had kind of expected something else. More Zen and the Art of Calligraphy. When I tested with the Master for the opportunity to train under him, I had taken more of a ''pretty-pretty please work for me'' attitude. And it had worked. That was still the way it worked for me. I could see [mana] as shimmery dust motes in the air. Then I reached out with my intention and asked them to respond. I formed a mental picture of what I wanted, and if they agreed I could see a purplish silver stream coalesce with my HUD. It then flowed into what I wanted to be infused. It had worked well enough for me.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Today, Master Alric walked into the back to check on my progress in mass-producing ink for him to use in fulfilling the big contract. He couldn¡¯t get to his part until I finished mine, so I didn¡¯t blame him. I also didn¡¯t blame him for not wanting to use a more refined, more expensive ink for the batch of fifty [torchlight] scrolls. The right ingredient for the right job.

    Unlike this morning, he had turned up in immaculate shape. I guess he was making up for the state I had found him when I thought the place was about to burn down. His Master¡¯s robe was dyed a deep cerulean blue that would make the oceans jealous. It was trimmed in an ethereal silver embroidery, the exact same shade of a high-quality [Scrivener]s ink. His heavy, dark hair, with just enough gray tempering it to be stately, fell in flowing waves. The ringlets of his beard glistened lightly with oil, not a single stray curl. His image could used for a recruiting poster.

    Too far? He did enjoy spending money on himself. He earned it, so why not? I could still wish he¡¯d toss a few more coins my way. I¡¯ll have to edit it a bit before rattling it off when he is in a bad mood. Not the money part, of course, but all the other stuff. That¡¯d be a surefire way to diminish my already meager stipend. The rest I want to be believable, hopefully not too rehearsed. I¡¯d need to insert it in as casual a way as possible. Brown nosing 101.

    I hadn¡¯t noticed him at first, despite all the folderol, but he¡¯d noticed me muttering.

    "Pretty-pretty please¡­pretty-pretty please¡­¡± I was saying it like they were the words of a spell. Which they kinda were, in my mind. That started the current lecture.

    ¡°You came late to the [Scrivener] class, I know.¡±

    Late? I was two years past the legal drinking age back in Colorado. Anyone of my generation hardly moved out of the home by now, much less settled in a career.

    ¡°It¡¯s almost as if your parents didn¡¯t initiate you in the ways of the Mother of Trees,¡± he shook his head.

    Whoa, close call. The almost question was rhetorical, thank God. Uh, Mother of Trees. I was getting better, but still slipped up in my thoughts. I was better at it than Tess.

    ¡°You will get it, son. Try this. Every night, when you crawl under the covers, pull in all the [mana] you can manage and just¡­,¡± he paused a beat. ¡°Hold it.¡±

    ¡°Hold it?¡±

    ¡°Don''t do anything with it, don¡¯t try to control it. Just hold. No shaping, no studying. Just hold. Try not to even think.¡± A grin tugged one side of his mouth up.

    ¡°I know, I know,¡± I said, my own grin forming. ¡°Easy enough for me.¡±

    ¡°Easy enough for you.¡± There was no sting in it. ¡°Just live with the [mana], no expectations... Not from either of you.¡±

    I knew that [mana] was a living thing (try NOT to think of the Force), every elf I¡¯ve met spoke of it, but this seemed to be something more. Master Alric spoke as if it had its own will. Self-aware, even. As soon as I thought about it, my implant pulsed. What¡­the¡­hell? For a brief moment, I¡¯d swear that the composite of software-ruled hardware fitted to my synapses had agreed with me. Not in just a fact-checking manner, either.

    ¡°Do this every night,¡± he continued. ¡°As your capacity to hold [mana] increases, be sure to increase your pull to fill it all the way. Then, when you find your grip still holding firm to the same amount you started with, on waking the next morning, come see me. We¡¯ll work on the next steps after that.¡±

    There was a reason I stuck with Master Alric, despite my regular grumblings. That passionate, impromptu lecture was everything. It wasn¡¯t the first one, either. I didn¡¯t only mix ink and do chores, depleting my [mana] reserves with the constant infusions I performed. Or feed tiny unspeakable things to larger unspeakable things. Fending off some of those plants while caring for them could be downright dangerous, too. He had also told me back in the beginning that it would be this way for the immediate future. That I would only dip quill in ink and pour intent into parchment when he deemed me ready. And that I should never ask before my time. A strict no-pestering policy.

    With my lesson in the mysteries of bribing [mana] over, Alric went back to checking my work. He dipped his little finger in a half-full ink pot and brought it close to eyeball it. A grunt let me know it was passable. He then measured the emptiness from the viscous fluid to the rim of the oversized mixing carafe. The frown following that up said I needed to make more.

    Master Alric left me to it.

    Wait, did he call me ¡®son¡¯?

    <hr>

    ¡°So there he was, a trash cat caught in the light, English muffin glued to his face.¡± I guffawed. The laughter shook me hard, inviting Tess to join the amusement. I was so caught up that I failed to see her reaction. Or lack of one.

    ¡°Yeah, great one.¡±

    The flat tone took me a moment to register. When it did, I continued to shake a little, my body taking longer to catch up with my mind than it probably should. Where were my entrancements now, huh, when I needed them?

    ¡°Tess?¡±

    She began to shake herself, but not in laughter. Great, wracking sobs overtook my only true friend in this world. She was my person, and she was hurting. I didn¡¯t even need to ask why. It was always right there, just beneath the surface for both of us. How could it not be?

    I put my arms around her, holding tight. [Mana] wasn¡¯t the only thing that needed to be clung to tonight.

 Chapter 5: Trivia, Bone-drills, and Puke

    Chapter 5:  Trivia, Bone-drills, and Puke

    When: Some time ago¡­

    Where:  ¡­that damned field

    ¡°Eyes, dude, eyes!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, Tess,¡± I said. ¡°I know now, OK?¡±

    ¡°Ha! How dumb can you be, Book?¡± Tess had been ribbing me. This from Steve was a whole different tone. ¡°You said ears, man. You think every baby born looks like freakin¡¯ Dumbo?! Heh, dumb-Dumbo.¡±

    Like he had known the answer. I distinctly remember him muttering that everybody knew eyes could grow. Mikasa Ackerman¡¯s eyes did it all the time. It made her even more hot!

    Who was the dumb-Dumbo?

    I wanted to say something, I really did. Maybe along the lines of, you''re the one who confuses Anime with real life, or Anime eyes aren¡¯t real. It wasn¡¯t the best of burns, especially as I lurked some of the same fan sites as the jock did. I knew the big-eyed girls were idealized and not sitting around at an as-yet-undiscovered sorority somewhere. Instead of Alpha Kappa Alpha, it would be Iota Sanpaku Iota. Also, at least I tried answering the trivia questions, instead of just sitting there with my hand creeping lower and lower down Tess¡¯s back. Steve was a lump. A hugely muscled lump, so, you know, I kept my mouth shut.

    ¡°Dumb-Dumbo-o-o-o,¡± singsonged the girl Carmen had dragged from the bar with us. Couldn¡¯t remember her name. Nicky? Kitty? No.

    ¡°Aw, babe, don¡¯t.¡± Carmen pulled the girl in close, the two stumbling together as we trekked across the uneven ground of the convenient, open field. The giggling blonde had sworn to us that this was a shortcut back to campus. Their staggering was most definitely aided along by the booze we¡¯d been ordering non-stop. You can¡¯t do trivia night without much beer. The bar tab was so big, that if Carmen hadn¡¯t offered to cover it, I would¡¯ve had to beg my Dad for help with next month¡¯s rent. Carmen was a real go-to person.

    ¡°Book¡¯s one of the good ones, babe,¡± Carmen said. That was two ¡®babes¡¯ in a row. Guess they were a bit fuzzy on the whole name thing, too.

    ¡°Yay, good book,¡± ¡®Babe¡¯ replied, still in that annoying sing-song. ¡°I read a good book once! Hehehe!¡±

    Yeah, never heard that one before. I would be surprised if the girl had read more than one book in her life. OK, not nice. In my defense, I was the only one here that wasn¡¯t paired up tonight. Steve and Tess had been a couple since the first year of college. They¡¯d met at some orientation for sports-type people. I was¡­busy, that night. Ahem. As for Carmen, well, was the term player still used?

    Tess and I knew each other from high school, but never like that. Too bad, from my point of view. We¡¯d been in all of the same honors classes together, so when we ran into each other during freshman orientation, we bonded over that history. Familiarity breeds comfortability. Not an accurate quote, but I liked mine better. We''d been hanging out since. When Steve started coming around too, I just smiled and endured. I actually introduced the big guy to some Anime. Not my fault he went down the rabbit hole and started losing himself to it. I¡¯d heard his obsession had even started to affect his performance on the field. For a kid here on a football scholarship, that could be a real problem. But not my problem. No guilt.

    Nope, none at all.

    Carmen just appeared one day, attached to us, and never went away. A trust-fund baby, so no complaints here.

    ¡°¡¯What is the only part of the human body that is full grown from birth?¡¯ Slayed by basic anatomy¡­¡±

    ¡°Not to mention common sense..¡± Tess inserted with a grin.

    ¡°¡­this humble book has been truly burnt.¡± I shook my head, the remorse only partially faked.

    ¡°Book, and book burnings, ahaha¡­¡± Yeah, Steve. We all got the joke. ¡°Better stay away from those censoring fanatics!¡±

    Like I wouldn¡¯t anyway. Books bordered on the sacred for me. That was probably my best-loved trait that I¡¯d picked up from my Dad. Not just his den, but the whole house was a dedicated shrine. He even claims to have read every single book kept in the house. Anyone who saw his shelves should be suitably impressed by that. My collection was smaller, but I had great hopes for its future growth. If Dad ever had the chance to place one written by myself on those revered shelves, we¡¯d both be fit to shed some tears. More than a few, in truth.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Unh¡­unh..¡± Babe stopped stumbling and froze in place, bent over. Carmen let go of her and backed off so fast I don¡¯t think I actually saw him move. He was arm-in-arm with Babe, then six feet away and out of the splash zone. There was no in-between.

    ¡°Yarrhgg..¡± Babe lost it. I still couldn¡¯t put a name to her, I¡¯m embarrassed to admit.

    We all stood stock still, afraid to move. The littlest unbalance, and we¡¯d all be yaking next to the unfortunate girl. Me especially. That gagging noise could really get to m¡­urk!

    I dropped to the ground, bruising my knee and tearing a hole in my jeans. There I go, a human hydrant. After a moment, I felt a hand on my back, rubbing it in small circles. Tess. Had to be her. I could see Carmen finally inching over to Babe, obligation written largely in every movement. And that booming laugh echoing in time with the throbbing in my head, that had to be Steve. Add in the high-pitched whine coming out of nowhere, and I wanted to die.

    In fact, the whine was escalating something fierce. I turned my head, trying to find it, the sudden motion causing the world to spin. I saw flashes all around me, a constant motion that added to my sickness.

    Grunts joined the screeching whine, little staccato barks. It sounded almost like language, but nothing I¡¯d ever encountered before. Tess clutched me, going to the ground by my side. I spit the sick out of my mouth, clutching her back. The barking grunts got louder, closing in on us.

    ¡°J-Jasper,¡± Tess whispered, her tone low and afraid. She never used my given name. Not a good sign.

    I blinked hard, trying to clear the involuntary tears from losing my dinner, and a lot of beer. I wasn¡¯t much of a drinker.

    My vision was fuzzy, and the ever-increasing whine, akin to tinnitus on steroids, pierced through me. More than the alcohol sloshing in a stomach squarely in the throes of a sympathetic response (you puke, I puke) was making me sick. Vertigo threatened to take me down completely.

    My vision was moments from going to full-on shutdown mode, blacking out from the edges on in. It threatened to take my hearing along for the ride, too. Before the pair of senses could desert me, I heard a ragged cry, then a scream and a thud. I twisted our bodies around, Tess still clinging to me. Steve was on the ground a few yards away, clutching a busted arm to his chest. It bent in way too many directions.

    The linebacker had bounced off the creature standing over him. The thing had to top Steve by half a foot at least, its muscles bulging at the seams of a tight, silver suit. A bald head, covered in muddy green skin, sported over-sized ears and jutting tusks. It held a pistol of sorts, the barrel flaring into a small saucer on the end with a parabolic antenna sticking out. I couldn¡¯t focus on anything else. It was too much.

    An Orc in a spacesuit, holding a Flash Gordon ray gun and standing over a downed football player. Next, Queen was going to start playing in the background.

    What¡­the¡­fu¡­?¡±

    <hr>

    Weightlessness took hold first, Tess slowly drifting apart from me. Steve floated in the near distance. Not too far away, but not too close. I don¡¯t why that mattered to me. Nonsensical. Carmen and the puking girl, they were there too. Vomit trailed the poor woman. Huh, that should be funny. Shouldn¡¯t it? I couldn¡¯t laugh.

    Stars spun above me, constellations circling the drain of the heavens¡¯ like bubbles in a bathtub. Or the swirl of the Milky Way. A great shadow, blacker than the night sky, hove into view. It obliterated all around it as it grew to encompass my whole vision. The fires of the stars blinked out, one by one, extinguished by the heavy solidness of the shadow. Everything turned black.

    White. The whole world was white. The seams of the walls melted together, no sharp angles visible anywhere. The white of a padded room, soft, bouncy floors. Clouds? No, what was that word¡­nonsensical. One spot of red, so vivid it fixated me. A bloody knee. Where were my newly torn jeans? They had been expensive. Was I naked?

    Impressions of faces, green and snaggle-toothed. Warm hands, clad in smooth and slick latex. Or rubber. Bare skin? Screams echoed off of the now silver walls. Every angle was sharp and angry, ready to slice. Was I screaming? I think so. Mine was the middle-range scream. Not too low, not too high. That mattered to me, but I don¡¯t know why. It shouldn¡¯t be funny. I laughed.

    Consciousness came in jagged fits and starts. Flashes of bright lights blinded me, the feel of cold, bare steel kissing my naked skin. Pain in my head. Oh my God, the pain! Something was boring a hole through my skull, and not figuratively. I heard the spinning whine of a drill, its bit throwing off fine bone dust that clogged my sinuses. I could smell the friction heat. Hot liquid dribbled down the slope of my nose, pooling in the corner of my eye before tracing past my lips. I tasted it; salt and iron.

    I couldn¡¯t move anything, couldn¡¯t even blink my eyelids to clear the blood. Complete paralysis. There was no air in my lungs. I couldn¡¯t breathe. I can¡¯t breathe¡­ can¡¯t breathe!

    <hr>

    I woke. Tess slept in the circle of my arms, her breathing slow and regular. My heart was pounding, the dregs of my dream still flowing through my body. Slow, just slow down. I focused on my surroundings, cataloging what I could see, and feel. The fabric of the second-hand couch that had come with the apartment. The off-white paint on the walls, with a mystery stain high up in one corner. I saw a rabbit¡¯s head, and Tess saw a butterfly. The tiny kitchen with magically artificed appliances mimicking those I grew up with.

    The pleasant weight of another human¡ªthe only other human¡ªresting on me like a weighted blanket. A patch of bare skin, brown and silky smooth, where her shirt had risen slightly at the waist.

    My heartbeat stepped up a beat faster.

    A warm shaft of sunlight bathed the two of us, doing its best to take away some of the bone-deep chill that had followed me from the nightmare of remembrance. Starting to get poetic, again. Fear and longing would do that to a person.

    Ricki. Her name, ¡®Babe¡¯, was Ricki. I¡¯ll never forget it.

    ¡°We never should have crossed that damn field.¡±

 Chapter 6: Lechery (not really), Listening, and Laundry

    Chapter 6: Lechery (not really), Listening, and Laundry

    Tess stirred in my arms, awoken by my morning mantra ritual, no doubt. She blinked a few times, cleaning the sleep gunk and dried tears from her eyes. Clear, she noticed what, or who, she was using as a pillow. A sad smile crossed her features, fleeting, then suddenly morphing into her more natural impish grin.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get too excited, buddy.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t think of it, pal.¡± My reply was oh-so-smooth. ¡°Besides, your head is as heavy as anvil.¡±

    ¡°¡¯Cause my mind is a steel trap, don¡¯t you know?¡±

    ¡°A mouse trap, maybe.¡± This was how we diffused things when it got awkward. She was still resting against me.

    Tess placed one hand against my chest, pushing herself off and coming to a graceful stand. Then, with both hands pushing on her back, she arched into a stretch. I did my best not to stare.

    ¡°Damn,¡± she suddenly said. She gazed out the kitchen window, gauging the growing height of the morning sun. ¡°It¡¯s late!¡±

    By my inexpert judgment, it was no more than an hour past dawn. Sure enough, the clock readout on my HUD agreed. Before the big contact of fifty [torchlight] scrolls had crossed master Alric¡¯s desk, I¡¯d still be snuggly asleep.

    ¡°Go, get ready,¡± I told her. ¡°I¡¯ll reheat some porridge for you.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± she tossed back as she headed to the bath.

    I heard the water running in the shower before I even made it to the kitchen. There, I heated up enough of the gruel for both of us, along with buttered toast. I snagged a couple of the local equivalent to apples, purple-skinned and super sweet, barely managing to get everything placed before Tess reappeared. Her still-wet hair was pulled back into a practical pony, with beads of water darkening her already jet-black curls.

    She shoveled down the thick porridge in moments, carb-fueling for the day of running ahead of her. Holding a piece of toast between her teeth, she shoved the apple in a pocket and threw me a wave of thanks before rushing out of the apartment.

    ¡°Have a good day,¡± I told the closing door.

    I ate my breakfast more sedately, waiting for the scroll of [heat; minor ] in the pipes to recharge. Buying a multi-use scroll able to charge itself hadn¡¯t been cheap, but worth it. If I¡¯d cheaped out and gone for single-use scrolls, I would have had to buy them from Master Alric by the dozens. Even with my Apprentice¡¯s discount, the cost would soon outstrip the higher quality one. I still needed to float my idea of inserting the scrolls directly into the plumbing to the Artisan¡¯s Guild. It would need some sort of quick-change mechanic for it to be practical. I¡¯d work on that after the looming contract was fulfilled.

    Oh, crap! I forgot all about the exercise I was supposed to do last night. Master Alric was bound to ask me about it, and I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll take cradling a friend to sleep as an acceptable excuse.

    <hr>

    He didn¡¯t ask. When I got to the shop, the Master was up and already working. That was three days in a row. I was a proud apprentice. He didn¡¯t even berate me for showing myself after him. He was busy prepping all of the parchment needed for the order. Fifty-three, mid-quality sheets. He always purchased an extra three backups before a batch order. It allowed for the occasional, and only occasional, mistake. Why was it always three? Maybe it was a magical number (School House Rock!). These were rarely needed, he was a master crafter, but the habit helped to keep the shelves stocked with supplies. He often went ahead and made duplicates of whatever was ordered, too. This gave him a continual supply to sell to walk-ins. Especially with something like [torchlight], there was always a need.

    When there wasn¡¯t a contract to work on, he worked on the on-hand supply. There were a few staple scrolls in constant demand by the populace. Not every elf was a mage. They could access [mana], yes, enough to trigger a scroll or magical item. Like you didn¡¯t need to be an electrician to flick a light switch. To become an actual mage, one had to attend a dedicated academy, and have enough potential to pass the entrance exams. I¡¯d thought about trying my hand, but the thought of being utterly scrutinized by examiners and professors made my skin crawl. Who knew what they would find out, or what they would do about it? Even though my implants would undoubtedly give me an upper hand, I couldn¡¯t take the risk.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    In addition to the ever-popular [torchlight]--who didn''t need to see at night? Bats, rats, and...vats? No, that''s a book--there were [heat]ing scrolls of the minor, average, and greater quality. Scrolls of [ch!ll], in all levels, for food storage; [preserve]; [lock] and [unlock]; [purify]. A whole host of them to meet everyday needs. The elves used all these in place of the technology that had developed on Earth. There was pretty much a magical equivalent of most things I was used to. No Internet, smartphones, or video games, sadly. Only practical stuff. There was a gap in the market here for, say, a savvy entrepreneur misplaced from their home world (insert evil laughter).

    ¡°Enough mixing, for now, Book.¡±

    I breathed a sigh of relief. It was going to cost me a fortune to get the stains out of my work robes. Good thing I had two sets.

    ¡°Yes, Mater Alric. Should I start the infusion?¡±

    ¡°Obviously, Book. What else would you be doing?¡±

    Ah, snark. My training would not be complete without it. ¡°Yes, Mater.¡± Always a safe response.

    This was the tricky part. If I screwed up, the ink would be useless. Well, it would still be ink and could be used as such. Just not for magic scrolls. There was only one chance at a successful infusion. Something about creating holes in the individual cells formed from the process, letting out the stored potential. Either it took on a nice, silvery sheen, or turned into a milky gray mess. Alric would sell the latter to Mr. Wordsworth on the cheap, who used it for his apprentices to practice with. He had three of them, all his sons. His youngest, Magali, was in his early teens, so he needed a lot of practice. I sympathized. It made me feel better that some use was made of my failures. By the by, if Mr. Wordsworth was as old as he looked, and Magali as young as he looked, the only thing I have to say is¡­You go, Mr W.!

    Guess what? Time to get to work.

    First, I quieted my thoughts (harder than Master A. would think). Then I opened up my innate wellspring of [mana]. The elves were born with an anatomical organ for this. For me, an artificial receptacle took its place. I have no idea how the technology meshed with natural magic. I did have an advantage, here. My control over the collection of [mana] was regulated with a programmed algorithm, not a ¡®feel¡¯. It also negated the fear of losing too much internal [mana] to leakage. If sloppy, an elf could shave years off of their life force. Could that be why Wordsworth looked so much older than his offspring? That never occurred to me before.

    This was where I¡¯d always let the ambient life energy fill the receptacle on its own. It took considerable time. My artificial storage seemed to hold an immense amount. That larger-than-normal capacity was one of the reasons Master Alric had given in and taken me on as his apprentice. His eyes had about popped out at it. Thinking back to the lecture from yesterday, I wondered if I could take this step more aggressively. How do you bribe an energy, alive or not?

    Bribing, at its core, was the same as coaxing. They both were the art of enticing something to listen to you in return for a reward. The only thing I could think of was purpose. Every living thing needed a reason to not merely exist, but to progress along its individual path. Plants wanted to grow, baby birds wanted to fly, and apprentices wanted to learn. So I did something on the rare side for any student. I listened. Since I learned by listening, I listened to the [mana].

    Except, that wasn¡¯t right. Close, but not on the mark. I was one step too soon. If listening was the teachings of the instructor, that instructor still needed someone to listen to them. There was no point in lecturing in an empty classroom. Right now, my classroom, the internal vessel, was empty. I needed students. And how do you get butts in the seats? You offer them the opportunity for a better future. So, I offered. Come to me, gather in my classroom, and I¡¯ll give you something you desire. A purpose.

    Played the metaphor a little hard. It was also one of those ¡®aha!¡¯ moments, the kind that seem so obvious in the rearview mirror. The trick of it was to take the path for the first time. Once there, you could smack yourself in the forehead for taking so long to get it.

    ¡°I give you purpose" I muttered. If Master Alric thought I was crazy, talking to myself, he did not interrupt. ¡°Potential, for a purpose to come. Join me, gather in my classroom.¡± OK, that last line might have seen Alric raising an eyebrow. I made sure to keep the ongoing chant in my head, and not out loud where I could be judged and found wanting.

    The reservoir filled fast after that. In no time at all, I was primed and ready to deal out a little purpose to the [mana] flooding to me. I cast a side glance at Master Alric. The astonished look in his eyes would feed my ego for days to come. The purpose I gave to the [mana] was a two-step one. Fill this ink with life, and the ink would be used by a Master crafter. One that would in turn impart a greater purpose, a respectable purpose. Even if not flashy, it would be a noble one.

    Craaack!!

    The bulk storage carafe exploded, ink splaying everywhere. It dripped from the ceiling, coated the walls in rorschach images, and pooled in the creases of my second¡ªand only clean!¡ªset of robes. Master Alric¡¯s fine leather slippers were soaked through. A single drop of ethereal silver, high-quality ink clung to the tip of his nose.

    Alric¡¯s eyes slowly uncrossed, their focus shifting from the shining star on the end of his patrician proboscis (he-he, alliteration), and fixed firmly on me.

    ¡°Too much?¡±

    ¡°Too much.¡±

 Chapter 7: Gold (coppers and silvers), [Skill]s, and Bar Graphs

    Chapter 7: Gold (coppers and silvers), [Skill]s, and Bar Graphs

    ¡°How much?¡±

    ¡°Honestly?¡± The young elf behind the counter of the tailor shop smiled to take some of the coming sting away. ¡°It might be wise to pay the extra for the [clean]ing enchantment.¡±

    ¡°Huff. Probably the self-charging one, too.¡±

    ¡°Probably.¡±

    I could see her smile trying to broaden, and how hard she was trying to hold it back. There must be some commission shenanigan going on under the pleasant, slightly flirty expression. Not too heavy on the flirtation, it was only a couple of gold extra. Not that I had any extra gold. Like so many other things in life, it paid to give a little more upfront to save coin later down the road. The problem was, of course, that you had to have the extra to fork out. I debated if Tess might be willing to cover more of the rent this month. Wow, deja vu! I was just thinking about Carmen, and how they used to pick up the tab for our group. The night we¡¯d been taken, I remember having a similar thought. Except I had been thinking about bumming cash from Dad for the rent.

    Going down that rabbit hole wasn¡¯t going to get me anywhere.

    ¡°Pfff,¡± my second sigh of the conversation. ¡°Yeah, go ahead. Give me the self-charging [clean].¡±

    Tess would be alright with it, I think. Of my two robes, the good one was barely presentable. The other was a total loss from my rather, let us say, enthusiastic, ink infusion. Personal breakthrough aside, I was happy Master Alric hadn¡¯t decided to charge me for the damages and loss.

    Man, I¡¯m sick of always being behind the curve when it comes to money. My place as a [Scrivener] would arguably be more profitable than a city [courier], once I was able to take on some side jobs. It was expected of most apprentices to earn some extra coin this way. Technically, it wasn¡¯t allowed. Most Masters tended to turn a blind eye to it, as long as we replaced the majority of supplies used. We did get some leeway. It helped them justify the low stipend given out to us. Kind of like waitresses and bartenders and their ilk, getting paid a ridiculously low wage and having to rely on their tips to survive. Not the best policy to my thinking. Goes against my ¡®a little more up front¡¯ argument.

    ¡°Excellent, young Master.¡±

    Young Master my Lilly-white a¡­Ahem. Definitely a commission-based flirtation.

    ¡°Sure.¡± I was a tad surly. When I began counting out handfuls of copper and silver coins¡ªmostly copper¡ªinstead of actual gold, I could see her smile beginning to crumble a tad. It started at the eyes, then the corners began a gradual sag.

    ¡°One apprentice robe,¡± (what happened to Master?) ¡°and the enchantment. Come back next week, we¡¯ll get you all set then.¡± A clear dismissal.

    I had a week of dingy robes ahead. I added spray-on deodorant to my list of pending inventions. I left ¡°Harmsson & Tak; *enchanted tailors*¡±, and headed home to our little apartment. I guess I¡¯d have breakfast for dinner. Yay, gray gruel. We always bought the rolled oats in bulk.

    <hr>

    Tess agreed to cover me, and I vowed to push myself in training. Reaching the point where Master Alric had enough faith in me to progress from making ink to inking scrolls. I needed to prove myself after yesterday¡¯s fiasco. True to the vow, I had Tess play alarm for me again. Today was Four-day, only three left before the deadline. Alric and I got the day started at the same time. Neither of us brought up what had happened, leaving us short on ink. He went to his prep, and I double-timed it to mixing a carafe¡¯s worth of common ink. I was confident of the ''common'' part now. Or [average], according to the [System] in my head.

    I discovered another drop-down menu last night. I don¡¯t remember a *ding* this time or any floating dialog boxes. There was no way I could have not felt what I affectionately called the ¡®brain hug¡¯. Was that only for spells? No, the [mini-map] had been accompanied by one. It was the first one, in fact. When I explored the menu, it held [skill]s. Begging for my attention, [craft ink; common] was glowing. There above it was [craft ink; poor]. This one was grayed out. So, deduction ensued. ''Common'' was new, ''poor'' old. Following that trail, I must have earned the lesser one back when I started with Master Alric.

    On top of the list of [skill]s, was [translation; superior]. No deduction was needed to figure out that was how we seemed to share a language with the elves. We had known there was some sort of inherent tech that allowed it. We were so frazzled in those first days, we didn¡¯t have the energy to dwell on how we could suddenly understand and be understood by what amounted to an alien race. It always sounded like English to us, and only if we concentrated were we able to realize we weren''t speaking it. We were in desperate need, so no questions were asked. There was no worry-free time to perform a deep dive into our new [System] interface. There was an incomplete feel to the [System] at first, too. A beta version quality. I suspect there was a learning algorithm involved. The [System] felt more awake, now.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    So, the *ding* wasn¡¯t a new feature. That meant [skill]s either wasn¡¯t as important as the others (yeah, that¡¯s a no), or the *ding* feature had evolved after [Skill]s and before [mini-map]. Since [translation; superior] was first on the list, and it had been the first thing we¡¯d used, meant [skill]s had been initiated before we left the flying saucer (it will forever be a saucer in my mind, not even the truth can change that) and set foot on Planet EH-103 (figure out a real name, damn you!). The five of us, when we¡¯d all still been around, had woken up one day in the purest agony any of us had ever felt. That¡¯s when we lost Nicki. No, it was Ricki. I remembered, OK?

    My ¡®brain hug¡¯ quip didn¡¯t sound so funny, anymore.

    That was the first initiation of our [System] implants. [Skill]s could¡¯ve been lost to the furor. Blinding, nerve-rending pain would do that to a person. My brain tingled in remembrance. Was there such a thing as cerebral neuropathy? Maybe a *ding* had played for [skill]s. It wouldn¡¯t have been hard to go unnoticed.

    The case of the mysterious missing *ding*: Solved.

    (Needed to lighten it up a touch. My brain was starting to sweat.)

    Time to rein in the distractions of my brilliance. I gathered material, using the HUD overlay like always. Ground, burnt gryphon bones, boiled linseed oil, etc., etc., mixing carafe, grab the mortar and pestle from its place of honor, and yadayada. I placed it all together on my second-hand, mannequin-legged workstation. Then, I mentally poked the [skill]s drop-down and selected [ink; common]. What happened next was either exhilarating or horrifying. Both, in equal parts. It was great!

    My body took on a life of its own. Limbs reached and hands grabbed, combining with the repositioning of feet and twisting at the waist. (Mixing of tenses and stylings of text. Deal!) It all moved in sync, with no need for conscious manipulation. I watched in first person POV, a large batch of [ink; common] filling the carafe and replacing what I¡¯d ruined before. It was a wild ride.

    Done, I had control of my body again. I leaned in to study the results, letting my HUD overlay spell out the quality.

    *[Scrivener]¡¯s !nk, common quality, 473 ml.

    Crafted by Jasper Bookmyer, Apprentice.

    Bonded by Alric Tavoryn, Ma$ter.*

    Nice. Yes, the Orcs used metric measurement. It made more sense, scientifically. Easier to use, and more accurate. It was no secret why it was used by virtually every country on Earth. Unfortunately, I was from the one country that didn¡¯t. But--a big score for us Earthly neophytes--the elves used their own version of the imperial system. Makes sense, for me, in a world that developed down a different path than that of a techno-centric one. Base ten may be more practical, but the first person to need a specific measurement would''ve used something like, say, their foot. A medieval/fantasy culture had no real reason to deviate from this. That was a sticky point for me in most fantasy novels, and I have read a lot of them. Picked it up from dear ol¡¯ Dad. I always made sure to never say anything of this sort when I attended writing conferences, especially online ones. The international and, yuck, practical crowds would have lynched me. My secret, nobody will ever know.

    Distractions. Again. I wonder, do the [healer]s here have a version of Ritalin?

    The giddiness wore off fast, my energy levels crashing. Oh, this sucks. I felt more tired than I had any right to. Way more tired than I normally was after making a batch. It seemed the shortcut was easier, faster, and quality guaranteed. Then it knocked me on my butt. I sat down, the hard stool under me a blessing. I rarely used the thing, it was uncomfortable, and Master Alric was the type to eschew sitting for anyone under him. A common archetype for bosses the world¡ªgalaxy? Universe?¡ªover.

    Was the trade-off worth it? In this case, that was a resounding Yes. We were behind schedule. It was my fault, and though my Master had not, yet, taken me to task about it. The thought that he valued my learning a new technique over the possibility of losing coin, warmed my soul.

    ¡°Book?¡±

    Master Alric came up behind me. I couldn¡¯t decipher his tone. Was I about to be racked over the coals for my screw-up? My soul lost a little of its warmth. Or was it my use of the frowned-upon stool? Why was it even here if not to use, was my thought.

    ¡°Did you just make this?¡± he picked up the carafe, using his senses to inspect it. ¡°Common quality, even.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± I sounded like I was addressing a Sith Lord, for Christ¡¯s sake. I¡¯d need to find the local equivalent of the curse if I wanted to fit in.

    He looked at the enchanted sand-timer sitting on a shelf above my station. ¡°That was, considerably, faster than your norm.¡±

    Can I mix Wars and Trek, going for the Vulcan eyebrow lift? Master Alric had it down to perfection.

    I checked my digital display. Fast? Using [ink; common] had cut the time to less than half!

    ¡°I found my groove, sir.¡±

    He looked confused at the slang for half a second (fitting right in!), then dismissed it. ¡°Yes, routines can have that effect. I trust you understand the reason for a traditional apprenticeship, now?¡±

    ¡°I do, Master,¡± I replied. ¡°After yesterday, I see more of the reasons behind what you have taught me.¡± Butter makes it better.

    ¡°Are you ready to try the infusion, again, Book?¡±

    ¡°I think I am, Master.¡± I rallied, pulling all the energy I could muster to the fore. ¡°I really think I am.¡±

    Wouldn¡¯t it be cool if there were health, [mana], and energy bar graphs like in video games?

    *Ding*

 Chapter 8: Settings, Lectures, and Purpose

    Chapter 8:  Settings, Lectures, and Purpose

    *Ding*

    I barely felt the pressure as a new function of the implant was released. I was getting used to it, it was integrating better, or my pain receptors were getting fried. I hoped for one¡ªor both¡ªof the first two. As for the last, I don¡¯t think that you could actually smell burning brain.

    *Sniff-sniff*

    Just musty plants and soil, musky caged creatures, mildewy cloth¡­ewww, that was from my robes. Laundry scent beads took a prime space on my list. Medieval worlds may be associated with vulgar smells, but fantasy worlds were not. Not in my mind, anyway. I have noticed Master Alric standing further away from me than usual. Was there a ¡®downwind¡¯ indoors?

    ¡°Focus, Book.¡± Alric snapped his fingers. I hoped that wouldn¡¯t become a habitual act. I would have to break his fingers if it did. I don¡¯t think any official apprenticeship code of conduct could save me. Unless, maybe, the appeals board has dealt with my Master before.

    You focus. ¡°Sorry, Maste¡­.¡±

    I was focusing, but it was the Matrix-green glowing text floating about a foot in front of my face that held my attention.

    *Customization unlocked.

    You may re-organize the HUD !nterface of your Tusk Industries supercomputing, A.I. enhanced, personal cerebral implant and hub server [Mark 0.7; experimental]. Compatible with servo installations and $torage devices under the Tusk Industries umbrella. Check the user¡¯s m@nual for a full list of compatible products. Any unauthorized tampering will void the warranty, and be punished to the full extent of intergalactic law.

    The location of optical icons representing the functionality of your device can be placed anywhere along the locking grid that governs the interface. Customize your personal \ayout for the best efficiency, and discover the maximum benefits of the Tusk Industries, [Mark 0.7; experimental]!

    New functions and routines can be found under:  Settings>Devices>Controls>HUD>Interface>User Control>Customization>Admin. Approval>UUID>Terms of Service>Verification>Customization>HUD>User Profile>Routines>Sub-routines¡­(see more)

    Trusted Users Seek Knowledge!*

    Can eyes be both unfocused and boggled at the same time? No doubt why Master Alric stared at me with growing concern. I think my eyes may be sprained.

    The floating text superimposed over my Master faded to nothing. I could see him clearly, and the worry touched me.

    ¡°Book?!¡±

    I started. Shaking my head dusted off some of the shock. It took what little restraint I still had not to burst out laughing. Between the look on Master Alric¡¯s face and the whole absurdity of, well, my life, it was a close call. However, it was not the worst Terms of Service I had ever seen. It even had that hyperlink at the tail end. I wonder, what would happen if I mentally clicked it? Did I have service on this planet?

    Or would the intergalactic law come looking for the perpetrators? I¡¯m positive that the orcs that had abducted me had hacked the implants, thus violating the boldly stated warranty. It had to be worse than tearing the tag off a mattress. Were there Intergalactic Warranty cops? More important, would they help us or dissect us?

    Best not to find out. My orcs may even be employees of Tusk Industries, for all I know, doing some real-world testing. It¡¯d be my luck they were authorized parties, with the proper permissions for this fantasy/sci-fi smashup. However, something tells me that humans did not fall under T.I.¡¯s umbrella of approval.

    Wait (again!), T.I.? Really?

    ¡°Book!¡±

    Whoa, when did Master Alric get so close to me? His face was inches from mine. His expression was a comic mix of Pissed off! and Should I call 9-1-1? A total wreck.

    ¡°No sir, uh, yes sir,¡± that was becoming too common for my taste. ¡°I¡¯m good, Master,¡± a little giggle slipped out. ¡°Just excited, that¡¯s all.¡±

    What¡¯s wrong with me?

    He backed off a few paces, the pissed off! taking control of his features. ¡°Well, contain yourself, Apprentice. This is a serious profession. You can not go around here slack-jawed and¡­ and all goofy!¡±

    Don¡¯t laugh, not even one giggle out of you!

    ¡°I am sorry, Sir.¡±  I hoped he could hear the capital ¡®S¡¯ I placed on the honorific. I¡¯d stepped in it, again. Do I say ''again'' too much? I¡¯ll work on it. I bet there was a library somewhere around here where I could grab a thesaurus. Look for English/Elvish: A Beginners Guide to Synonyms and Antonyms of Words; A Pocket Reference for the Discerning Offworlder. Or, maybe I had an E-reader in my head, and it was already downloaded. I''d have to drive down under¡­what was that link?

    OK, my sanity was fraying. It was just so absurd!Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°Booook,¡± Master Alric said, clear warning coloring the tone of his voice.

    ¡°Here, sir.¡±

    I could see he doubted me, so I straightened my back and squared my shoulders, standing at attention as best as I could.

    He nodded.

    ¡°Let us start, then. The last time, you figured a way to entice the [mana] to bend to your will.¡±

    ¡°Bribery.¡±

    ¡°Just so. Too, much, too fast. To continue the analogy, you offered gold coins, when all that was needed was a handful of coppers. You told me that you offered purpose to the [mana]. A good enticement, yes. But too good, and too soon in your training. You lack the control needed to temper your intent. That will only come with time, repetition, and discipline. Purpose is the end goal, what all [mana] exists for. Literally. [Mana] is the power of creation, the residuals from the birth of all life. The Mother of Trees¡ªbless her roots¡ªformed the world, and all it contains. From the singular blades of grass and individual grains of sand, and to the pinnacle of Mount Birch that pierces beyond the clouds. This you know, as it has been passed down from the first ancestors, generation after generation.¡±

    He gave me a look. I nodded, showing I had indeed received such knowledge. Great grand pappy Bookmyer had told me all about it. Yep.

    ¡°Bless her roots.¡± I threw it in, thinking it couldn¡¯t hurt. I¡¯ll have to remember that conversational tidbit for the future. Work on when to insert it. I doubt I would have too many opportunities, other than with Master Alric. Besides him, and Tess, I didn¡¯t talk with many people. The occasional vendor, like that flirty clerk at the tailor¡¯s. I couldn¡¯t wait to see her again (for the robes, obviously). Some of my Master¡¯s suppliers. No elven friends to speak of.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he continued. ¡°When she finished her great feats of creation, there was a surplus of her energy. In her great wisdom, the Mother of Trees¡­¡±

    I noticed that it was always ¡®¡­of Trees¡¯, never just ¡®Mother¡¯

    ¡°...chose to leave her divine energy. Our ancestors took it upon themselves to be its caretakers. Some became destined to wield this energy.¡±

    ¡°[Mana]¡±

    ¡°Yes, obviously, Book. That is what we are talking about, after all.¡±

    I''m trying to be a part of the conversation, dude. Tess had me saying ¡®dude¡¯, now. Can¡¯t wait for the day that slips out in place of ¡®Master¡¯.

    ¡°[Mage]s wield [mana],¡± he placed a heavy emphasis on the word, for my benefit. Pshaw. ¡°They do this directly, shaping the raw form to their needs. [Healer]s beseech the [mana], asking for the return of a person¡¯s body to its natural state. The perfection to which the Mother of Trees intended us. And, before you ask¡­¡± I closed my trap. ¡°It¡¯s the nature of us elves to be imperfect. To need growth, just as the natural world is ever-changing on the surface, and eternally stable underneath. The perfection of imperfection.¡±

    I smiled when he said that. My life¡¯s goal has always been to be perfectly imperfect. In that, I was the ¡®Master¡¯. There was the whole duck metaphor here but in reverse. Also, it seemed the elves didn¡¯t know about a planet¡¯s molten core. Unless they had the right of it, and science the wrong. Nope, I am not a flat earther.

    ¡°Artisans,¡± Master Alric continued, ¡°such as [Enchanter]s, [Alchemist]s, and of course, [Scrivener]s, we coax [mana] into physical objects. Now, Book, what is the one thing all these classes have in common? What do they give the [mana]?¡±

    I knew this. ¡°Purpose.¡±

    ¡°That is correct,¡± he smiled the smile of a proud papa. ¡°Purpose. It is what everything strives for, in the end.¡±

    It hadn¡¯t been hard to figure out where this lecture had been headed. I still reveled in the praise.

    ¡°I thought that was what I did, though?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but as I said, it was too much. You need to learn control, Book. That is the key.¡±

    ¡°Coppers, not gold.¡± Something clicked, to a way back lesson. ¡°The right ingredient for the right job.¡± Hindsight makes everything simple.

    ¡°You get it, now. So. Clear your mind, consider how much purpose is needed, and control your intent.¡±

    ¡°Clear, consider, control,¡± I muttered. I had yet another mantra.

    ¡°Clear, consider, control.¡±

    <hr>

    Intent was a key factor in any form of magic. That and Purpose. Both words came up regularly in Master Alric¡¯s lectures. And they were lectures, not just instructions. The penultimate master that he was amazed me. He had a way of making the most complicated of theories both clear and simple. And always obvious, after the fact. I couldn¡¯t see why he had this modest shop and studio on this modest street. Surely, he was good enough for something much grander. Maybe a position at the palace, working directly for the Elven Matriarchy. Have an impressive title like Chief Scroll Maker, or Grand Master, or¡­what was a Vizier? Wazir? Like the guy with the talking parrot in that cartoon movie, with that one guy, the hyped-up comedian. Was it ¡®Frozen¡¯? Nah, something else.

    ¡°We¡¯re not going to make it, Book.¡±

    So it¡¯s ¡®we¡¯ now? Interesting.

    Yes, Master.¡± He looked at me funny. ¡°I mean, no Master?¡± Was that right?

    ¡°No, Book. We are not.¡±

    It was late on Five-day, the sun lowering to its slumber. It only gave us one full day to fulfill the order. Master Alric had completed 17 of the scrolls today, very respectable. Add in the six he¡¯d done yesterday afternoon after I got rolling on the infusions. No cracked carafe; no modern art decorating the walls. And ceiling. That left 27 more to go. I¡¯m not sure what could be done to finish up in time.

    ¡°What can I, We, do, sir?¡± Hey, he said it first. Why not take this chance to embrace the ¡®we¡¯. That¡¯s a lot of we-we. (Ouch, even I winced at that one.)

    ¡°There is only one thing to do.¡±

    Give up? I need to keep that off of my face. Master Alric was one for persistence above all else. Not to mention the acquisition of more coins.

    Golds, not coppers, he-he.

    ¡°You are going to have to make some of the [torchlight] scrolls.¡±

    Yeah, there was no way he would give up this contract. But how¡­wait, what did he just say?!

    ¡°Did you hear me, Book? I said that you¡­¡± Alric started to say before I cut him off.

    ¡°Yes, Sir!¡± There was that capital, again. ¡°I¡¯m ready¡­you won¡¯t regret it¡­I can do it!¡± This all ran together, the words fighting each other to leave my mouth. Like a pack of cartoon dogs, the sentiments wedged up together in the open doorway and got stuck, butt-cheek to butt-cheek. All they needed was a cheeky (he-he) animated mouse to egg them on. I always rooted for that mouse.

    Sigh, I miss cartoons.

    OK, book. Do your breathing exercises, just like you learned in therapy. Breathe in for a 5 count, hold for 10, breathe out for another 5 count. This comes across as an overreaction, but it is not. Magic, with a capital M. Haven¡¯t I already been doing magic, what with the [ink; common], [apprenticeship unlock], and general infusions of [mana]? Sure, but all that was practical stuff, nothing fun!

    ¡°Where do I start, Master?¡± I was calm, I was controlled. Maaagic!!!!!!!!!!!

    ¡°First, use the solvent and clean the old ink off of your hands,¡± he told me. I looked at my hands, and sure enough, they were stained in varying shades of gray. That¡¯s how the normally mesmerizing silver ink dried when not properly treated. Or you blow a carafe of the stuff up in your hands. And your face, and¡­well, everywhere. Even the tip of a nose.

    ¡°There are multiple steps needed to create a magic scroll. The first is¡­¡±

 Chapter 9: Eyebrows, Intent, and Deliveries

    Chapter 9: Eyebrows, Intent, and Deliveries

    Pffft! There goes another one. Damn it, I can smell burnt hair this time. I grabbed a jar of mercury off one of the shelves and checked my reflection. Hard to see in the murky liquid, but a distorted version of myself stared back. I ran a finger along the left eyebrow, trying to see, and feel, how much of it just burned up.

    God¡ªMother of Trees¡ªI hated that acrid stench! ¡°Bless her roots.¡±

    Sulfur and potassium nitrate, that ages-old pair, it was their fault. Yeah, I knew they combusted. That was the point of them. Chem 101 had been one of the prerequisites for my degree, but what it had to do with Creative Writing baffled me. It was a requirement for all degrees, apparently. A well-rounded education, and all that. On that same note, what did Creative Writing have to do with landing a real job?

    Lo-and-behold, look at me now! I was writing and mixing volatile chemicals for the same profession. A real job. My old, doubting self should be ashamed.

    You see, the [mana] in [Scrivener]s ink needed a catalyst. The sulfur ignites when the [mana] excites its molecules, and the charcoal, another common ingredient in the ink, acts as fuel for the spark, which then allows the potassium nitrate to explosively release oxygen. I¡¯d googled how sparklers worked, that lamest of fireworks (what about black snakes?), when I was bored once. What human hasn¡¯t performed their share of inane Internet searches? I think I¡¯d had some idea of trying to make my own. Yeah, that totally wouldn¡¯t have ended up with me in the emergency room.

    The resulting explosion, which didn¡¯t need to be much, let the ink burn through the parchment and release the purposed [mana] from both in tandem. Flash-bang! The magic¡¯s intent was realized. [Torchl!ght] scrolls released a small, stable ball of light that could then either be placed in a stationary spot or directed to follow the user. I say stable, but it¡¯s still a ball of fire. Not a good use indoors, at least in the, ahem, modern elven world. That is what sun-gems were for. A whole other process, and one not in my purview. That was the light-switch/electrician paradigm.

    The first step in crafting magic scrolls was the preparation of the parchment. It was true parchment, not papyrus or made from cotton fibers. Making parchment was a lengthy process, one I won''t go in to. The scrolls needed to be made from something that had a more energetic life than plants. Something that [mana] had lived in, and grown with. Once harvested, the animal skins¡ªdifferent types for different uses¡ªwent through a long journey. It was thought that the careful, detailed process along the way from dead skin to viable parchment was also integral. The effort to keep something useful past its original design gave it purpose. That word, again.

    All that said, the parchment needed to be fed excess [mana]. It absorbed the energy like a sponge, waiting for the squeeze to release it all. The [mana] had to be unaligned, too. Harder than a person would think, in practice, which is where a Master came in. Disciplined control was required for pure [mana], without so much of a trace of the crafter¡¯s bias. Don¡¯t think of an elephant in a pink tutu and top hat dancing the time warp, things like that. That way it could amplify the magic in the ink, not dilute it with its own will. So why have an apprentice make the ink? I left my intent all over the fluid (came out dirtier than intended, sorry)(Not!).

    For one, the magic imparted to the ink was stronger, more focused. It over-wrote any piddling intent an apprentice could leave behind. The old language all scrolls were written in was more powerful, as well. A long-dead language, some said it had been taught to the ancestors by the Mother of Trees herself. Only [Mage]s spoke it aloud, the basis for their spells. Other uses of [mana]¡ªaside from the mundane, everyday uses¡ªlike what [Scrivener]s and [Enchanter]s crafted, tended towards the written words. Better suited to me.

    None of this could help with my current predicament. I¡¯d burned through two parchments and one eyebrow. Only one success, so far. It had happened between the two flubs, the good one that is.

    ¡°You rushed,¡± said Master Alric. ¡°One good outcome and it was common quality at that, so you felt overconfident.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± Pretty much right on the nose.

    Alric had assigned me to make six scrolls. That meant he was responsible for making twenty-one of them himself. Well, he was responsible for all of them. As my Master, my work fell under his aegis. Since he¡¯d been able to make seventeen yesterday, he would be at a deficit of four with a rerun of the day. And I was one for three. There was only one ¡®extra¡¯ left. Alric¡¯s rule of an excess of three was about to be sorely tested(what about all of the excess already built up, huh?).

    If he had to dip into his overstock cluttering the shop, I¡¯d never hear the end of it.

    (OK, there it is.)

    ¡°Clear, consider, control, Book.¡± He parroted my mantra¡­the one I¡¯d taken from his teachings. Our manta.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    ¡°Tripple-C, dude,¡± I said low enough he wouldn¡¯t hear. ¡°C-squared.¡±

    Wait, that was only two. ¡°Cubed¡±

    I took a fresh sheet of parchment, one fully primed by Master Alric. I dipped a steady quill pen in the [ink; common], took a breath, and held it. I inked the word for a torch, pouring meaning into the letters as they took shape. I let the breath out, careful not to let it whoosh and deposit any floating particles on the wet ink. At least no particle large enough to be seen by the naked eye. And elves had phenomenal eyesight.

    Another held breath and we get to the tricky part. Before the silvery ink could dry, physically binding itself to the parchment, I melded them into one. Binding their [mana]. If it worked, then when the user invoked the scroll, the parchment would fuel the ink and those bonds would break in an explosion of magic. The intent would be released, taking its intended form.

    A form that I had placed. As every individual was unique, different crafters¡¯ work erupted in their unique ways. The same basic functionality or there would be no point, but with effects slightly off from another. The hue of a [torchlight] could be a different shade either way along the spectrum. The flames could be taller, squatter, or sputter distinctly. I hoped mine wouldn¡¯t manifest as a neon sign pointing towards me. It would flash words like otherworlder, or human in disguise! Or just point and make that sound like in ¡®Invasion of the Body Snatchers¡¯. I had watched a ton of old movies with Dad, and that one had been old even from his perspective.

    The next breath I held was one of anticipation. Apprehension. Then it happened. The letters shimmered, passing from left to right in a trail across the parchment. A parchment no longer, as the entirety became a scroll of [torchlight].

    Master Alric placed a fleeting hand on my shoulder, might have even squeezed it a little. Two down and four to go, with one spare freebie parchment. For me. My Master still had to make up a shortage of four.

    We were going to make it.

    <hr>

    And we did. I flubbed on two more scrolls, giving me a deficit of one freebie. I thought I would have to replace it, what with my Master¡¯s attitude. I was stunned when he told me, ¡°It¡¯s the cost of doing business, Book. And the cost of a Master for his Apprentice.¡±

    I had to stop thinking the worst of him. It flared up from my own insecurities, coloring my perspective of the universe. I¡¯d always been that way, even before we ¡°crossed that damned field.¡± Don¡¯t know why, but saying it made me feel better.

    The delivery to the Artisan¡¯s Guild was anti-climatic after all the build-up. It really was only a shipment of flashlights. They did ask us to take the delivery over to the Adventure Guild. For an extra fee, of course. One insisted upon by Master Alric. I would have done it for free, and that was how it ended up. My Master¡¯s time was too valuable, it turned out. Never would¡¯a thunk it. Lucky me, I was paid in learnin¡¯.

    The tone was all me, Alric would never clip his words, ¡®Bless his roots¡¯. Did I just blaspheme, twisting the benediction? I¡¯ve never been overly devout, but I had never believed in magic before, either. Hoped, desired, and spent too much time imagining, yes. But not actually believed (sure).

    ¡°Bless your roots, Mother.¡±

    Master Alric was headed back to his shop on Parchment Lane, jingling a full coin purse. I figured he had no worries about being mugged, him being a Master and all. I was sure he had some defenses on his person. Probably had scrolls hidden throughout his robes. It was more ¡®muggers beware¡¯. How could I help, in any event? I wasn¡¯t that type of cyborg!

    I don¡¯t think.

    The Adventure Guild wasn¡¯t far. Most of the guilds were located around a shared courtyard. The cobbled square was chock full of statues, fountains, and what I took for memorials. People gathered in clusters. There were groups of [Mage]s in flashy robes, with wands tucked in belts and staffs on their shoulders. What could only be warriors, clad in a variety of metals and leathers, some furs too. Then there was the opulence of artisans, Master crafters of all disciplines, both magical and mundane. Diplomats and bureaucrats. Each pool of congregates mostly sticking to their own kind. ¡°High school never ends¡­¡± I sang beneath the hubbub.

    Only closer to the bulletin boards was there a mixed crowd. Adventuring party¡¯s, looking for jobs. Quests and bounties were a real thing. Other notices called for new party remembers. Some long-term, and some for specific adventures. ¡°Team Stryker needs a [Healer]¡­The Gosshawks require the services of a front liner¡­A Bard trio is looking for another soprano¡­¡±

    Tess and I could be ¡®Team Castaway¡¯, or something with more grit. ¡®The Human Stains.¡¯ Which is what a [Courier] and an [Scrivener; Apprentice] would end up as.

    I finagled my way through the crowds, the heavy canvas satchel full of [torchlight] scrolls clamped to my side. Just needed to drop them off, and then Master Alric had given the rest of the day to me. We¡¯d earned a little downtime. He wanted me to practice holding [mana] through the night, increasing in small increments to develop my capacity. Also, making friends with it. My words, not his. Maybe I could throw a barbecue and we could mingle. Become besties. Other than that, I was free til One-day came back around. That was two days off for me. We were back to the Master''s regular, scheduled program.

    Once delivery of the order was at its final stop, the next thing on my mind was an inexpensive food vendor close to the apartment. I¡¯d earned a little treat. I could pick up dinner for Tess and me. And if I happened to have a snack between the vendor and home, well that was that. I did need the calories, after all.

    As I was daydreaming of spicy cheese puffs (an orange never to be found in nature), I caught a glimpse of a familiar shade of red hair and pale skin. It was the girl, young woman, from ¡°Harmsson & Tak; *enchanted tailors*¡±. I had been wanting to meet more elves and make some friends aside from Tess. She already had a growing circle of her own. Fitness types, the same old jocks, and hangers-on. I also needed to get out of my head and have some conversations outside of work.

    I reversed course and started making my way over to her. I didn¡¯t know her name, name tags weren¡¯t a thing here, but I planned to find out.

    She wasn¡¯t looking at the adventure notices, was she? Surely not.

    I had no reason to worry.

 Chapter 10: Bulletins, Xenomorphs, and Sticky Buns

    Chapter 10:  Bulletins, Xenomorphs, and Sticky Buns

    ¡°Hey, there,¡± I said. My best opening line.

    The redhead turned, looking for someone that she knew. ¡°??¡±

    ¡°I saw you standing here, thought I¡¯d say ¡®Hi¡¯.¡±

    Her gaze finally found me. I was standing right next to her. It took a moment, but a hint of recognition eventually colored her gaze.

    ¡°Oh, hi. Ink-doused robes, right?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s me. You up-sold me the expensive, self-charging enchantment.¡±

    ¡°Up-sold?¡±

    Right, Earth slang.

    ¡°Upgraded,¡± I explained. ¡°More at first, but cheaper in the long run.¡±

    ¡°Uh, yeah.¡±

    This was going greeaat. I was my normal, suave self. I guess there were some things bioengineering couldn¡¯t wash from my genes.

    ¡°Yeah, you know,¡±  I ran a hand across the back of my neck. Was it hot? ¡°You¡¯d said you would see me again when I picked up the new robes. Then I saw you from the other side of the courtyard, so I thought I¡¯d move up the timeline.¡± I gave her my best grin.

    ¡°Sure, I guess.¡± She looked a little unnerved.

    Probably because I was acting like a stalker. Point two, to me.

    ¡°Look ,um¡­¡±

    ¡°Book.¡±

    ¡°Book, OK. I don¡¯t want to be rude, but,¡± her face disagreed, ¡°I¡¯m kind of in the middle of something.¡±

    ¡°Sure, sure. I get it.¡± Persistence was the key to success. ¡°Checking the boards?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she deadpanned. ¡°What gave it away?¡±

    I tried to grin, but I¡¯m sure it was more of a grimace.

    ¡°Just browsing, or looking for something specific?¡± I kept on keeping on, with nothing to lose. I didn''t even know her name, yet. That was goal number one.

    She closed her eyes, more of a really long blink. ¡°Just daydreaming, that¡¯s all.¡±

    I looked past her shoulder at the bulletin board, trying to see the notices she had been looking at. They were mostly listings by teams looking for new members. Some were rosters of individuals looking for a place in an established group, or to start a party from scratch.

    ¡°You want to be an adventurer?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Like I said, just a daydream.¡±

    I used to dream of exciting adventures, wielding magic, and rescuing the princess. Except in my dreams, I did more than mix up ink by hand and make deliveries. There was still magic, and with more to come! Here¡¯s to hoping for something other than flashlights. I could try [flash] bangs!

    ¡°I need to head back to work, so¡­¡± I could tell she was looking for a way out.

    ¡°Right, I¡¯ll let you go. See you in a couple of days, then.¡±

    She gave me her professional smile and turned to walk away. Please, look back over your shoulder, come on. Did she just hesitate? Ah, no. She didn¡¯t want to run into the fur-clad warrior crossing in front of her, that¡¯s all.

    Her name! I forgot to ask for it. I would get it when I visited "Harmsson & Tak *enchanted tailors*" for my new robes. It was something to look forward to. And sweat about.

    Sigh. It was time for me to see about some dinner and a snack. Something sugary.

    <hr>

    The sticky bun I clutched in one hand dripped molten caramel down the back of my knuckles. I licked it off, not wanting to waste a single drop of its¡ªburning¡ªgoodness (Ow-ow-ow!). Worth it. I had another pair of the gooey treats in a takeout container, balanced on top of a second cardboard box full of dinner for Tess and me. The other two were for our dessert, this one was my walking snack.

    I juggled my load up the stairs leading to our apartment. Reaching the front entrance, I stuffed that last bite in my mouth. I held the takeout boxes up, nestled under my tucked chin to secure them, and searched my pocket for the door key. My sticky fingers left a smear of caramel on my robes. Maybe I needed to head back to the tailor¡¯s and get another set, hmm? I needed to pay Tess back, first.

    Once inside, I kicked the door closed behind me. The food was still hot, so I put it in a stasis box, instead of the cooler. The stasis box preserved its contents ¡®as is¡¯, but only for a short time. If it went in hot, it came out hot. A simple concept with intricate functionality, and much better than the heating lamps used by the restaurants I¡¯d frequented on campus. Everything inside just stopped; A moment frozen in time. There was no residual cooking, or cooling. It was only possible with time-based magic, so we didn¡¯t use it much. Expensive as hell to recharge it. Time magic was very specialized, and to use it in a kitchen appliance cost more than a few coppers and silvers. They were cheap to manufacture, however, so they came as standard equipment. It was the snack bar to the theater ticket. You were already there, so you went ahead and paid for the overpriced popcorn. It was the same concept, here. There had to be kick-back shenanigans spicing up the local ''supply and demand''. Sign up for a lifetime subscription, and get your free pen and pencil set! Ten CD¡¯s for the low, low price of one penny! If the kick-back had not already been invented (Yah, right, dude), well, another thing to add to my list of ¡®modernizations¡¯. Stolen story; please report.

    Columbia House can¡¯t find me here in Elf-Home. Right? Another dated reference, yes. My Dad can be thanked for it. All those stories I¡¯d had to sit through, waiting for the coming attractions at the movies to play out. ¡®Elf-Home¡¯? Just trying it out in my head.

    I settled in for Tess to get home from work. There was no TV or Internet to keep my mind busy. I could practice my exercises, holding [mana] until I didn¡¯t have to think about it anymore. That defeated the purpose, from my perspective. Succeeding meant that my mind was free to wander. And it tended to meander down some dark paths.

    Instead, I was thinking about trying my hand at that novel I¡¯d always wanted to write. The elves had some fiction, but not much. It was a lot of poetry and allegories, with an occasional tall tale thrown in. I bet there would be a place for an adventure story, or thriller. Science Fiction!

    Lost in my internal world of xenomorphs and whodunits, time began to slip away from me.

    Bang!

    The front door crashed against the wall, and I jumped about half a foot off the lumpy couch.

    ¡°Cheezus Crackers!¡± Had the intergalactic police come for me? I wasn¡¯t ready to go!

    ¡°Aargh!¡± Tess came in hot. ¡°Why are men such idiots, Book? Why?!¡±

    No way I was going to touch that.

    ¡°No, really, I want to know. I¡¯m asking you, Book.¡±

    Damn, I was caught. I wonder if Master Alric had any scrolls of [invisibility] and if I could afford one. And how much extra it would be for rapid delivery. My Master would love that idea; a delivery service for impromptu needs. I¡¯d thought about floating the idea to him, before. I hadn¡¯t because I knew who the runner would be. Me. He had already used me earlier today as a pack mule.

    ¡°It¡¯s one of the great mysteries, Tess,¡± I shook my head in mock sadness. My platonic roommate was either going to laugh in my face or pop my eyeballs. I crossed my fingers, metaphorically speaking. Hell, I did it physically, too.

    ¡°Stonehenge; Roanoke; Nessie. None compare to men.¡± OK, I replaced it with ¡®women¡¯ in my head. I¡¯d say ¡®Mars and Venus¡¯, but I¡¯m sure we''d passed those on the way here. Not to worry too much, but I felt a vague sort of agreement from my Tusk Industries [Mark 0.7]. I¡¯d need to unpack that, later. I had a situation to defuse.

    Tess sputtered, eyes goggling in disbelief. Come on laughter, take the wheel.

    ¡°Book¡­?¡±

    I was in for it, now.

    ¡°Ha!¡± She burst out, one great bark of laughter. It had caught her, and now she was firmly in its insidious grasp.  I saw her shoulders drop clear of her neck, her anger-tightened muscles loosening as she fell under the spell of chortles.

    Could I make a scroll of [laughter]? Imagine all of your foes, giggling so furious that they couldn¡¯t get a spell off, or run you through with a length of sharpened steel. It made the list.

    ¡°You¡¯re one of the good ones, Book.¡±

    ¡°Whew, I hope so. Just stay out of my mind, and you¡¯ll continue to think that, Tess.¡±

    I¡¯d thought it, so I said it. Spin the truth with amusement, and I¡¯m good to go.

    ¡°What happened?¡± I asked. ¡°Some guy did some stupid, I take it?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it was Kolin. Things were going good, and I thought, maybe, I was ready to move on from Steve. You know how I¡¯ve been since he didn¡¯t make it down with us.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Carmen, too.¡±

    ¡°Right? Not knowing what happened to them is driving me insane. But, I was finally ready to make a new connection with someone.¡±

    ¡®I¡¯m right here¡¯, I didn¡¯t say.

    ¡°I could tell Kolin was working up to ask me out,¡± Kolin another of the runners working at ¡°J&T¡±, Tess¡¯s [courier] workplace. ¡°I was all primed to say ¡®yes¡¯, so when he walked up to me, I was ready. Do you know what he said, then? What he told me?¡±

    ¡°Tell me,¡± I tried to be gentle.

    ¡°So, get this,¡± she said, while all I could think was, ¡®Please, get on with it¡¯. ¡°Kolin tells me¡ªyou¡¯ll never guess it¡ªthat he has joined up with an adventure party! ¡®Team Brawn¡¯, that¡¯s what it was called. What a stupid name. More like ¡®Team Scrawny Ass¡¯, if they want him.¡±

    I doubt it, not if Tess was interested in the guy. She tended towards a type.

    ¡°Now, he is probably going to get himself killed!¡±

    I knew it was likely, too. There was a reason for all of the notices on the adventure bulletin boards. I had no interest in quests or bounties, except maybe supplying magic scrolls to the teams foolish enough to take on one of them. One of my earlier fears had been of Tess deciding that she wanted to go that route. If we weren¡¯t so new to this world, she probably would have. She had spirit, yes she did! Cheerleader and track star, the athletics of a life of daring adventure would be right up her alley. Then I¡¯d really lose her.

    I had already lost too many people on this journey.

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s a good thing, you guys not being too close, yet.¡± Oops. Tess threw a squinted glance my way. I was smart enough not to tell her to ¡®calm down.¡¯ Yikes.

    ¡°You could still go out with him, though.¡± I backpedaled desperately. ¡°Just keep it friends, for now.¡±

    ¡°Losing friends still hurts, Book. We both know that.¡±

    I had distracted her, but at what cost?

    ¡°Yeah, we do. But we can not stop living our lives, Tess. Not now, not after going through what we did to escape.¡± And those we lost. Ricki, for sure. That image will never go away. And it shouldn¡¯t. Where Steve and Carmen had ended up was one of those ¡®great mysteries¡¯ I hoped to solve, one day. I had no clue where to start, however. Digging into what I¡¯d felt from my implant earlier would be my first stop.

    ¡°I know, I know.¡± She tried to wave it off with a show of bravado. I didn¡¯t have the heart to call her out on it. I was one of the good ones.

    We both tried hard to keep our conversations light, every night. Tonight¡¯s was about as serious as we let ourselves get. We avoided too much depth, afraid we wouldn¡¯t make it back from the dark places. We took turns having small¡ªand not-so-small¡ªmeltdowns like Tess had the other night. As long as both of us didn¡¯t lose it at the same time, one of us could be strong for the other. Denial was our love language.

    Would it eventually be too much? Abso-fucking-lutely.

    ¡°I bought us some dinner,¡± that should perk her up. Neither of us would have to try cooking tonight. And I do mean ¡®try¡¯. Frankly, we both sucked at it. I was OK with breakfast, but that¡¯s about it. ¡°And sticky buns for dessert.¡± She was all mine, now. Her woes (it was just a date!) were forgotten, and she didn¡¯t have to take her turn at cooking. What could be better?

    Dessert!

 Chapter 11: Relaxation, Quick Keys, and Originality

    Chapter 11: Relaxation, Quick Keys, and Originality

    I used the long weekend to relax. The opposite was true for Tess, as she tried to run off her anxiety over Kolin. She set some impressive, personal records on her [Courier] jobs. We spent some time ruminating over our brain implants, comparing and contrasting what the [Mark .07]¡¯s did for each of us. That was when she wasn¡¯t running from her feelings. Me, I had plenty of time to think. As it has been established, that was not one of my favorite pastimes. It could be downright dangerous. So I concentrated on working out what we did, and did not, know about what the orc-tech could do to help us out.

    It was assumed that the Orcish experiments had a reason behind them. They had obviously been a technologically advanced race. Spaceships, ray guns, and abducting humans in the moonlight kind of gave it away. Not to mention, the matter-transmitter array that allowed us to escape their flying saucer (I still insist it was a saucer). "Klaatu barada nikto."

    That led to thinking it was the [mana] the Orcs were after. We had not even known that [mana] existed, not when we¡¯d been caged up in outer space. The idea of fantasy Orcs as aliens had come from me, my mind putting a label on the unknown to make it more palatable. Over time, the others with me had adopted the descriptor. It wasn¡¯t a very hard stretch from there to think of our captors in those terms. Their looks painted a pretty obvious image. Throw in the elf-like civilization they were spying on, and there you go.

    We had inherited some of the technological knowledge contained in the implants. Take the direct downloading of [skill]s such as [translation; superior] into our minds as evidence. We had not been aware of any directives or settings at the time. We could suddenly understand the orcs for the first time and even interpret some of the writings we saw. Not that Ricki had gotten the chance. Her brain had exploded as soon as the implants had come online. Gray matter literally painted the walls of her cell. Mine was across from her, so I saw it happen. My own excruciating pain had not been enough to hide the details from me. It was the first time I had wished for something to hurt more than it did.

    That particular day held a lot of firsts, for me.

    I think that there was some other bleed-through of knowledge, too. No pun intended (shiver). We seemed to just know things, at times.

    Also, I couldn¡¯t help but think, that the [System] aspect that presented itself then had been born of my influence (I¡¯m an influencer!). I had been the first to put names to what we were all experiencing, with Steve¡¯s knowledge of Anime thrown in. Too much of everything aligned with my experiences of reading LitRPG. To me, this proved that there was a back-and-forth exchange between my thoughts and the software of the [Mark .07]. This transfer must go back to that absolute worst of days.

    I read more in one day, on average, than the next three people my age put together. I even had hard copies of some of my favorites. It made me a dinosaur, compared with the majority of my peers. Tess and Carmen were readers, too, but not the same stuff as me. I was partially responsible for Steve¡¯s Anime addiction. Carmen was into what they called ¡®erotica¡¯. I was afraid to ask any more after they told me that. And I¡¯d seen Tess with some bodice rippers, their covers bent back and half covered. No judgment from me. I had a good friend who had made a successful living writing romance novels. The best advice she¡¯d given me on the subject of writing was not to take myself so seriously. ¡°I don¡¯t care what people think,¡± she had said. ¡°I like writing commercial fluff.¡± I think her name might have been on some of the books Tess read. So, I enjoyed my fantasy novels, despite being called a nerd for it. According to Stephen King, and I¡¯m loosely paraphrasing here (don¡¯t call me out too hard on any of this), any writing that was not strictly factual could technically be considered fantasy.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    I did judge Tess for creasing spines and bending covers. Sacrilege! That was a big advantage in favor of e-books, in my mind.

    Brilliance. Distraction.

    Back on topic.

    ¡°Do you seen an old-school, green, type-text?¡± I¡¯d asked.

    ¡°Like ¡®Wargames¡¯, right?¡± So Tess had seen it, too. ¡°Yeah, but not at first. It started out as a wire grid overlaying everything I could see.¡±

    ¡°Me, too,¡± I replied. ¡°But after a while, it seemed to settle on a theme, of sorts.¡± I then told her about my theory of subconsciously influencing the manner of things. Tess thought my reasoning had merit, especially as I had been the only one with any sort of coherent thoughts on the matter.

    ¡°It does make sense.¡± She didn¡¯t sound skeptical, making my ego swell a touch. ¡°It needed a way to frame everything in a way we could understand.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s me, influencer to the stars!¡± Ha, I managed to insert my joke into the conversation. It was a proud moment.

    She gave me the same look I used on Dad, suffering through his frequent dad jokes. My ego deflated somewhat. ¡°Do you get it? Stars? Outer space?¡± I made it worse. If a joke had to be explained, it wasn¡¯t much of one. Or in my case, a good one.

    She didn¡¯t bother to respond to it, instead saying, ¡°It¡¯s developed, since.¡±

    ¡°Have you configured the display?¡± It was time to cut my loss on the joke.

    ¡°Yes, I keep everything off to the sides, out of my way.¡± Always the practical one. ¡°The last thing I need when running is a distraction.¡±

    I had the digital time displayed in the top-left, and my [mini-map] opposite it on the right side. Then I had a section for my drop-downs, [skill]s and [spell-slot]s. I was thinking about adding numbered quick keys along the bottom.

    Tess had discovered her own version of my [ink; common] cheat. Her¡¯s was [sprint; common]. No ¡®common¡¯, so it must be better than mine. Typical.

    The quality qualifier may have come Master Alric, I supposed. Did the locals see the brackets we did? Not the first time I¡¯d wondered about it.

    [Sprint; common] gave her that additional edge that she sometimes needed at the end of the day. Or when she felt like it, for fun. Runners be crazy.

    She did like my quick key idea. I gave her points for that, crazy or not.

    Our muscles must upgraded, too. We¡¯d each had incision scars over the long bones of our bodies. They had long since faded, but there was no doubt they¡¯d been there. Sophisticated servos, maybe? Or nanites. A big science fiction buzzword; nanites. I¡¯ve mentioned how my heart seemed much stronger than before. The strength and endurance part was much more noticeable for Tess. Likely from her [class].

    [Class]es didn¡¯t come from my influence. We¡¯d found that early on, within those hectic days at the beginning. It had only taken a half-dozen comments from the first elves we¡¯d come across to figure it out. It was lucky we were both around the same age that elves tended to choose their [class]. Also, I could hear the capitals when Master Alric spoke of other Master crafters.

    Wow, I¡¯m really starting to go in circles here, huh? You spin me right round, baby, right round¡­I couldn¡¯t be in a LitRPG world without plenty of 80¡¯s references. Boy, was I the right guy for that! ¡®Wargames¡¯ and Dead or Alive lyrics flowed effortlessly off my tongue.

    At least I wasn¡¯t making ¡®Airwolf¡¯ cracks. Cool theme music, I have to admit. I betcha you can¡¯t name the last series I¡¯d read before my unexpected, intergalactic romp. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, or so I¡¯ve heard.

    Tess had chosen [Courier] without much hesitation after it had been offered. Offered by who, or what, was still unclear. The only answer we¡¯d ever been given was, ¡®The Mother of Trees willed it.¡¯ Bless her roots. What if the [System] did not come from my influence? It was crazy egotistical of me to think it. It was possible that I wasn¡¯t something special.

    The overlap was uncanny. All the stories I had read explained this as a sort of cosmic slippage, different worlds influencing one another. That was the dimensional reasoning. These trans-galactic similarities could be a case of the collective unconscious. If so, we were far from the first humans thrust into a situation with a [System]. The concept had to come from somewhere, after all.

    There are no original ideas left, just variations on a theme.

 Chapter 12: Lists, Ambition, and Twists

    Chapter 12: List, Ambition, and Twists

    ¡°OK, let¡¯s list it,¡± Tess told me.

    ¡°We have got: HUD; overlay; [skill]s; [spell-slot]s¡­¡±

    ¡°For you,¡± she clarified. Tess had not unlocked any spells, so far. Whether this was due to her being a [Courier]¡ªnot much need for [fireball]¡ªor some other reason, we had no clue. Besides, she had me. A [Scrivener; Master] in the making. I¡¯d be knocking out [fireball] scrolls in no time at all. You could not be too prepared, after all. There were a lot of stray cats in the city, laying in wait to ambush the unaware [Courier]. Joking aside, there were some bad parts to our new hometown, like anywhere with more than a handful of streets. Instead of shooting off a [fireball], however, [sprint; common] would get Tess out of most sketchy situations.

    ¡°¡­for me¡­,¡± I started ticking off items, again. ¡°[Translation; superior]; [mini-map]; enhanced cognitive abilities, like memory; enhanced strength and stamina; night vision (that was so cool! And not the high contrast type with bright whites, more like everything was bathed in an early twilight); and I¡¯m betting a lot more that we have not figured out yet.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all you, Book,¡± she said. ¡°You are the one that knows about all this crap. I just want to run.¡±

    ¡°You are more than that, and you know it, Tess.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, dude. Now, go tell Kolin that.¡±

    Were we still on this? When will the guy actually go on an adventure, and give Tess some space?

    ¡°If he doesn''t already know, that is on him.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Book.¡± She had a great smile. And a huge yawn. I swear I could see every tooth when she unhinged her jaw like that.

    I looked over my shoulder, checking the sun¡¯s position in the sky. I know, I have a digital clock in my head. The elves tended to judge time from the sun, even though clocks did exist. They also did not need to go to bed with the darkness; just look at all the [torchlight] scrolls I had been making. Times were generally called midday, midmorning, and such-and-such hour either side of dawn or dusk. I worked hard to fit in.

    ¡°The sun isn¡¯t even down yet, and you are yawning like that?¡±

    ¡°And I have to get up before it rises.¡±

    ¡°Yuck, morning people¡­¡±

    ¡°Lazy night owls¡­¡±

    And we were off.

    <hr>

    It was One-day, yet again. It didn¡¯t fit too well with the song, Monday, Monday. I tried to sing it anyway. ¡°One-day, One-day, so good to me¡­blah b-blah, dah.¡± The Beatles, right? That didn¡¯t sound right, but hey? Who here was going to argue with me? ¡°Blah, b-blah, dah¡­can¡¯t trust that day¡­¡± What¡¯s a guy to do without a little music in his life? Still waiting for that theme music, universe. That was me now, singing oldies on the way to work after a weekend. Almost more strange than Orcs and Elves.

    Maybe not.

    With the long weekend behind me, it was time to head on over to ¡°Papers & powers.¡± For the fun of it, I played with my [mini-map]. I pulled up the settings and looked for a ¡®destination¡¯ option. I also wanted to see how much I could influence it. I pictured something like you would see on any number of map applications found on a smartphone. Drop a pin where you were, and set another where you wanted to be. Before I knew it, I was looking at something very familiar. The graphic design was too close to what I expected not to have been influenced to some degree. So, at least it tailored the display to the user¡¯s wants. I had figured that to be the case, having unlocked the customization feature. It could also simply be a universal format for such a function, but the styling was all me. I found a list of everywhere I had been so far, since I¡¯d first discovered the [mini-map] options. What was missing was the search bar. There was no place to enter a new destination. It made sense, with no GPS satellites in orbit. Not unless the Orcs had left one. I did not want to find out if they did. If I was able to connect to any orc-tech outside of myself, the reverse would be true. They could find me.

    Having a map of where you already know how to get to wasn¡¯t of much use, but there it was. It had to mean that there was supposed to be more to it. If it was set up to pair with a larger database, maybe the [Mark .07] could talk to others of its kind. A great thing to have if you were planning on invading another world to steal their magic. If I could link my [mini-map] with the one Tess had, then I would have all of her data points. That would let me find anyplace she¡¯d been, which was almost the entire city. Sweet. But no telepathy. Orc-tech had already proved it had some bleed though. Tusk Industries would need to fix that, before the rollout of the [Mark 1.0]. Thinking of that, what was the deal with .07? Not even first gen., what a rip.

    I followed a green arrow overlaid on the cobbled streets, taking me down a path my feet knew by heart. Redundant, but neat. What if I could link the [mini-map] with [skill]s? Would my body take over and send me on my merry way? Nah, it would be a waste to use it as a [skill]. What if there were a limited numbers of functions you could add to the list, the same as [spell-slot]s?This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    The next thing I knew, the bell above Alric¡¯s shop was ringing in my ears. It made me feel welcome.

    ¡°Master?¡± I called out. A touch quiet to someone¡¯s attention. I was trying for the middle, between ¡®Don¡¯t let me catch you in your robe and slippers (with jam in your beard!)¡¯, and the softer ¡®Do you have any work for me?¡¯ Just because I didn¡¯t feel any true dread going to work, it didn¡¯t mean I still wasn¡¯t a slacker at heart.

    No response came back, so it was all good.

    I headed into the back room and my workstation. I took a seat on the wobbly stool and tried to think about how to start the day. Using my [Apprenticeship Unlock] spell had me fired up. Give a mental poke, get a magic reward. I wanted to see what else I could do, especially after all the thought I¡¯d put in over the weekend.

    I stood, pushing the stool back. It scraped along the stone floors, letting out a high-pitched squeak. That should get Master Alric moving. It contradicted my earlier instinct to avoid work. It was my idea to get learning, not someone else¡¯s, so it was OK. That is what my cat DNA told me, anyhow. Meow.

    As I waited for my Master to show, I headed to the cabinet where he kept the recipes for beginner scrolls. I¡¯d browsed it, before. Alric had shown it to me during the first week of my training. He had told me that I was free to look through it whenever I wanted. I¡¯ve flipped my way past the pages of the thick, hand-bound books once or twice. There was nothing dangerous in it. Not on the surface, anyway. But I¡¯d been having thoughts of trying some¡ªpun intended¡ªoff ¡®Book¡¯ applications. If you looked at it from a purely technical standpoint, [torchlight] was a miniature ball of fire. [Fireball]. I knew from experience what happens when a person infuses too much [mana], causing a catastrophic, unintended reaction. There would have to be more to it, of course. Otherwise, apprentices would have long ago burnt civilization to the ground. The trick would be finding the right way to screw it up.

    The recipes were more about the ingredients needed, like a¡­recipe. I doubted that there were ingredients that could not be found in Master Alric¡¯s shop, and I was the one who took care of them. Fresh, dried, pulverized. And alive, ick. Living plants, sure. But there were other things. Then there was the keyword used. Another thought hit me. Was it the language passed on from the Mother of Trees itself that held the magic? Or, as Master Alric had repeatedly lectured me on, the intent behind them? How much of the mysteries were layered with some good, ol¡¯ razzle-dazzle? Smoke and mirrors were what made the magic where I came from.

    ¡°Book?¡±

    I started, somehow feeling guilty. These files were not the cookie jar, and I was allowed in them.

    ¡°Yes, Master. How was your long weekend?¡±

    ¡°Mine.¡±

    All normal, then.

    ¡°Are you looking for something, apprentice?¡±

    It was the tone that caused my guilt. Always the tone. Accusatory, annoyed, and bored all tied up together. And that was why I jumped when he startled me. Every time.

    ¡°I was thinking,¡± Wait for the joke¡­smile and nod¡­move past it. ¡°You told me that I could supplement the generous stipend you give me.¡±

    He looked for it, but I was able to leave the word free of sarcasm. I was getting good at this. He nodded.

    ¡°When I delivered the contracted scrolls, I saw a huge crowd gathered at the bulletin boards.¡±

    ¡°Naturally.¡±

    ¡°Would it be OK¡­¡± I started.

    ¡°¡­if you sold some scrolls to the crowds.¡± He finished for me.

    Not the first apprentice to come up with it, huh? Sill¡­

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    ¡°You would have to pay for the supplies, yourself. And do it on your time, not mine.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°You would still be responsible for any tasks I assign to you. Completed on my schedule, not yours.¡±

    There was an awful lot of ¡®I, me, and mine¡¯, peppering his words.

    ¡°And keep up with your studies. That is why you are here. Why you sought me ought, and asked to learn from me.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Coin is good, but it comes second, understand?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± That was rich, considering the source. But he had earned it, it was his business, not mine. It was like a family member or a loved one throwing money around when you were eating instant ramen. You wanted to complain, say ¡®Why don¡¯t you throw some of that excess my way?¡¯ And you had no say, no right to feel that way. Sucks, being broke all the time. I¡¯d be a good rich person, that was always my thought. It was easy to believe that, amid your daydream fantasies.

    ¡°What is your plan? Which scrolls?¡±

    ¡°The basics, to start,¡± I replied. ¡°I have a penchant for [torchlight] after last week.¡± My grin invited him to join it. He did not. ¡°Then I thought I would try and¡ªtwist¡ªsome standard scrolls to fit a new purpose.¡± I received a single, raised eyebrow for that.

    ¡°To sum it up, Book. You, less than a week out from scribing your first scrolls (uh-oh, wait for it), are going to take centuries of hard work by generations of [Scrivener]s and twist it.¡±

    Gulp.

    ¡°I thought¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh, you thought? What, the sheer brilliance of your talents would outshine them all?¡±

    A new perspective could make a difference. And you could not get newer than me.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you still owe me for a new crystal, mixing carafe?¡±

    What? But I thought¡­? Yeah, ¡®thought¡¯. I get the point. I hope he didn''t mean it, for real. My coin purse as more pocket lint than precious metal.

    ¡°Sorry, sir.¡± It was time to show a little humility. ¡°I¡¯m getting ahead of myself, I know. I get so excited, thinking¡­uh, hoping¡­I can make a difference.¡± A difference in my coin purse.

    ¡°Understandable. Expected, even. It takes ambition to become a Master. Just do not overreach. I will bail you out, for a time. Then you must stand on your own feet, Book.¡±

    I was oddly touched. I wonder how many strikes he would give me?

    ¡°I understand, Master Alric. I¡¯ll do my best.¡±

    ¡°I am sure you will because I will be watching.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t ominous at all.

    ¡°If you are going to do this, I¡¯ll help you do it correctly.¡±

    I stepped aside as he made to move in front of the recipe cabinet. He gave each book a passing glance, straightening the mess I¡¯d made of things as he went. A small frown tugged his mouth down at the corners. I hoped it was a sign of concentration and not one of annoyance. The rings bejeweling his pudgy fingers flashed with refracted light from the morning sun as he held up a dogeared collection of yellowed papers.

    ¡°Here it is,¡± a rare smile turned his frown upside down. I have always wanted to use that in a real situation. He held the folio up so I could see it. ¡®Apprentice guide to the burgeoning [Scrivener]¡¯ was writ across the top in flowing calligraphy. What caught my eye, was under the title and scrawled in by hand. It was the initials, A.T.

    Alric Talvoryn.

    Was this my Master¡¯s first book of scrolls?

    Wait! I saw brackets! Not in my head, but actually printed on the cover. This could change everything!

    I really was not as smart as I always thought I was.

    Thought.

 Chapter 13: Blood Trails, Force Screens, and Backpacks

    Chapter 13:  Blood Trails, Force Screens, and Backpacks

    Today was new robe day. Yippee. I hadn¡¯t been able to take off early, like I hoped. Master Alric has taken my education seriously, of late. He had always been serious about it, honestly. It was my newfound drive that has changed. Not that I hadn''t applied myself diligently, of course, I had been. It was just that some of the initial fear had rubbed off. The routine had left me a little complacent, I admit. I wasn¡¯t trying only to survive, anymore. At first, yes. That is why I had tried my hand¡ªlegs!¡ªworking at ¡°J&T¡±¡¯s with Tess.

    I could remember it all, including the fear. Materializing on the planet¡¯s surface, both of us were naked, blood-drenched, and shaking from the violence. It had been lucky that Tess had the forethought to grab a pair of the packs stored close to the departure platform. I had only still been on my feet through sheer adrenaline. I had stumbled after Tess until she took a wrong turn.

    <hr>

    ¡°Tess, wait!¡± her fleeting form easily outpaced me. If I lost her, there were wet, red footprints painting the way she fled. The problem was, she zigged left when she should have zagged right. ¡°That¡¯s the wrong way!¡±

    She tried to stop short but was moving too fast. She slid past the door she¡¯d been aiming for, thank god! She turned to look back at me, her chest heaving in great gasps. There was a trail of red left behind her, like skate tracks on ice.

    ¡°That¡¯s the trash compactor room. We need to go right. Right!¡± There was no time for a Star Wars reference then.

    ¡°What?!¡± Her eyes were wild, trying to dart in every direction all at once. I couldn¡¯t blame her for being confused and turned around. The ship was a maze of stainless steel floors and white walls. It was all lit bright, but no lights or lamps could be seen. Our captors would have no trouble at all following our trail. Unless we could find one of the little, saucer-shaped cleaning bots. Commandeer it to hide our tracks. They were great at mopping the shiny floors free of pools of blood.

    ¡°Over here,¡± I gestured manically. I took the chance to play leader and hurried down the corridor leading to a possible escape. I had gotten a look at the ship¡¯s blueprints when one of my jailers had left a holo-screen turned on. Whatever the bastard had stuck in my head helped me recall them, showing me a snapshot of what I¡¯d seen... I had tried to lay it out for Tess, while we clung to each other in the aftermath of a group attempt to overpower our brutish guards. I had trouble thinking of them as Orcs, despite me being the one to say it first. It had been an easy quip from behind my cell¡¯s force screen. Not as much when their tusks tried to rip into your face and their spittle splashed your eyes.

    I had trouble keeping my feet under me for the first dozen steps. The freezing floor slicked generously with the blood leaking from my razed neck. If Steve hadn¡¯t clocked the brute in the head from behind, and those tusks a fraction of an inch longer, I wouldn¡¯t be here. I owed my life to Tess¡¯s oversized boyfriend. I couldn¡¯t even thank him, as he hauled off the floor and shoved me in her wake. We split, as per the plan.

    I was supposed to be fleeing with Carmen, and Tess with Steve. It didn¡¯t work out that way in the moment. No plan survives contact with the enemy. Tess did a double-take when she turned and saw it was me, and not Steve, who was laboring behind her. To her credit, she didn¡¯t say anything or even scowl. She just waved me after and continued to run.

    Now she was following me. I kept up my best pace, feeling her ragged breath on my shoulders. According to the blueprints I¡¯d gleaned, we had two more cross corridors to pass before reaching our target. Clearly marked, the wire-framed layout in my memory showed a room labeled matter-transmitter array. It was our best, frankly only, hope of survival. That is what my translation called it; Matter-transmitter Array. I inferred its purpose, so many hours of print and film only confirmed my thought process. What else could it be, but a transporter?

    The split had meant to divide our inevitable pursuers, the map showing two converging paths to the hoped-for transporter. I prayed the others would meet us there.

    We made it past the first intersection, only to run across a pair of Orcs patrolling the next. I bowled into one, taking us both down. I had the momentary advantage over the surprised Orc, with me on top of my much larger opponent. I couldn¡¯t hesitate, not and live.  My panicked hay-makers connected with the soft tissues of the throat under me. I kept swinging and swinging, breathless in fear. The guard started gurgling, red froth bubbling at his mouth.

    I tried to get up, slipped, and landed heavily on my right knee. Dammit! Using one hand to brace myself on the floor, I looked around for Tess. I needn¡¯t have worried, she was much more suited to fighting than me. The green-skinned jaw of her opponent hung loose, a broken tusk lying on the floor. I hadn¡¯t seen it, but I could imagine it. Tess coming in full blast, a half-step behind. Only a flying kick could account for the damage I saw. Now she kneeled, both joints pressed tight against the broken-jawed Orc¡¯s neck. She was the one who had told me to literally go for the throat. It was the only weak point we could see on the Orcs, so it had been our target from the beginning.

    Our eyes met, equally shocked. She helped me to my feet, and we limped together to the opaque force screen blocking us from our goal, leaving the corpses in our path.

    ¡°FUCK!¡± I screamed, the vibration tearing at my throat. I hardly ever cursed, but if there was a situation that called for it, it was this one. ¡°Why didn¡¯t I think of this?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s OK, OK. What do we do now, Book? Come on, you¡¯ve got it. You¡¯re the smart one.¡±

    It was nice to hear, but I disagreed completely. If I was so smart, why didn¡¯t I realize there¡¯d be a force screen and not a door we could just push through? Our cells hadn¡¯t had physical doors, and none of us had seen anything but more of the same. Not that we¡¯d been given a guided tour of the spaceship. Just what we could see when we were taken to the various experimentation rooms.Stolen novel; please report.

    Before I could clear my mind, and try to think of a solution, the unseen lights started pulsing a sickly orange. The strobes were accompanied by a blaring klaxon, signaling our escape attempt, no doubt. There was no time, no time!

    The dark force screen flicked out of existence.

    ¡°Go! Go!¡±

    What had just happened?

    Tess must have seen the hesitation born of my confusion and grabbed me by the hand.

    When I resisted¡ªI have no idea why, other than shock¡ªshe put her face less than an inch from mine and locked eyes with me. Then she screamed.

    ¡°Book! Listen to me, we have to move! Now!¡±

    I couldn¡¯t move.

    ¡°Book,¡± Tess tried again. ¡°Book¡­Jasper!¡±

    That got through.

    I nodded, cracking my forehead against hers. When mine started to bounce off, she wrapped both her hands around the back of my head and pulled me close. Our heads rested together, the contact giving me courage. I blinked rapidly, before breaking the connection. I tried to calm my heart, only to find it beating slower than it should have, considering.

    I went over to a console dominating the center of the space, while Tess prowled the edges of the circular room. She looked in every shadowed corner and tried opening anything she could. The orange glow of the alarm clashed with the green text of what I assumed was the control panel. I read what I could as fast as I could. Please be idiot-proof!

    ¡°Where are they? Come on, Steve! Carmen! Please¡­please,¡± Tess stood at an opening mirroring the one we¡¯d come in through. In theory, Carmen and Steve should be barreling in at any moment.

    ¡°Controls, controls,¡± I muttered as I scanned. We knew the ship we were in was orbiting a planet. We¡¯d pieced it together, adding up everything and anything the five¡­four¡­of us had garnered. I had even seen some still photos from the surface. What I saw could only be summed up one way; Elves. Orcs and Elves, flying saucers, and matter transporters. Had I died all those weeks ago? Was any of this real, or a delusion brought on by neurons firing off in the throes of death? I¡¯d heard that was the basis for the saying, ¡®I saw my life passing before my eyes.¡¯

    I couldn¡¯t have more than moments to figure out how to get us to the surface of the planet. I found a sub-folder several steps down in the directives. Opening it, an image of an Earth-like world poped up, with lots of green and blue. When I focused in on it, a hologram started spinning above the console. I didn¡¯t have time to read the full list of the attributes displayed, but I did catch the coordinates of a few major population centers that had been mapped out. There was also a header labeling the world Planet EH-103, in bold type.

    While I was fiddling with the controls, Tess found a collection of large packs stored in the room. She dragged four of them over to a raised platform, placed against the wall and midway between the open doorways. And she called me smart.

    I started punching numbers into a display, the coordinates of the biggest city marked on the planet below. I changed the latitude marker by one degree. I didn¡¯t want to plop us down smack dab in the city¡¯s center. Desperately playing the virtual keyboard like a virtuoso, I looked for a timed delay option. Finding what I thought was everything needed to disassemble us here and reassemble us there, I limped to the platform holding the packs.

    ¡°Tess,¡± I called out, my voice croaking from the damage.

    ¡°They¡¯re not here, Book! Where are they?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, I¡¯m sorry.¡± I dreaded it, but said it anyway. ¡°Tess, we¡¯re out of time.¡±

    ¡°No, no, no¡­no.¡±

    ¡°Tess, we have to¡­we all agreed to go, no matter what happened to the others. No matter!¡±

    ¡°God dammit, Book, I know that! I¡¯m the one that made us all promise it.¡±

    I could see the timer countdown, the alien numbers clear steadily marching to zero. I had left it to hover in the air, see-able from anywhere in the small room. I knew Tess could see it, and read it. We all knew the text, instantly translating in our mind¡¯s eye.

    ¡°Tess.¡± All I did was say her name. Quiet, but firm. I didn¡¯t beg, and I did not demand. Just spoke. She hung her head.

    Tess slumped her shoulders, hunching forward like an old lady on her last legs. She shuffled my way. I wanted to scream at her to hurry but restrained the urge. How could they have not caught up to us, yet, I didn¡¯t know. Either the Orcs or our friends should have found us by now.

    I watched the numbers tick down. Tess placed one foot in front of the other. I didn¡¯t know which would win out.

    Tess made it by one second.

    <hr>

    I stiffed the scream wanting to escape my grasp. My throat hurt too much to let it out. A warm trickle that I could only assume was blood trickled its way to my stomach. Puking it back up terrified me. I knew it was coming, there was no getting over it.

    Tess riffled through the packs. Our first priority was something to wear. Neither of us cared about the nudity, at least not yet. We were cold and wet with blood; our friends¡¯, our enemies¡¯¡ªOrc blood was a surprisingly appealing lavender¡ªand our own. I would even take one of the silver skin-suits at this point.

    ¡°Ha, found something,¡± she called out. I was supposed to be on sentry, but without some adrenaline flooding my system, I was dead on my feet.

    I limped over to see what treasure she had found. Clothes! They were rough but clean. For some reason, they were sized to fit us. Or the ¡®us¡¯ we had become. I was a good four to five inches taller, topping six feet with room to spare. Tess, as well. And she might have been fit before, but I sure had not been. I had never been this toned. I even had visible abs for the first time.

    Not wanting to soil our new clothes with blood, we ripped one of the shirts into rags. There were a couple of skins filled with water, so we used a sparing amount to wash down. We didn¡¯t know how far we were from¡­anything. Frugal was the watchword.

    We both seemed to notice we were bare-assed at the same time. Facing away into the darkness of the night, we quickly scrambled to get dressed. There was nothing new to see. We had not had any clothes since we crossed that damn field. Our captors cared nothing for the nakedness of their subjects. Made it easier to check the healing of surgical incisions. We¡¯d been too scared to care much, ourselves. Once we¡¯d escaped and set foot on solid ground, that seemed to change.

    It was all perspective. Being covered now gave a sense of comfort, a return to some form of normality. How could things ever be normal for us, again?

    Clad in our new outfits, we waited for dawn to break, bracing to face what came next.

    <hr>

    The bell above the front door to ¡°Harmsson & Tak; *enchanted tailors*¡± had a different tone than the one over ¡°Papers & Powers.¡± Just a random observation, on my part. The only thing that mattered was the attention it got from the clerk manning the service counter. She was red-haired and pale-skinned.

    ¡°Uh, Book, right?¡± She asked, with her flirt back on. A consummate professional.

    ¡°Yup, that¡¯s me. How are things?¡± So smooth.

    When she frowned there was a cute little crease between her eyes. I seemed to revert to Earth slang around her, for some reason.

    ¡°Things¡­are good?¡±  A half question, half statement. I was here on business, after all.

    ¡°Any movement on the bulletin boards?¡±

    ¡°Yes, they turn over regularly.¡± She took it literally. ¡°Let me go to the back, and I¡¯ll get your new robes for you, OK?¡±

    ¡°Sounds good.¡±

    When she came out from the back, I was going to ask if she knew of any adventure teams needing basic scrolls.

    Oh, yeah. Her name, too.

 Chapter 14: (Not) Crystal balls, Desks, and Black Magic

    Chapter 14: (Not) Crystal Balls, Desks, and Black Magic

    The new robes were great. Not only the self [clean]ing, but guaranteed to recharge for a full year, instead of a handful of times before needing to be replaced. Replacing meant a whole new set of robes, too. The enchantment had to be placed in the cloth at the start of the tailoring. It couldn¡¯t just be tacked on as an afterthought, or a replacement. It was the same as what a [Scrivener] did, infusing the parchment and ink with [mana], and then putting the two together with intent. It was how the magic worked. That is what I have been told, anyway (it seemed an awful lot like smartphones and planned obsolescence, right?).

    A little more upfront, and all that.

    The fit of my new robes was also better¡ªthe cut, styling, and materials. Tohd Harmsson was a friend of Alric¡¯s and supplied my Master with all of his robes. Of course, the two sets that were a part of my apprentice allotment were from a second-hand shop. I was saving up for another set, after paying Tess back, obviously. It was more incentive to get my side project up and running.

    ¡°Book, how are your exercises coming along,¡± Master Alric asked.

    ¡°Good, Master,¡± I replied. ¡°I would say I have increased my [mana] reservoir by at least a quarter.¡±

    ¡°Good, good. How about we find out, then?¡±

    I set aside the new batch of ink I had been mixing. It was time for the mix to cure, so Master Alric had impeccable timing. I¡¯m sure he¡¯d chosen it on purpose.

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± I followed him out of my closet¡­uh, graciously given workspace. And it wasn¡¯t under the stairs.

    My Master took a moment to survey my new robes. I got a short nod of approval. Appearances mattered, and an apprentice should strive to emulate their Master. I just wished it hadn¡¯t cost so much. Out of my pocket, not his.

    He led me to a section of the storefront that was set aside as his own workstation. It was positioned under the larger of the front windows, allowing the best natural lighting to fall on his work. The glass was one, large, unblemished sheet. No collection of small, individual panes as was the penchant for most businesses. It must have cost a fortune. Nothing but the best would do. I thought it looked too much like a window display for my taste. I would wilt under the scrutiny of any passersby. Staged with care and maximum bang for the buck. Would the Master frost it with fake snow for the winter solstice?

    Alric settled into an over-stuffed armchair on wheels. An office executive¡¯s chair. The desk it was behind was heavy, polished, and imposing. And oversized. If Master Alric had been dressed in a pin-striped suit and not luxurious robes, I would think I had been summoned to the Dean¡¯s office back at university. Was there a hint of striping on those robes?

    ¡°Ahh,¡± he sighed, sinking into the plush cushions. I winced whenever I sat on my hard stool. I stood to attention across from the expanse of wood between us.

    Master Alric pulled a round, clear sphere on a brass-legged stand from a shelf. It was covered in a purple, silk cloth. I am not going to think, crystal ball. Nope.

    He pulled the silk off with a flourish and set it aside after folding it into a precise square. Alric then put it on the front of his desk, closer to me. I took a deep breath, held it, and then slowly let the air escape. Next, I placed both hands on the crys¡­glass sphere. I let my [mana] infuse the instrument, willing it to manifest. A dark, emerald-green mist began to swirl in the center of the glass, spreading to fill a good portion. Once the color started to slow down and stop spreading, I remembered my lesson on bribery. I had known that this test was going to come, it was the same one I had taken before Master Alric had accepted me as his apprentice. The misty vortex was larger, denser, and richer in color, this time. After my time here learning, if it had not been there would be a problem. But I wasn¡¯t content, and I had a plan loaded up and ready.

    What did the [mana] want from me? How could I entice more of it out from the vessel inside of me? Artificial though it may be. I hadn¡¯t figured out how that might help. An oversight I would need to remedy, soon.

    I didn¡¯t want to delve too deeply into purpose. There was no way I could afford to replace the¡ªfine! I¡¯ll say it¡ªcrystal ball. That was arrogant to an awful degree, wasn¡¯t it? Me being able to crack such an impressive [mana] tool with my talent. Pure hubris. it was better than self-deprecating, but I did not want to overcorrect too drastically. ¡®Balance,¡¯ my therapist had always been telling me. That was the key to a healthy mindset.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡®Work with me, and we can show our potential. Prove our mettle to a Master of craft, be worthy of becoming¡­more.¡¯ I did not beg, didn¡¯t grovel before the [mana]. I offered it a partnership of equals. One where we could become greater than the sum of our parts.

    ¡°Book?¡±

    ¡®Give me just a little bit more, just a tad¡­¡¯

    ¡°Book,¡± Master Alric¡¯s voice was faint in my ears. ¡°Stop, do not damage yourself.¡±

    ¡®Give¡­¡¯

    Damage?

    I opened my eyes, not having noticed closing them in the first place. Emerald mist clouded half the globe, its shading edging towards black. I felt weak, my legs rubbery. I had always heard that you shouldn¡¯t lock your knees, but it was the only thing holding me upright. My lower back spasmed, my balance threatening to tilt me to the floor. Feeling an imminent collapse, I rested both hands on the desk in front of me. Locking my elbows. Oh, well, joint damage be damned. I was still standing.

    ¡°Master?¡±

    ¡°It is possible to cause damage to your abilities. Notice the blackening of your [mana]? It shows too much strain, corrupting the [mana].¡±

    I hadn¡¯t heard of that before; corrupted [mana]. It sounded bad. Every [mana] user had a unique shade of color for themselves. My was an emerald green, obviously. The colors didn¡¯t matter, akin to a signature. However, fingerprints might be a better comparison. Those can not be changed. I had evolved my own signature over the years, putting more character in it than the lazy loops of my younger self. None of that mattered, but possible corruption sure did. No black [mana], noted. Are we talking literal ¡®black magic¡¯?

    ¡°What happens, Master, if the [mana] becomes corrupted? Does it change the outcome, or something else?¡± I hesitated. ¡°Worse?¡±

    ¡°I behoove you to never find out, Apprentice Book.¡±

    Now that was formal. More so than usual, so ¡®worse¡¯ was my answer. Master Alric tended to use my name a good bit. Not Jasper; never Jasper. He did not even know my given name. And no one on this world was ever going to, aside from Tess. There was no DMV here, thank the Mother of Tress. Bless her roots.

    I started to ask more, but the look I was getting from Master Alric stopped me cold.

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± I waited a beat. ¡°I did do better, though.¡± Not quite a question. I didn¡¯t want to seem too eager. Keeping the arrogance in my head was a good move on my part. I congratulated myself with a pat on the back. Not literally, of course. I did not want to look silly, besides, my elbows were locked in place.

    ¡°Yes, you did,¡± Alric responded. ¡°A significant improvement. The exercises are doing their job.¡±

    ¡°I do them every night, just like you told me to, Master,¡± I said to fill the void, eager to please. I think the locked joints were restricting blood flow to my brain. I felt woozy.

    ¡°Yes. I think we can graduate you from [torchlight] scrolls, and move on to something else, now.¡±

    Hallelujah! Visions of [fireball] and [ice blast] danced in my head.

    ¡°We will work on a basic [heat] scroll, next, I think.¡±

    Okay, fire adjacent. That¡¯ll do. It would save me some coins if I didn¡¯t have to buy those from Master Alric, anymore. I could put those coppers towards the quick insert mechanism for my scroll in the pipes prototype. I envisioned hot water in every home and a steady flow of coin into my purse. I would have to ask Alric if he knew of a good, umm¡­ What would you call them, a pipe-fitter? Plumber? Someone who could help me with figuring out the proper application I needed. My Master had a ¡®guy¡¯ for everything.

    ¡°For, now,¡± Alric said. ¡°I want you to work on the quality of your ink. You are consistent with [ink; common]. Dare I say, uncommonly consistent.¡± Duty called, so I smiled with him. If he only knew that I had a shortcut for it. ¡°I want you to start aiming for [ink; good].¡±

    ¡°I will, Master.¡± Enough time had passed that I could unlock both elbows and knees. I straightened, revisiting the urge to rub at the small of my back. ¡°I¡¯ll start on it immediately.¡± Sensing I was dismissed, I turned to leave.

    ¡°Oh, and book?¡± He stopped me. ¡°Lose the arrogance. It is unbecoming.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master,¡± I managed to say past my shock. I was caught, well and true. And here I¡¯d thought I had done a good job hiding it. Gotta work on those facial expressions some more.

    I tried to be casual as I headed back to my used school desk of a workstation. I had been leaning on my shortcut [Skill], possibly a little too much. It exhausted me quicker, but I couldn¡¯t resist. I guessed the sudden drop in [mana], over the gradual slope of using the manual method was what tired me out. Tess said the same happened when she used her [sprint; common]. Worth it in the moment, but the coming of the tax man was inevitable. You had to pay the ferryman. ¡®Don¡¯t pay the ferryman, don¡¯t even fix a price¡­¡¯ Cris de Burgh sang in my head. Another great one, not many Gen Z¡¯ers would have heard of. Thanks, Dad. If I could remember the lyrics correctly, I might bribe the regular bard that sang at the ¡°Inkspot¡± tavern, down on the corner of Parchment Lane and 53rd Street, with a few mugs of ale. Maybe a finger or two of the house whiskey. Tequila shots weren¡¯t a thing, much to Tess¡¯ dismay. I was OK without them, brrap! I could still taste the sourness of agave mixed with late-night tacos from the last Spirit Week celebration on campus. Projectile vomiting in the waste basket had been my last taste of the nasty stuff. It was not going on the list of things to introduce to this particular fantasy world. Guess what fellow, displaced human, and now roommate, had laughed her ass off at me?

    Distraction, distraction, distraction.

    I was getting good at the infusion process for mixing ink. The next step would be to refine the [mana] as it left me. Quality over quantity. Both if I could manage it. That was the end goal. In time, Book. In time. Hopefully, this was something the Orcs had considered. If that was indeed the case, then there should be a way to set filters or such-like. How filters (or such-like, he-he. Good compound word) would even function was about as clear as how an artificial organ could be a magic repository.

    More opaque than ink.

 Chapter 15: Pipes, Pestle, and Vermiculite

    Chapter 15:  Pipes, Pestle, and Vermiculite

    ¡°We never should have crossed that damned field.¡±

    Good morning, good morning.

    My joints ached, paying penance for yesterday¡¯s stress. A good, hot shower awaited me. A large tub would be ideal, but the apartment didn¡¯t rate one. I made my way to our small bathroom, relieving an itch absentminded. I scratched my ass, OK? Tess was long gone, as usual, so I turned my fingers loose to have at it. Aahh, pure bliss. I heeled the door closed behind me, and reached for the hem of my nightshirt. An actual, honest to Ebenezer nightshirt. I loved it! The freedom, comfort, and warmth were amazing. Why these had ever fallen out of fashion on Earth was a mystery (don¡¯t let me catch you standing over the heating vent!). I hung the garment on one of the two hooks attached to the door; His and Hers. Platonic.

    I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I reached for the shower lever. It only needed the one, with cold-to-lukewarm the single option before the genius that was me came along. It was hard not to see the mirror over the sink, with only enough room to turn in place. ¡®I look too thin¡¯. That was a thought I had never had before. I could see ribs, for acorn¡¯s sake! I was trying out a new curse. An extrapolation from the Son of God to the Mother of Trees¡¯ seedling (blasphemer!). I hope I don¡¯t find out about this world¡¯s version of hell, firsthand. On the good side, gluttony could not be frowned upon with the amount of fuel [mana] users needed to thrive. I was going to need to pad our grocery bills. Tess looked like she could use a few more calories, too. The problem was one of coin. Coppers and silvers had a way of solving most of a person¡¯s troubles. Or golds, for someone like Master Alric. His ¡®padding¡¯ was nothing short of magnificent. Money solutions were ubiquitous. Nothing new, or unique, there. Here, there, and everywhere, throughout the cosmos.

    I checked the temperature of the water before stepping in. A little tepid. It was getting time to replace the scroll of [heat]. If I put a little more work in, I could start using the scrolls I made. Tess and I were always careful when activating the scroll in the pipes. If it was fully engaged all at once, not only would it go poof, but we could look forward to a painful scalding. These scrolls were meant for warming large rooms, in lieu of a fireplace. No chopping of wood needed. As such, the temperature had to be variable for the different seasons, as well as long-lasting. The more [mana] put in by the user, the more [heat] it put out. Simple. But you had to be judicious, or the scroll could discharge all in one go. Dried out plants, beware. Dead leaves were ripe for ignition. Same for unwary bathers. Not the combusting part.

    I let the water cascade over me, the residual heat soaking into my joints and loosening them. I stared at the shower head and mentally traced where I imagined the pipes behind the walls would be. If I could find the best stretch of piping and open access to it, then I could use it for my contraption. The way it was now, I placed the scrolls just above the nozzle, unscrewing it from a short section of plumbing that protruded out of the ceiling. Elven showers resembled what Earthers called a rain shower. It was an awkward reach, stretching your arms overhead and leveraging the connections. It probably wreaked havoc with the seals, too. I wanted a quick change feature for my idea, not to provide fodder for a lawsuit. Yes, there are elven lawyers. What happens when you give the little blue pill to a lawyer? They grow taller. Ba-dump-bump.

    I had a few designs in my head:  a removable section of pipe; removable/replaceable links; something with a trap door; an over-the-pipe clamp; a water softener setup.  Using a straight-up filter would not work, since the scrolls weren¡¯t permeable after the final process to seal in the magic.  They were waterproof, which was where my idea had taken root. They had to be impervious to water. A soggy magic scroll dissolving and disintegrating mid-combat during an underwater adventure did not bode well for repeat customers. No self-respecting merchant could afford that. Wow, everything did come back to money.

    I put visions of diving into a pool filled to the rim with gold coins aside and wrapped things up before I depleted the charge too much. Thinking about the replacement costs got me fired up to make my own. I shelved my design schematics¡ªworks in progress, so no judgment¡ªand dashed to my room. I had already hung my wet towel from another hook to dry, so I ran the naked mile. About six paces, in total. I dressed in my nice robes, combed fingers through an ever-flourishing beard, skipped breakfast (what about rib-tickling thinness, huh?!), and headed for the scroll shop.

    <hr>

    ¡°Today, Book, we are starting you on [heat] scrolls.¡±

    ¡®Yes¡¯, I thought in glee. I avoided fist-pumping the air, but it was a close thing. I finished chewing the last bite of my sticky roll (gotcha!) before I could reply. He had found me polishing off my breakfast as I sat at my worktable. I was using some scrap paper and a vial of old [ink; poor] to doodle some designs for the prototype. The ink was from my very first attempt. Master Alric kept it around as a ¡®motivator¡¯¡ªhis word¡ªfor me. I wanted to be offended, but couldn¡¯t be. It did help.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Thank you, Master Alric.¡± Judging from the look he gave, I might have been a touch too enthusiastic.

    ¡°The ink you need is a small variation on what you already know how to make. All inks used by [Scrivener]s start with the same base, as I have taught you. For the [torchlight], I had you add liquid paraffin during the mixing phase, along with the charcoal dust. It gives a long-lasting, clean burn. Perfect for lighting up a chamber. For a sustained [heat] without flames, replace the paraffin with vermiculite.¡±

    ¡°Master?¡±

    ¡°Vermiculite. It is a mineral reagent. Yellow-green crystals that are ground down into grains. It comes to us much too large, so you will need to use a mortar and pestle and grind it as fine as possible. The smaller the particle, the better it will integrate with the ink.¡±

    My poor forearms were in for a workout, today. Why should only the elbows and knees feel the burn? Ooh, unintentional joke! Go me, I¡¯m on fire. (Eye roll)

    ¡°And remember, Book, quality. Focus on the quality of the ink you need. Not want, Book, but need. Your mindset can make all the difference. Wanting lets you off the hook for common quality. There is no real consequence if you do not succeed. On the other hand, a person needs food, and they only want dessert. Understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master. I do.¡± Was that a jab? Did I have any caramel goo clinging to my beard? Talk about a turnabout. I don¡¯t think he will ever forgive me for catching him disheveled that morning. Appearances mattered, dontcha know.

    ¡°The recipe is in the folio I gave you. Get to it, then,¡± Master Alric dismissed me.

    As I began to walk away, ¡°Oh, and Book.¡± He liked to do that, catch me after the fact. ¡°When you are working the pestle, maybe you can take a hint from it.¡± With that, he swirled in a flash of silken robes and marched off.

    ¡°Take a hint?¡± I asked the empty room. ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    I moved the mortar from its place in the ring on my table and put it front and center. I tapped the glass pestle against its chipped marble, thinking.

    Tap, tap¡­

    Tap.

    <hr>

    I let my mind wander, something I had a lot of practice with. My hand used the pestle to grind, with the other one holding the mortar in place. Mortar and pestle, mortar and pestle; fun words, but a chore to use. I had once asked Master Alric why most things had to be done by hand, with no automation. [Enchanter]s could automate things, as evidenced by the close-to-Earth norm kitchens and appliances. We had a few in our apartment, mixers and toasters (sideways!), and more. There were differences, sure, but magic could replicate a lot of science. Congruent evolutions. Same principles, with divergent energies. He had told me that the base of magic required an individual dedication at every step. We are back to intent. Automation had no soul, so to speak (soul to speak, he-he). Similar thoughts had been evident on Earth with the advent of assembly lines. Craft beer and soda over the mass produced; hand-crafted furniture over machine-made. The robes I had recently bought were a prime example. Automation was a fine end result, but the process of getting there was paramount to using magic.

    So, I ground the crystal to a super-fine dust.

    My Master had all but told me that the key to quality was at my¡ªliteral¡ªfingertips. The finer the particles were, the better they would mix in the ink. Not just mix, but blend. I had been thinking of filters to refine the [mana], removing all but the finest particles. If I did the same with the [mana] as I had with the vermiculite, breaking it down fine and only letting the best through, then the quality should go up. At that point, it would blend smoother with my intent. Light bulb!

    How did this fit with my artificial reservoir organ and genetically altered DNA? My best guess was an amalgamation of tech and magic, however that worked. The Orcs had figured it out with the [Mark .07], so all I needed was to find the proper sub-routine. I was sure it was there. All it would take to find it was, yep, intent.

    There was the master key I needed.

    I concentrated, merging my thoughts with the .07 to a new degree. It knew what I wanted from it, so I let it lead me. Different filters shaded my vision one after the other, all of the spectrums known to Man and Orc. It settled on bright white, with only the vaguest outlines to differentiate objects.  I focused on the timepiece shelved over my worktable, the rhythmic, twisting grind of my hands on autopilot (not automation, OH NO!).

    Quiet you, I¡¯m trying to focus here.

    The outline of the clock took on a yellowish hue, with a very mild pulse of intensity with every tick.

    I looked to the vial of [ink; poor] that I¡¯d set to the side. Its outline was a dull green. It was close to the color my [mana] exhibited in the testing crystal, but the wavelength was off.

    Then I compared the chunked vermiculite to the fine powder I¡¯d kept working at with intent (thank you very much) while another part of my mind looked for solutions. The bigger bits gave off a different shade of green than mine, softer, while the fine dust had a sparkle to it.

    I got it.

    First, the white filter let me see [mana]. Amazing! wasn¡¯t accurate enough. I had long hours of playing with it ahead of me. I might have to cut into my [mini-map] playtime.

    Second, using the filter would let me see if my refinement efforts worked in real-time. Orc-tech cheat codes to the rescue.

    I knew I now had the means to experiment, so I got to it.

 Chapter 16: Filters, [Spell]s, and Tags

    Chapter 16:  Filters, [Spell]s, and Tags

    *[Scrivener]¡¯s ink, good quality, 239 ml.

    Crafted by Jasper Bookmyer, Apprentice.

    Bonded by Alric Tavoryn, Master.*

    [Folder]->[Skill]-><ul>

    <li>

    1. [Translation; superior]

    2. [Ink; poor]->[Ink; common]->[Ink; good]

    3. [Open]¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­

    4. [Open]¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­

    5. [Open]¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­..

    There it was, spelled out in boxy, green letters, after a week of concentrating and honing in on my best approach to increasing quality. The white filter, which I had labeled [Mana-sight] with the [Mark .07]¡¯s customization settings, had proved invaluable. I looked closely at the new ink carafe and noticed the volume drop. It looked to have lost a little less than half during the final processing. It made sense, I supposed. When alcohol was distilled, it lost volume, too. Of course, that was from the evaporation of water molecules, leaving a concentration behind. I doubt that is what happened in this case. Sure, the ink had water in it, it was a liquid. I leaned toward a theory along the lines of purified [mana], removing all the impurities. Except that fell apart with the realization that [mana] was energy, and energy didn¡¯t take up space. You could not weigh it. But, then how did it work with the physical manifestation of magic? Green Lantern style, maybe? I needed a primer for magical theory. For now, distillation worked for my purpose.

    I could start using smaller vessels for mixing. The few times I had seen Master Alric personally make ink for his scrolls, I¡¯d noticed he used much smaller mixing containers. My carafes, compared to his vials, had seemed like overkill, at first. Who would need a carafe of ink? Carafes were for orange juice. Now that I was scribing magic scrolls myself, I knew why. The quill I used was closer to a small paintbrush. I needed to use a lot of [ink; common] to get usable results out of the scrolls. [Ink; poor] wasn¡¯t even an option. The [mana] infused parchments soaked it up like a shipwrecked sailor and a keg of rum. I had seen some of the greater scrolls Master Alric created, and they were certainly not scribbled in heavy paint strokes.  They were inked in the fine, narrow letters of a master calligrapher. With flawless penmanship, they were truly works of art. Highly ornate with intricate designs and sweeping embellishments.  I had seen pictures of ''The Book of Kells'', considered the greatest of Ireland''s treasures, and Alric¡¯s masterworks gave it a run for the money.

    Seeing [ink; good] listed under [Skill]s gave me the warm fuzzies. I also liked how the drop-down menu presented it. With only five [Skill] slots available, I could have lost three to just ink making. It was good to see that a highly technological race such as the orcs¡ªSpace Orcs!¡ªhad not made such a foolish blunder.

    So, if I had five [Skill] slots, and three [Spell-slot]s¡ªyeah, the nomenclature wasn¡¯t always consistent, that was the [Mark .07] for you (not even first gen, sheesh)¡ªwhat happened when they were filled? I had noticed some spelling mistakes, too. ¡®!¡¯ and ¡®$¡¯ sometimes replaced their obvious, letter associations. But enough of that, back to the beginning. Filled slots, and what happens after. Fingers crossed, I¡¯d be Level 2! Or [Level], if I was right. I would check in on Tess over dinner tonight, and see where she was sitting on [Skill]s.

    Getting home after a good day at the shop, I was in high spirits. I didn¡¯t even care it was my turn to cook dinner. It would be nice to buy dinner from our favorite spot, the place with the sticky buns, but alas. I could not afford it. Tess had been defaulting to it when her turn came around. No complaints, here. Her cooking tended to leave a bad taste in the mouth. But, I sure envied her tips for a job well down. All I got was inner satisfaction. Good feelings didn¡¯t buy the bacon.

    I found some dried pasta in the cupboard. I could pair it with some Parmesan analog Tess had come across on a run, throw in garlic¡ªit put the universal in the universe¡ªand some spices, and wallah, we had an Alfredo in the making. Mushrooms, it needed mushrooms. I loved mushrooms! Take that, Jake. I pulled a variety mix of them out of the cooler and set them on the counter with the pasta, garlic, and spices. A pair of self [heat]ing pots, one for the water and one for the sauce, and away I went.

    The Alfredo was well along when Tess made it home. Not only did she start her day earlier than me, but she finished later, too. It made sense that she earned more coin than I did. Still sucked.  Speaking of the suck, she was not alone when she came through the front door.

    ¡°Book, it smells amazing in here!¡±

    ¡°Just a little something I threw together.¡± Always be modest. But, I was getting better at cooking. My dorm-mate had always left the cooking channel on when he studied, a habit I¡¯d carried since. Some of it must have stuck. I¡¯d never put it to the test, before. Now, I had to fend for myself. I couldn''t afford not to.

    ¡°Yo, Book,¡± this was from her companion. Kolin. They were still a thing, apparently.

    ¡°Hey, Kolin. Back from a grand adventure?¡±

    ¡°You know it,¡± He shot me a grin. Cocky bastard. The only thing his words needed were an addendum; ¡®Bro¡¯, ¡®Dude¡¯, ¡®My Man¡¯, or such. I could almost hear it.

    ¡°He and his team,¡± Tess said. ¡°They took on a pack of wolf-bats. Tore ¡®em up, dude!¡±

    Team Brawn, he-he. And I doubt it was a ¡®pack¡¯ of wolf-bats. At most, maybe two or three of them. They were nasty buggers from what I¡¯d heard.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Kool-kool,¡± I said. ¡°Anyway, I hope you¡¯re hungry, My Girl.¡± OK, that was just wrong. I fell prey to my own wit. It was cute when Tess said stuff like it.

    ¡°Always, Book. You¡¯ve seen me wolf down pasta like there was no tomorrow.¡±

    I sure had. That was cute, too.

    ¡°So, got enough if Kolin stays?¡±

    I¡¯d been afraid of that. ¡°No problem. I made enough sauce for two meals, and I can always throw in more pasta.¡± Discovering dried pasta here had been a godsend. It was between that and rolled oats that kept us fed.

    ¡°Thanks¡­dude?¡­,¡± Kolin told me. ¡°Did I use that right, hon? Dude?¡±

    Tess was a tall girl, so she didn¡¯t have to reach up to give Kolin a peck on the lips. My jaw hurt from all the teeth grinding. I held my smile.

    ¡°Got it in one, babe.¡± Kolin looked confused at the slang, and Tess¡¯s pet names started to wear thin on me.

    She shrugged his look off. I ignored it.

    We were sitting around, eating plates piled high with mushroom Alfredo. Tess and Kolin took the couch, and I sat cross-legged on the floor. Kolin jabbered on about his latest adventure non-stop, only pausing to slurp up noodles. There was sauce on his chin. I smiled and nodded.

    ¡°You have got to tell him, Tess. You got your first combat spell, today!¡±

    What was that? What did he just say? ¡°Tess?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± she said. I could see a little sheepishness hiding in her brown eyes. Was she not going to tell me? ¡°It happened so fast. I was on one of Jez¡¯s special runs, carrying some sort of valuables. She never tells me what¡¯s in the pouch. Anyway, I¡¯m running along when this pair of thugs block me. One in front, one behind. The first guy brandished a knife at me and started to say something, probably something cliche. ¡®Give me all your money¡­¡¯¡± She tried for a deep voice here. ¡°I didn¡¯t wait to hear, not wanting to bother, you know? So I barely slowed my pace, then kicked him¡ªflat-footed¡ªright in the balls as hard as I could.¡±

    Tess laughed, and Kolin and I cupped our jewels. Every man ever born involuntarily winced when they heard something like this. Apparently, elves did too. Now I knew their parts matched human anatomy. Girls, too¡­? Also involuntary (oink-oink, piggy).

    ¡°I bet he lifted six inches off the ground, ha! Then I did a little spin maneuver around him, activated [sprint; common], and that was that. I didn¡¯t expect to get a [Spell] out of it.¡±

    There, the brackets! (they can be heard) They changed placement, right after I had been thinking about it. Coincidence, or influence?

    ¡°I heard a¡­,¡± she hesitated, looking at Kolin. ¡°¡­a gurgle as I ran past.¡±

    ¡°Ooh, babe,¡± Kolin scrunched his face in mock misery. ¡°Please don¡¯t say things like that.¡± He tossed me a look of solidarity. If things get going like this, a tooth is bound to crack from all the grinding.

    I knew what she had started to say. She¡¯d heard the *Ding!*.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± a huge yawn split her face. ¡°That was my day.¡±

    Kolin and I let go of sympathy yawns. There might have been a hint of¡­hint¡­in mine.

    ¡°Oh man, I¡¯m wiped. And I have an early day tomorrow, like¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­usual,¡± the two of us sang in harmony. We shared a genuine smile.

    Tess stood and pulled Kolin up off the couch with her. She clung to his arm as she led him to the door.

    ¡°So, Tess,¡± Kolin asked on his way out. ¡°Have you thought any more about¡­¡±

    ¡°Later, Kolin,¡± she replied. ¡°Right now, I need some shut-eye. Lunch tomorrow, at Garlyn¡¯s cafe?¡±

    ¡°Sure thing.¡± He pulled her in for a kiss. A little too long in the midst of company, I thought.

    I was glad when the door shut behind him. Now we could talk about a few shared things.

    ¡°You heard the *Ding!*¡± It was not a question.

    ¡°I heard the *Ding!*.¡±

    ¡°What does it say?¡± I asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s called [Powered Front Kick.]¡± She read the complete description for me.

    [Powered Front Kick; common]: Execute a front-facing kick, enhanced by the user¡¯s [mana]. This spell can be upgraded. The next evolution will enable [variable] strength levels.

    ¡°Variable? That sounds useful.¡±  Significantly more useful than my one--and only one--spell, [Apprenticeship Unlock; common].

    ¡°Definitely. And the evolution part, that sounds like [Level]s, right?¡± She was bouncing on her feet.

    ¡°Yes, it does. Now we just have to get there,¡± I said.

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°According to my HUD, there are five slots for [Skill]s, and three for [Spell]s.¡± Had the brackets changed for her, too? Not important, yet, so I¡¯d ask later.

    ¡°Same.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got [translation; superior]¡­¡±

    ¡°Yup.¡±

    ¡°¡­ [Ink; poor]->[Ink; common]->[Ink; good],¡± I told her my thoughts on the chain.

    ¡°Makes sense,¡± she nodded. ¡°I have [sprint; common].¡±

    Hers wasn¡¯t chained with a ¡®poor¡¯ tag. Good for her. Not to brag (right!), but I had a ¡®good¡¯ tag.

    ¡°I have my new [PFK], and you¡¯ve got your unlock thing.¡±

    OK, she had me there. I may have achieved my spell first, but her¡¯s was combat-oriented. Not that I wanted to get into fights, but it was still cool. And Tess had said it wasn¡¯t unusual for [Courier]s. It made sense, since they often ran into trouble on the road, and needed to defend themselves. I got the impression this led to a fair number of [Courier]s straying into the adventurer life. Tess¡¯s¡­friend, Kolin (official boyfriend, the doof), was a prime example. I knew he was dropping hints that Tess join him down that path. It had been obvious, at the door.  She was not biting, yet, but there was a new gleam in her eye when we talked after he left. I did not like it, not one bit. But what could I do? If I opposed it too much, I could see it pushing her along quicker.

    ¡°So, by my reckoning¡­,¡±

    ¡°You and your two-dollar words, Book.¡±

    ¡°By my reckoning,¡± I stressed it. ¡°We should [Level] up once all the [Skill]s and [Spell]s are maxed out. It¡¯s only reasonable there is someplace to go up from there.¡±

    ¡°Only reasonable.¡± She liked to parrot.

    ¡°The only thing we have to do now is¡­just do it.¡±

    She grinned. ¡°Nike is going to get you.¡±

    I grinned back. ¡°Common turn of phrase, free domain.¡± I stuck my tongue out at her.

    Tess and I were on par with each other. Two [Skill]s, one spell. Also, [Spell] was now in brackets instead of Spell-slots. Damned first-generation implants. I would hope Tusk Industries fixed things before the initial release¡­

    What the hell was I thinking?! T.I. was the enemy, for acorn¡¯s sake (the swear comes more naturally every time). When the orcs invaded EH-103¡ªnot if, when¡ªI wanted them with the least advantage over the elves as possible. I hoped it was a looong time away. I didn¡¯t know how to prepare for the eventuality. Neither running and hiding, nor trying to fight back ourselves, struck me as viable options.

    Tess would want to fight. If I wanted to stand by her¡ªnot protect (other way around, buddy)¡ªwhen the time came, then [Level]s were the game.

    </li></ul>

 Chapter 17: Cobbles, Gadgets, and â€˜Seeâ€™sâ€™

    Chapter 17: Cobbles, Gadgets, and ¡®See¡¯s¡¯

    A funny thing happened when I used my [ink; good] on a new batch of [torchlight] scrolls. It was only an order for half a dozen this time, placed by Mr. Wordsworth across the street, not a huge Guild contract. It will certainly be easier to deliver them. A nice surprise greeted me when I finished the last one, too.

    *[Skill]s->¡­

    ¡­3. [Torchlight; common]*

    Another step on the way to the next [Level]. As another bonus, it should streamline the stock for my side business. I still needed an initial layout of coins for the supplies. I would need to dig deeper into the tradition behind the apprentice side hustle. Perhaps, I could get an advance on my stipend? Or take the materials on the prospectus (sure you used that right, English Major?). It''s not a conversation to look forward to. On the other hand, if I could convince the customer to cough up a down payment ahead of delivery I¡¯d be sitting golden.

    Two problems. First, I needed actual customers before I could look for payment. Second, the plan was to post-up at the adventure bulletin boards and sell to last-minute buyers. And last minute did not equate to, ¡®Please, kind adventurer, may I have a few coins today and I¡¯ll get you a scroll next Tuesday?¡¯ Yeah, that would not fly. Not with my ugly mug, anyway. And I¡¯m not the street husker type, considering my lack of conversational prowess. No, that would not be viable, even with a more personable front person. However, a pretty face might not be a bad idea, if I could find a partner.

    I didn¡¯t bother with a satchel this time, instead bundling the scroll into the crook of my elbow. The bell over the door to ¡°Papers & Papers¡± jingled behind me as I stepped out into the street. The evenly placed, multi-colored cobbles were smooth and level, free of debris. The shopkeepers along Parchment Lane all chipped a few coins into a pooled fund that went towards maintenance and upkeep. Or in Master Alric¡¯s case, he provided the [torchlight] scrolls placed in clear globes in front of each shop. Guess who made those scrolls, now? That¡¯s riiiight.

    I looked both ways before crossing, an unnecessary habit I couldn¡¯t shake. Even if a carriage happened to be trundling along, there was plenty of time to move out of the way. The narrow streets and sharp corners prevented anything from moving faster than a quick walking pace. The rumbling crunch echoing from where wagon wheels met cobbles gave more than plenty of warning. Besides, deliveries were made in the alleyways paralleling behind most of the buildings in Oakland Fields, our little suburb on the outskirts of the city. Oakheart was the capital and seat of the Elven Matriarchy. I did the same double-take on hearing ¡®Oakland¡¯. My first thought on the similarity was more bleed-through between galaxies. I tossed that aside after a few thoughts, however. Elves were associated with nature, nature with trees, and oaks were trees. It was a small leap for any isekai¡¯d individual (wink-wink).

    Was I, really? Isekai¡¯d, that is. I had not died¡ªI don¡¯t think¡ªand I was not in someone else''s body. Portal, maybe? I could make that stretch work. Alien abduction and a matter-transmitter were close enough for my mind. Looking back, I think that I might have died a couple of times, at least, and been resuscitated. Resurrected? Either way, genetic jiggering, and Orc-tech integration were danger-fraught. It hurt.

    ¡°Hello? Mr. Wordsworth?¡± I called out as the door over his shop jangled. Not jingled, there was a difference. ¡°I have your order of [torchlight] scrolls ready for you.¡±

    No answer.

    ¡°Hello? Anybody here?¡±

    I heard shuffling come from the back, where the scribe apprentices were kept. Familiar, yep. Some would think we were being sequestered out of the light.

    ¡°Hey, Book,¡± came a disembodied voice. ¡°Come on to the back.¡±

    I recognized the voice. It belonged to Magali Wordsworth, youngest son, and apprentice. I made my way around the front counter, carefully maneuvering so I didn¡¯t lose any of the scrolls I balanced.

    ¡°Magali, how¡¯re they hanging?¡± The back room was about the same size as the one in Alric¡¯s place. I would think most of the stores lining Parchment Lane were roughly similar in size and layout. Instead of the impressive, motley assortment of materials, ingredients, and¡­things, I was used to, this back room was tidily efficient. Square cubbies were affixed to the walls, holding papers, parchments, and other bits needed for scribing. Five immaculate, varnished, wooden workstations occupied it. They were set in a staggered, left alignment. One desk, then two, and then three set in precise rows. None of them had mannequin legs.

    ¡°How¡¯s what hangin¡¯, Book?¡± Magali looked up at the ceiling, not seeing any hooks or dangles.

    This time, I¡¯d ¡®slipped¡¯ deliberately on using slang. I wanted to see his face, scrunched up and confused.

    Priceless.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, buddy,¡± I said, letting him off the ¡®hook¡¯ (groan). ¡°Just a figure of speech from where I come.¡±

    ¡°That small town on the edge of the Matriarchy? Boulder, was it? Strange name.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s it.¡± At least it wasn''t named after a species of tree. Not many would consider Boulder a small place, especially anyone from around here. Oakheart was not much bigger, and it was the capital city.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    I¡®d forgotten that I¡¯d told that little nugget to Magali. We always chatted for a moment when our paths crossed. Same age, same apprenticeship woes, same¡ªclose, anyway¡ªproximity. He was the closest thing I had to a friend, outside of Tess. She had to be my friend, given the circumstances.

    ¡°Those th¡¯scrolls?¡± Magali was a fast talker, his words tending to clip and run together. Before I could nod, he gestured for me to deposit the said items in a box sitting on a table near the loading door. It was ingeniously marked, ¡®Delivery¡¯.

    I placed them in a neat stack, then turned to rest my back against the wall. ¡°Master Alric told me to...,¡± I paused to put on a formal expression. ¡°¡¯Thank You for the business,¡¯ so, there you go.¡± The two Masters were in an ongoing war of politeness. There is a back story there, for sure. Just not one I was in a hurry to find out.

    Magali matched my expression, adding in a short bow to one-up me. ¡°We graciously accept your thanks.¡± He made an effort to slow-talk. My grin held out a fraction longer than his own, and then we both let the smirks fly.

    Magali was the smartest person I¡¯d ever met. I¡¯m talking genius level. His mind worked so fast, that his mouth could not keep pace. I thought it was a shame to waste his intelligence on scribing, making copies, and penning agreements. It was the family business, after all, and he had confided a reluctance to say no to his father. That, and it let him read all kinds of things. Manuals from the Artificers Guild, treatises on magical theory from the collegiatetry (Now you''re just making up words, English Major!), it didn''t matter the contents, he took it all in.

    ¡°Is that your new toy?¡± I asked of Magali, walking over to where he sat. Taking pride of place on his desk was an intricate clockwork of tiny gears and miniature pistons. A set of little mirrors rotated on the top, and a small cistern filled with fluid connected to the back. I poked it a few times with my index finger, prompting the apprentice scribe into a panicked reach and grab. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a wate¡¯ timer. See,¡± Magali loved to explain his gadgets. ¡°The water droplets dripfromtheback at a steady rate, one I¡¯ve calculat¡¯d o¡¯er the past weeks, see I have this journal where I mark it¡­,¡± He saw he was losing me, so he stepped on the tangent. ¡°¡­anyhow I figure if I timed it right and matched it righ¡¯ these mirrors¡­¡± he pointed to the slowly spinning reflectors, ¡°will put the right amoun¡¯ light on the pages when I work.¡±

    ¡°Breathe, Magali. Breathe.¡± I told him before he passed out from the lack of.

    ¡°Whoo,¡± he took a deep inhale. ¡°Thanks, Book. You know how I get sometimes.¡±

    ¡°I know, man. Exciting stuff you¡¯ve got going on.¡±

    ¡°Yes, it sure is, Book. It sure is.¡± For some reason, all elves seemed to place importance on including a person¡¯s name in any conversation. I¡¯ve tried, too, so I could fit in better. It just felt unnatural, forced, when I did it.

    Once he saw it was safe from my poking finger, Magali set his treasure back in its exacting place. There were faint marks on the desk surface, measured with care and precision if I knew Magali. I resisted the urge to slowly reach out with the offending finger.

    ¡°You know, Book,¡± he struggled to keep a more measured pace. ¡°I have the worst placed desk.¡± It was in the bottom row and squished next to the wall.

    ¡°You are the youngest, Magali.¡± I did it, name-dropped.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to remind me. I have three older brothers for that, mostly done with their own apprenticeships. And Chet.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t forget Chet,¡± I smirked and rolled my eyes. Chet was probably the oldest apprentice to still hold the title. He was some sort of a family friend that went back decades, Chet kept his position through pure altruism. Mr. W was the best, and if his four sons were not already learning under his tutelage, I bet he would have given me a shot back when I had asked him. Thank the randy goat, he hadn¡¯t. Magic! With a capital M!

    ¡°I need the best light I can get, you see, so I can, well, see. You know?¡±

    I smiled as his words started to pick up pace, again.

    ¡°Where was I? Oh, yes. See, the mirrors, they spin a fraction with ever¡¯ drop of water, timed out with the angle of the sun, reflecting the light and making it easier for me¡­¡±

    ¡°To see,¡± I interjected good-naturedly. I kept the smile going throughout all this before I realized he had a problem. The reflected glare from the mirrors Magali was so proud of, struck him square in the eyes. I didn¡¯t have the heart to say anything. He squinted back at me, happy with his gadgetry.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to change the subject,¡± I really did, ¡°but I wanted to ask you about something.¡± Magali sat up straighter, always eager to pass on some knowledge. ¡°You told me before, right after we met, that apprentices usually eked out some extra coin, plying their trade on the side.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I pick up some proofreading for a few students.¡±

    Shoot, he didn''t need any supplies for that. Eyes only.

    ¡°Why?¡± He must have seen the disappointment in my stance.

    ¡°Well, see (C is for Contagious), I need to make some extra coppers (C is for Copp¡­go for silvers, you dolt!), and I already owe my roommate, Tess, for an advance on rent.¡± He started to make that look, the one saying he¡¯d loan me some, so I rushed on before he could offer. I didn¡¯t need to owe money to both my friends. And, yes, I decided he was my friend. Hopefully, he felt the same about me. ¡°Do you know what the proper etiquette is? Can I pay my Master after I use his supplies? Or is that frowned upon?¡±

    ¡°Each Master is different,¡± he said.

    ¡°Sure, sure.¡± I made the ¡®move-on¡¯ motion, circling my hand.

    ¡°But the tradition is unofficially named the ¡®Blind Eye¡¯. I expect Master Alric would expect it of you.¡±

    There is a great saying about ''assume'' and ''ass'', but how about expect? Dare I say, I expect there was? Score another one for dad jokes! My own would be proud.

    ¡°So, don¡¯t ask. Just reimburse. Wait, the supplies or the coin?¡±

    Yeah, I deserved that look. What apprentice did not know this stuff already, huh? Why do I ask myself questions, anyway? Why¡­oh, look! Shiny!

    ¡°The supplies. Coin would be too obvious, Book.¡±

    ¡°Of course it would, right.¡±

    ¡°Do you have a project you want to work on?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Yeah, I thought about trying to sell [torchlight] and [heat] to adventures by the boards. Last minute, impulse buys and such.¡±

    ¡°A good thought, but only a few at a time, Book. Too many, and if you get caught without a vendor license to prove you have a right to sell there, they will levy you a big fine. Fair warning.¡±

    I nodded, having had the thought myself. It takes money to make money, no matter how cliche. And the Crown would need their cut if I was too obvious about it.

    ¡°Alright, thanks. I¡¯d better get back across the street, or Master Alric will have my ears. Later, Magali.¡±

    ¡°See¡¯ya.¡±

    We both tossed off a male, half-wave¡ªcan¡¯t show we cared¡ªand he went back to fiddling with his gadget while I made my way out of the shop. I rubbed my hands in gleeful thought, copper (Silver!) coins spinning in my eyes.

 Chapter 18: A Cat, A Couple, and Kabobs

    Chapter 18: A Cat, A Couple, and Kabobs

    Today, I was adopted by a cat. There was this stray I occasionally tossed scraps to, on the rare occasion we had any leftovers. Other than porridge, that is. The cat wouldn¡¯t touch the stuff. I don¡¯t blame him. I could barely tolerate it myself. It was bearable if I put enough milk and sugar¡ªmostly sugar¡ªin it.

    I walked home from the shop, my robes surreptitiously laden with scroll-making supplies, and I noticed a shadow join me as I reached the downstairs door to our apartment. I glimpsed and dismissed it as the little patch of darkness followed me up the steps. I passed a handful of interior doors, entrances for the other apartments in our building. The structure used to be a warehouse for some defunct company. Faint traces of some lettering could be seen on the outside where some of the bricks were less weathered than the others. I could make out ¡®M-smudge-smudge-smudge-smudge-smudge-T-I-L-E. Mercantile? Whatever.

    I unlocked the door to our humble abode, and something weaved between my legs just in front of me. ¡°Mother fuggit,¡± I cursed, almost falling on my face. I danced a hop and a small jump, keeping my balance by a hair. ¡°What¡­?¡±

    A quick scan spotted the culprit. A black cat sat imperiously on the couch, cleaning behind one leg. It had sleek, sable fur of pure midnight. Cats here on Elf Home¡ªI was going with that until a better name cropped up¡ªwere mostly the same as I knew. The big difference was in their paws, they were huge! Eight toes, with corresponding claws. Thinking of the damage a rake of those things could do made my skin itch.

    ¡°Well, make yourself at home, Stormy.¡± That was what Tess had called the stray, the first time they crossed paths. It fitted, so the name had stuck. Stormy paused in his obsessive act of cleaning and met my eyes. His were a golden green. A handful of heartbeats passed, and then he was back at it. Not a care in the world.

    ¡°OK, then.¡± I shrugged and walked to our small kitchen table. I pulled a dozen rolled parchments from my left sleeve. I¡¯d hated the voluminous sleeves at first, but they sure came in handy at times like this. Next came two vials of [ink; common] out of an inner pocket, then a quill I had tucked behind my belt. I had only absconded with low-quality supplies, thinking Master Alric would miss them the least. But with his mind for details, he had to know anyway. The long-standing tradition of the ¡®Blind Eye¡¯ was afoot.

    I checked the time on my HUD. It was roughly two hours until sunset when Tess would be home. Plenty of time to get started on a few scrolls. I arranged everything on the table to my liking. Blank parchments of a low grade went in a stack to my left and ink pots were next to the quill on the right. Deep breath and center. I pulled a single piece of parchment off the stack and set it in front of me. I interlocked my hands, left over right, and placed them in the center of the sheet. I delved into my inner self, connecting with my [mana] reservoir. The [mana] bar along the top of my vision had been a little less than half full when I had left the shop. The ten-minute walk home had ticked it up a bit, but nothing significant. Still, only using up half of my reserves in a full day¡¯s work was a testament to my larger-than-normal pool. I let the release of energy flow along metaphorical pathways and pour out through my hands. The unprimed parchment greedily drank it up. I felt the pores swell to their breaking point, then cut the flow. The low-quality parchment had thin cell linings, easily bursting. I lost too many individual cells, and a cascade of micro explosions tore the sheet into shreds.

    Fwwooomp! The smell of burning hair permeated my nostrils. I was becoming way too familiar with the scent. This time it was the fine hairs festooning the back of my hands curling up and smoked off. My eyebrows were safe.

    ¡°Well, damn. That cuts into my profit margin." Crap.

    I had eleven sheets of parchment left, eleven more attempts to prime them with [mana]. Master Alric said that this part could be trickier than the actual inking. That was why he had primed and I inked for that Guild contract.

    ¡°Better get to it,¡± I told myself. Storm gave me an inquisitive yowl. ¡°Thanks for the pep talk, buddy.¡± We were becoming thick as thieves. That black cat, magic, and I, bound for the peak of excellence.

    I pulled the next sheet in front of me and placed my interlocked hands in the center.

    My [mana] bar had run down to about an eighth of it left, and I counted my success in single digits. Almost two full hours passed in a flash, ha! Five potential scrolls had gone up in my face, each tearing apart in a burst of heat and smoke. Seven parchments were good to go, ready for the next stage. I was better at this part, especially with the [torchlight] ones. I had a [Skill]. I planned to do five of those, leaving a pair of [heat] scrolls to try my hand at. I didn¡¯t have a shortcut for [heat] yet, but here¡¯s crossing my fingers.

    I did so and glanced at my new cat. Stormy yawned. I picked up the quill I had ¡®liberated¡¯, and went to dip it in the [ink; common]. I should have tried for some of the ¡®good¡¯ stuff (Brawk-bawk). Next time. Then I had a thought; Could ink be refined a second time? Something to chew on later.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    Before the broad-tipped quill touched down, a familiar hurricane blew in through the door. Right on time. [Courier]s did pride themselves on punctuality.

    ¡°Tess!¡± I cried out. My hand spasmed, a drop of silvery ink streaking across the page. Another one bites the dust. Sigh. I almost tore it up, but then hesitated. With a shrug, I set it to the side. It would be a shame to waste its potential. I could experiment with it.

    ¡°Book!¡± she echoed my distress with enthusiasm. Where did she get the energy?! Running from dusk til dawn, then charging in as fresh as she began. Disgusting.

    ¡°Whatcha doing?¡± Tess trotted up and peered over my shoulder.

    ¡°Working my side hustle, hoping to earn a few coins. I owe somebody some gold.¡±

    ¡®Now, you know I don¡¯t care about that. We¡¯re all good.¡±

    I hated it, but I knew I¡¯d take it. I always did, another habit across the galaxy. But only for a while as I intended to make a better person of myself. ¡°Fine, but I¡¯ll try to pick up a few more dinners, whittle it down a bit.¡±

    ¡°Sure thing,¡± she said, then spun back to answer the door at a double knock. ¡°Speaking of, tonight we have kabobs!¡± She pulled open the door, showing Kolin balancing a stack of takeout cartoons. The smell was enticing, the sight not so much.

    ¡°Hi, Book. I come bearing food,¡± the new adventurer declared with vigor and stepped into the apartment. He was getting a little more comfortable here than I liked.

    Kolin brought the food to the table, careless of my work spread out on it.

    ¡°Wait! Wait,¡± I admonished him.

    He stopped cold, the top container threatening to topple. A quick snatch by Tess saved the dinner. Before the next domino could tumble, I quickly capped the ink pot and gathered it all close. The couple pulled out the other two chairs¡ªwe¡¯d had to buy a third one¡ªand I managed to place my work on the kitchen counter without fully leaving my own chair.

    Kolin dealt out the cardboard boxes, one to each of us. I opened mine, letting the enticing vapors envelop me. Cubes of alternating meat and vegetables, heavy on the mushrooms (Yay!), were skewered on a wooden stick and rested on a bed of seasoned rice. A couple of triangles of flatbread accompanied it. We dug in, the only sounds those of chewing and swallowing. Food was serious business for [mana] users.

    I wiped up the last traces of juicy drippings and the remaining grains of rice with a hoarded corner of flatbread.

    ¡°Mmmm¡­hmmm, that was good.¡±

    ¡°Should¡¯a grabbed a couple of extras,¡± Tess said. ¡°Next time.¡±

    ¡°Next time,¡± Kolin repeated, and I followed with my own ¡°Next time.¡± Wonderful dinner conversationalists, weren''t we? The three of us shared a grin. I guess I could tolerate this guy.

    ¡°I worked on my [sprint]ing today, Book. I¡¯m finally ¡®good¡¯ at it.¡±

    ¡°You have always been good, babe.¡±

    Yeah, Kolin, that ¡®good¡¯ was for me. It was code for upgrading her [Skill]. Did we need to speak in code? We had no idea. Elves spoke of[Skill]s, and attached a quality qualifier to them. We did not think they could see them, at least not in the manner we did. That would take a [Mark .07]. And we could not just come out and ask about something we should have known basically from birth. So, we¡¯d come up with a way to let each other know in front of others (the CIA would be¡­what¡¯s the opposite of proud?).

    ¡°Nice, Tess,¡± I told her. ¡°I have been practicing, too.¡±

    ¡°Why are you two being so weird?¡± The confused look on Kolin¡¯s face told me that our subtlety is what needed more practice. ¡°We are all practicing [Skill]s, pretty much all the time, aren''t we? That¡¯s how we advance, so no big deal. No need to be odd about it.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, dude, just Ignore us. Our little hometown is something of a backwater, and we picked up some strange habits.¡±

    Smooth covering, Tess. That was how we played off any inconsistencies. Kolin shrugged it off as little matter.

    ¡°So, Kolin,¡± I said, trying to turn the conversation. ¡°Does your team need any basic scrolls? I don¡¯t have much yet, but I¡¯m working on it.¡±

    ¡°Depends,¡± the adventurer said. He leaned forward, sensing a deal in the making. ¡°What do you have?¡±

    ¡°Right now, I could do six of either [torchlight] or [heat]. Mix and match.¡± As I hadn¡¯t actually finished any of them yet, it would not hurt to get a potential customer¡¯s wants. Not that I had a long list to choose from.

    ¡°I mean, torches are always needed,¡± Kolin said, echoing my thinking. ¡°But they are pretty basic and easy to find.¡±

    I interpreted that as ¡®cheap¡¯. And he was right. They normally went for around ten coppers apiece for ¡®common¡¯ ones. Master Alric charged twelve coppers each, but his ¡®common¡¯ was closer to everyone else''s ¡®good¡¯. I hoped mine would rate ¡®common¡¯ since I was imbuing the parchments myself. The sheets were low-grade to begin with, though not officially rated. Only items with [mana] invested in them gave off a qualifier. The materials were still graded, of course. Not everything was created equal. In fact, it was suspicious for Master Alric to even have such low quality material in his shop. More credence to the ¡®Blind Eye.¡¯

    ¡°I could do the [torchlight]s for seven coppers (lucky 7!), and the [heat] for ten. That¡¯s a savings of three coppers each on both the types.¡± A deeep discount for a start-up.

    ¡°Hmm, don¡¯t need the [heat],¡± Damn, I wanted to practice on those. ¡°But I could probably convince my team leader, Rolf, on¡­¡± he paused, and made a show of leaning back in thought. ¡°¡­forty coppers for six scrolls.¡±

    That robbed me of two coppers. I could accept that, I figured. I had to start somewhere, and I¡¯m sure financial empires had been built on less.

    A hundred coppers made one silver, and a hundred silvers made one gold. This would put me on the road to paying Tess those two gold I owed her. I leaned forward to close the distance, and said ¡°Deal.¡±

    ¡°¡¯Common¡¯ quality, of course,¡± he said before accepting.

    ¡°Naturally, Kolin. I wouldn¡¯t sell anything less.¡± I sure hoped so.

    Tess watched the two of us, happy her ¡®guys¡¯ were getting along.

    ¡°Meow?¡±

    Tess noticed Stormy for the first time. He had been curled up, asleep, another shadow on the couch.

    ¡°Book? When did we get a cat?¡±

 Chapter 19: Hunh, OK, and Alright

    Chapter 19:  Hunh, OK, and Alright

    ¡°Six scrolls of [torchlight; common], as ordered.¡±  I handed them over to a smiling Kolin.

    ¡°Thanks, Book,¡± the newly minted adventurer told me.

    We were standing outside team Brawn¡¯s guild house, a small bungalow in great need of repairs. Shingles were missing from the roof, like gaping holes in a mouth full of busted teeth. I don¡¯t think there was a single window without a crack or chip marring it, and the three wooden steps up to the front door were splintered and sagging. A really nice place to rest your head.

    The city of Oakheart set aside a dozen blocks of real estate to house adventuring teams, as part of the Matriarchy¡¯s civic duty. In return, the teams had the required responsibility to act as militia if called upon. It had been a couple of centuries since a foreign enemy had threatened the capital city, but the law still lived in the minutia of the founding charter the Matriarchy had sprung from. In current times, the teams were used to clear dungeon breaks and the odd quest.

    ¡°Come on in, Book.¡± Kolin¡¯s face fought with competing emotions. The embarrassment of the run-down quarters warred with his pride in his place on a Guild-recognized team. ¡°Rolf wants to talk to you.¡±

    ¡°What about?¡± I could guess, but didn¡¯t see the harm in letting Kolin feel his importance. OK, the guy was growing on me (like a wart). He had an earnest quality that invited others to like him. I was starting to understand what Tess saw in him. Besides the square jaw and abundant muscles.

    ¡°Business, what else, huh?¡± his smile grew, and he waved me to follow him inside.

    I obliged, rubbing my thumb and forefinger together on some imaginary coins. Nothing makes a person greedier than humble times. Also, I imagined my payment was inside.

    The inside was, in a word, small. And another word, dirty. Five people lived here? I¡¯m not sure it was any bigger than Tess¡¯s and my apartment. I couldn¡¯t live in such a tight place with others. The two of us¡ªand don¡¯t forget the cat¡ªwere enough. It could be a cultural thing or a claustrophobic thing. Kolin lead me over to a big elf holding court from a sagging armchair with stuffing poking out of it. And by big, I don¡¯t mean overly muscled. I could guess where the team¡¯s loot winded up, and it wasn¡¯t a gym.

    ¡°Rolf, this is Book. He is the [Scrivener] I told you about. Book, Rolf is team Brawn¡¯s leader."

    ¡°[Scrivener; apprentice], actually.¡± I held my hand out to the large man. Rolf reached forward with a grunt, enveloping my hand in his meaty paw. He squeezed; I winced. There was strength, there.

    ¡°Hunh. Those are common quality, right?¡± He gestured to the bundle Kolin now held. ¡°I won¡¯t accept anything else.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely, I understand. If they don¡¯t work like advertised there is a money-back guarantee.¡± What was I saying? I had just left myself wide open, and the gleam in his eye agreed with me.

    ¡°Hunh. Here,¡± Rolf dug a small bag from between his bulk and the ripped fabric of the chair¡¯s arm. He tossed it, and I caught it out of the air one-handed. I gave the bag a gentle jingle, feeling the coins rattle inside. I wanted to, but there was no way that I was going to count them in front of this guy. He didn¡¯t seem the type to appreciate it, so I took it on faith

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I gave a slight nod of my head, enough to appear appreciative but not enough to appear obsequious. If I wanted his future business, and I did, then I couldn¡¯t start on the back foot. It was hard to bargain from a position of inferiority. I wasn''t a total noob.

    ¡°Un-hunh. What else can you do?¡± Rolf was all business. There was nothing small about the man, not even his ''talk''.

    Kolin relaxed his shoulders a bit, seeing the exchange going well. Not only had he put himself out there, vouching for me, but was still the new guy.

    ¡°For now, I can do [torchlight] and [heat] scrolls,¡± I told him. ¡°I¡¯ll have more options, soon.¡± Then I took a chance that might bite me on the ass. ¡°Do you have anything specific in mind? I can shoot for that, next.¡±

    Wait for it¡­¡±Hunh. Something for combat. Warming a kobold¡¯s tootsies with a little [heat] won''t help much.¡±

    There was something about hearing the word ¡®tootsies¡¯ coming out of such a large specimen that made my brain hiccup. I tried to keep it off my face, but it was established I needed to work on that.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°What?¡± Rolf squinted at me. ¡°I say something funny?¡±

    ¡°Not at all,¡± I smoothed my features, not wanting to offend my first customer.

    ¡°[Heat] is good when we don¡¯t want the light from a fire to give us away.¡± Kolin inserted himself, eager to please both sides.

    Rolf looked to his greenest member, then back to me. He tried to raise one eyebrow, but instead, his unibrow reached for his hairline.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do,¡± I told the team leader. I did have a few ideas rattling around in my head.

    ¡°Hunh.¡± I took that as a dismissal.

    ¡°I¡¯ll walk you out.¡± Kolin must have heard it too. He gestured for me to follow.

    It was a good thing he showed me the way, too. Otherwise, I might have gotten lost along the twenty paces to the door ([mini-map] to the rescue!).

    ¡°Thanks, Book. You OK if I stop by your place for dinner?¡±

    ¡°Not as long as you bring those kabobs, Kolin.¡± It was nice of him to ask, instead of just showing up like usual.

    ¡°Will do,¡± Tess¡¯s boyfriend gave me a short laugh, waving as he turned to head back into the bungalow.

    I set out along the dirt road, heading towards the Guild square. As I walked, the street began to change as I trudged along the blocks. First came gravel, then uneven cobbles, and finally meticulously laid paving stones. The quality of the city-provided guild houses rose with the street quality. Bungalows became small houses, which evolved into two-storied homes, culminating in multi-level McMansions. The guild teams¡¯ hierarchy was obvious to anyone with eyes. Team Brawn had a long climb ahead if they managed to last long enough.

    As I crossed the main courtyard, I made a slight detour to pass by the notice boards. Looking for more teams to sell to, obviously, not a certain redhead with ivory skin.

    I still didn¡¯t know her name!

    <hr>

    ¡°Book, I need you to make ten scrolls of [heat].¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master Alric. For one order?¡± Not that it mattered. The work was the same.

    ¡°Eight to go into the street maintenance supplies, two for back-stock.¡±

    Another part of my Master¡¯s contribution, the scrolls helped to keep the cobbles from icing over in the winter. Happy customers, happy ¡®keepers (worked hard on that, didya?). Shut up, brain. Winter was about two months ahead, and it would be Tess¡¯s and my first one here. I loved winter, the cold and the snow invigorating me. We¡¯d soon find out how intense the season became on Elf Home, compared to Colorado.

    ¡°I got it, Master,¡± I gave him a quick bow of the head and headed to my ¡®office¡¯. Master Alric didn¡¯t appreciate how casual I could be, so I subtly lengthened my strides to make a clean getaway.

    ¡°OK, Book, think.¡± Yes, I talk to myself. Sometimes, I even answer (wanh-waw). I tell myself jokes, too. Did you hear the one about¡­? Sorry.

    Master Alric wasn¡¯t going to trust me with anything related to combat, not yet. So, what could I do for Rolf? Could I twist something I already knew? I left my mind to work the problem, while my hands got to work on the scrolls.

    On scroll number nine, I heard the most wonderful of sounds. *Ding!*

    *[Skill]s->¡­

    ¡­4. [Heat; common]*

    Woohoo! One more [Skill] to achieve, and two spells to discover. I had the feeling the [Spell]s would be much harder. I finished the ten scrolls, using my [Skill] for the last one to get a feel for the cost. Checking my [mana] bar told me that the shortcut cost something like half again as much as doing it manually. It was a smidge better than my [torchlight] quickie had been the initial time. Practice makes efficient.

    Shocker.

    (Wait, did you actually use ¡®quickie¡¯? Dude.)

    I think my mind had a good thought. Work that one out. [Heat] was a function of combustion. Overcharging the cells in a parchment created micro explosions. If I combined the two, charging to the brink and adding an exothermic reaction as the cherry (bomb!) as the topper, then¡­he-he. But not here, in the workshop. Master Alric had too many volatile ingredients in storage, and the chain reaction could take down the whole building. That was probably why most [mana] users did not experiment a whole lot.

    I bundled up the eight scrolls, setting aside the two to put on the shelves. I was eyeballing materials to ¡®borrow¡¯ when I heard a call from the front room.

    ¡°Book, you have a visitor.¡±

    I did? Tess would be at work, and besides, she had never been to Alric¡¯s place before. Magali would just be waved to the back. I did not know anybody else. Kolin was a definite no. There was no reason to wonder, so I followed my feet to the front of the store. I quickly placed the two [heat] scrolls in their place under the glass top of the display case built into the sales counter. As I popped back up to my feet, I saw who my visitor was.

    ¡°Book, right?¡± a young elf maiden stood in front of me. She had glowing skin and a fiery mane.

    I nodded, trying not to look like a fish out of water. ¡®O¡¯. Master Alric made a point of going back to his desk under the window.

    ¡°I heard that you were selling some scrolls to teams for a discount.¡±

    I shot Alric a look, worried he¡¯d take note. ¡°Un-huh.¡± Brilliant repartee. ¡°Did you find a team to join?¡± Excellent recovery.

    ¡°No,¡± this time she was the one to cast a glance at my Master. What worried her?

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said.

    She bobbed her head in a quick nod. ¡°Do you think that you will have any more scrolls soon? Discounted?¡±

    ¡°I might. What are you looking for?¡±

    ¡°The basics, for now. I want to be prepared if¡­something¡­comes up.¡±

    I took the hint. ¡°It might be a couple of days, is that OK?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, OK.¡±

    ¡°Do you want to meet me here?¡± I gave her a minuscule shake of the head as I said it. This was the last place I wanted to do business. ¡°Or your shop?¡± She returned the head shake. We were on the same page, so it seemed.

    ¡°The boards.¡±

    ¡°Alright. Two days?¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡±

    That was a lot of nothing talk. It was becoming a staple of mine. ''Is there anybody out there that could help me with conversations?'', I asked the universe. She turned and strode out of the store. I started to raise a hand in farewell, but she was already gone.

    For acorn¡¯s sake, I forgot to ask, again! What was her¡­

    ¡°I see you know Tak, eh Book?¡±

 Chapter 20: Lunch, Wagons, and Circling

    Chapter 20:  Lunch, Wagons, and Circling

    Tak, of ¡°Harmsson & Tak; *enchanted tailor*¡±. That was my (excuse me?! Your?)¡­umm, the redheaded elf¡¯s name. Finally. ¡®A name! My kingdom for a name!¡¯ Isn¡¯t that a quote of some sort? Bastardized, of course. ¡®Tak¡¯ had to be short for something, right? Elven names tended to have an appropriate fantasy sensibility, with the odd spelling here and there. This one was a little more, let¡¯s say, abrupt. Hopefully, I might learn more on the subject, later.

    But, in order to meet up with Tak again, I needed some product to sell. Wow, I did not mean to sound so much like a drug lord, there. The drum solo from ¡®In the Air Tonight¡¯ echoed in my head, a little Phil Collins. The re-makes were good, but nothing can touch the original. But, I digress. The first thing I need is materials. I had replaced Master Alric¡¯s supplies but forgot to take one significant consideration. I had no wholesaler connections. That meant paying the full cost, damn. After expenses, my forty coppers lost some considerable weight. Twenty-five coppers worth, to be exact. The fifteen left went into a rusted tin can marked, ¡®Tess¡¯s Fund¡¯. Only one silver, and eighty-five coppers to go. I guess I should have taken a few business classes at university.

    Six scrolls for forty coppers boiled down to about 6.7 coppers apiece. Paying retail for materials ended up costing me around 4.2 coppers per scroll, netting a profit of only two and a half coppers each. Ouch. It was time to make my own connections. With the ¡®Blind Eye¡¯ a universal,  there had to be other apprentices out there in the same position, so I just needed to tap into that network. And I knew exactly where to start. It was time to brace the cross traffic on Parchment Lane.

    Today, Mr. Wordsworth was in when I took my lunch break. ¡°Hello, sir.¡±

    ¡°Good day, book,¡± the elderly gentleman responded. ¡°I¡¯m not expecting any deliveries from Alric any time soon, so I guess you¡¯re here for Magali.¡±

    ¡°If he has time for lunch, yes sir.¡±

    ¡°Magali!¡± he called back over his shoulder. ¡°Lunchtime, my boy.¡±

    The apprentice scribe poked his head out of the back and saw me standing there. ¡°Hi, Book, how are¡¯ya?¡±

    ¡°Wanna grab some lunch?¡± I gave him a casual, two-fingered wave. He looked surprised for just a second, then smiled. This was the first time I¡¯d invited him to lunch. It felt a little bad, with it taking an ulterior motive for me to initiate the invite. I resolved to do more to try and be a true friend. I needed more of those.

    ¡°Food court?¡± I asked. There was a park a short walk from here, where vendors gathered to sell hot food out of wagons (can we say, food trucks!). It was one thing I didn¡¯t need to add to my list. Too bad, it would have been an easy sell.

    ¡°Is that a new place, ¡®Food Court¡¯? I¡¯ve never heard of it, before.¡±

    Oh, yeah. (Oops!) I did it again. ¡°I mean the park, with the food wagons. You know, the courtyard where they sell food? ¡®Food Court.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Ha, I like it,¡± said Magali.

    ¡°Clever, Book.¡± Mr. Wordsworth nodded his approval. ¡°A nice play on words.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Mr. W.¡± The master scribe was more accepting of my casual behavior than my Master. Maybe because Alric was such a stickler for formality. I''d thought it before, and I''ll think it again. There was some sort of rivalry simmering under the surface. I¡¯d have to ask Magali, someday.

    ¡°Sounds good, Book. Let¡¯s go.¡± Magali hustled around the trademark sales counter in these shops and clapped me on the shoulder as we both turned to leave.

    Before the door could jangle behind us, Mr. W called out, ¡°Bring me back something, boy!¡±

    ¡°Sure, Dad.¡±

    ¡°Your brother¡¯s too, don¡¯t forget.¡±

    "And Chet," I muttered our running joke.

    "Can''t forget Chet," Magali said as he grimaced and rolled his eyes at me, where his father couldn¡¯t see. A non-committal grunt and wave, and then we were off.

    The two of us walked at a quick pace, chatting about nothing in particular. We were getting to know each other a little better. Soon, we were standing amidst a modest crowd of lunch-goers. Eight wagons rested around the packed-earth courtyard, each at a compass point. North, Northeast, East, etc., with a melange of enticing smells trapped under the canopy of trees. We made our selections, a dumpling soup for Magali and another kabob for me. I was getting hooked on the things. All the wagons were offshoots of established restaurants from the area, so when I saw the familiar name painted on an awning, I made a bee-line for it. The independent, rolling mobile food stall wasn¡¯t a thing yet, so I saw some room for improvement there.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Magali and I snagged seats at a rough-hewn plank table and started eating with the vigor of youth. We inhaled it.

    ¡°How¡¯s the selling going?¡±

    ¡°The selling was good, it was the profit that sucked.¡± Did elves use that the same? Never mind, I wasn¡¯t going to give that phrase up. I would just have to make it a thing, here, Earth slang be damned.

    ¡°Let me guess, Book.¡± Magali swallowed a dumpling and grinned at me. ¡°You paid full price for supplies.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, sure did.¡± My returning grin was sheepish (ba-ahh!).

    ¡°Everybody does, at first, before they get the hang of it. And you are coming to me for advice, or¡­?¡±

    ¡°Or?¡± I gave my best hang-dog look. Then I smiled cheekily, ¡°Both.¡±

    ¡°Sure thing, Book. I got you.¡± Magali slurped down the last of the dumpling broth and then pushed the disposable bowl off to the side. I had long since finished my meal. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get my part out of the way. Yes, I can get you the parchments. They won¡¯t be high grade, of course.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t expect otherwise. Or afford it.¡±

    ¡°There would have to be a minimal markup, for my pride¡¯s sake.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t hide the pride.¡± I knew Magali did not get the reference, but I loved inserting quotes from home (¡°Taste the rainbow¡±). Any corruption is all mine.

    ¡°Quills, too. The ink, that you¡¯ll have to source for yourself, though I may have some ideas.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take any leads you have, Magali.¡± I paused, letting the hamster take a few laps on the wheel. ¡°On the markup, Magali. I¡¯m sure you have your own hookup, right? I¡¯m thinking of another apprentice.¡±

    ¡°Correct. Paytin, her mom is the parcheminier on our street.¡±

    ¡°OK. She¡¯s your insider, then you markup on her markup.¡±

    Magali crinkled his brow, a look of hurt crossing his face. ¡°Are you wanting to cut me out of the loop? Look, Book¡­¡±

    ¡°No, no, no. Nothing like that.¡± I assured him, not wanting to lose my new friend. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking.¡± No Master around to make a crack. ¡°And bear with me if this is already a thing, but what if we banded together? A coalition of apprentices, with each of us playing a part of the whole.¡±

    ¡°Working as a team?¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡±

    ¡°Apprentices have tried it, and the Masters are usually good with it, as long as they don''t draw too much notice. What would my part be, then? Providing the quills? That wouldn¡¯t be enough to justify my part. Especially since even those come from someone else.¡± He looked downtrodden at potentially being left out.

    I thought quickly, trying to come up with a good reason. I didn¡¯t want to cut him out, the guy was way too smart not to include. That¡¯s it! I leaned forward on my elbow, ignoring the splinters I¡¯d have to dig out later.

    ¡°Your part is easy, dude. And the hardest, at least in my opinion.¡± (S¡¯truth) I was going to dump some more un-elven slang on him. ¡°Networking, and business acumen. You are a freaking genius, Magali. Certifiable. If there is something you don¡¯t know, you can figure it out. You like research.¡±

    ¡°I like the mechanical stuff, Book. That is what I research, not business. And I don¡¯t even know what ¡®networking¡¯ is.¡± He gave me an inquisitive look, inviting an answer.

    ¡°OK, think of a net.¡± I hastened to explain before I lost him. ¡°Or a web (don¡¯t go into the interweb!). Everything is connected, every knot and line, and it all leads back to the center, the origin. That would be you, the puppet master.¡±

    ¡°Nets, webs, and puppets, Book?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, I get a little loose with the metaphors (English Major!). But you get it, right?¡±

    ¡°I think so.¡± He tapped a couple of fingers along his jaw in thought. ¡°Who would do the sales? I¡¯m certainly not going to.¡±

    Yeah, salesmen were quick talkers, and Magali had that down, but they also need to be understandable at speed. That, Magali was not.

    ¡°Me, neither.¡± I couldn¡¯t even ask Tak for her name, for acorn¡¯s sake. ¡°Paytin?¡±

    ¡°No, that is somewhat beyond her. She has trouble hearing, which makes her hesitant to speak much. I do know this other girl, Tak. She¡¯s the front person for her dad¡¯s tailor shop.¡±

    Tak, seriously? Surely this had to be a sign. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve met here, actually. I bought my new robes from ¡°Harmsson & Tak¡±. I saw her at the adventure boards, too. Seemed like she wanted to go that direction. She heard I was selling scrolls on the side and asked me for some. Would she even have the time, what with her name already on a shop sign? And if she joined an adventure team?¡±

    ¡°Book, when do any of us have the time? Apprentices don¡¯t have much of a surplus of that particular commodity. But we still make do.¡±

    ¡°So, you think she¡¯d be into it?¡±

    ¡°Only one way to find out.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I nodded along. ¡°I am supposed to go and see her when I have something to sell.¡±

    ¡°Which is why you came to see me.¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± I didn¡¯t deny it. ¡°And that started this whole circle.¡±

    Magali glanced at the shadows, judging the time. I have a digital clock in my vision, nyah-nyah. We had been talking awhile.

    ¡°I need to think about getting back to the shop, Book.¡±

    ¡°Me too, Master Alric will have my hide if I¡¯m gone too long.¡± I would bribe him with food, that should help. And there went my profits from my sale to Team Brawn, probably more. He had expensive tastes, so meat on a stick wouldn¡¯t cut it.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get you eight parchments¡ªno cost¡ªas my initial investment.¡±

    ¡°You are in, then? We¡¯re doing this this?¡± I had feared, with his initial reaction, that he wouldn''t be interested in my proposal.

    ¡°Yes, we are.¡± Magali gave me a firm nod. When he made a decision, he was all business. Just the person I needed to make this work. We¡¯d have our own duties as apprentices to attend to first, and not much time, so ¡®efficiency¡¯ was the word. ¡°I will talk to Paytin and see if she is interested, and you will let me know when you go meet Tak. I¡¯ll go with you.¡±

    ¡°Sure, we can do it two days after I get the parchments. Apprentices, unite!¡± I gave my best fist pump, and he tried not to look at me cross-eyed. My grin grew as wide as it could without splitting my face in half.

    He got up to leave, and I joined him. We both really needed to get back to our respective shops.

    ¡°I¡¯ll swing by after I¡¯m done for the night,¡± I told Magali. My friend nodded, then turned to hasten back to Parchment Lane. ¡°Yo, Magali! Don¡¯t forget to feed the fam!¡±

    He stumbled a step, turned around, gave me a nod of thanks, and headed back to the circle of wagons. Now, what could I afford to butter up my Master? The smell of fried dough with cinnamon and sugar called to me.

 Chapter 21: Freaking, Sobbing, and Fraking

    Chapter 21:  Freaking, Sobbing, and Fraking

    When: Some time ago¡­

    Where: ¡­inside the white cube.

    I bolted upright, my heart pounding fit to burst. The first thing I saw was white, just white light bouncing off of my eyes. I blinked fast, waiting for my vision to clear, my eyelids feeling like 40 grit sandpaper. They scraped and scraped, failing to leave any moisture behind.

    Was there anything besides the white? Was I blind? Dead?

    ¡°Book! Wake up man, come on!¡±

    I knew the voice, but I couldn¡¯t place it. It was too loud, echoing in my head. ¡°Shut up,¡± I muttered, my voice hoarse with gravel. ¡°Please, be quiet. Just, quiet, OK? It hurts.¡± I felt completely leached of moisture, a dried-out husk.

    ¡°Get with it, already!¡±

    ¡°OK, OK,¡± I mumbled.  ¡°Give me a second¡­who, who¡¯s there?¡± I couldn¡¯t think, my brain belonged in a desiccated mummy.

    ¡°Would you get it together!¡±

    A meaty hand clapped my shoulder, flesh on flesh. The slap! sound was unmistakable. The touch elicited a rash of chill bumps sprouting over my exposed skin. Which I soon noticed was all of it! What a thing for my vision to return to. The next thing I noticed was the cold, damn! I was freezing! The cold emanated from underneath me, all along my body. I saw that I was laying on a bare steel¡ªmetal, at least¡ªslab. It looked disturbingly like a coroner¡¯s table. It even had a drain at my feet.

    I hurried to get up and put some air between me and the heat-sucking material. My wits worked in slow motion as my eyes tried to make sense of my surroundings. I was in a white box, with three walls, a floor, and a ceiling. The fourth wall was a light haze of green-tinged silver, and I could see a wide hallway beyond it. There were no discernible light sources that I could see, but it was bright enough for the need to squint. Suddenly, I remembered someone had touched me, and I spun in place, looking for threats. The motion was too much for my struggling consciousness, and I almost went down. A pair of hands hooked on to me, one under my armpit and the other grabbing the top of my shoulder. They were the only things keeping me on my feet. My instinctual response was to pull away, but then I recognized the person holding me up.

    ¡°Steve?¡± His face was blurry, the white light creating a halo effect around his head. So, I was dead. I hadn¡¯t exactly expected to see Tess¡¯s boyfriend in the afterlife.

    ¡°Yeah, Book. It¡¯s me. Now wake up, I need your smarts.¡± The big jock gave me a gentle shake, enough to get the neurons firing again.

    ¡°Where are we?¡± I asked, my words a touch slurred. Was I still drunk from trivia night at the bar?

    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡±

    A note of panic flavored his words. That wasn¡¯t good. The big guy wasn¡¯t afraid of anything, even when he should be. The room had stopped spinning, so I tried to pry his fingers from my flesh gently. It felt like my collarbone was grating against the shoulder blade behind it.

    ¡°OK, Steve. You gotta let me go before you break something.¡±

    ¡°Huh¡­oh, sorry. It¡¯s just¡­¡± He released my shoulder and made a sweeping gesture, encompassing everything. I patted his bulging bicep, in total agreement. Glancing at the naked man, I could see every individual muscle stood out in stark relief, his whole body tensed and ready for action. He looked like one of the spartans from the movie ''300.''

    Aside from the two autopsy tables, the room we were in was devoid of anything. This led me in the one direction that gave me hope. I headed for the hazy section of wall, fully intent on dashing through and craning my head in both directions. Preferably at the same time. Electricity gabbed me in its taloned grip, vibrating my bones and locking my joints and muscles. I toppled over backward, landing flat on the floor.

    I lay there, twitching uncontrollably as every cell in my being tried to spasm all at once. I bit my tongue, tasting blood.

    ¡°Whoa, buddy, I already tried that,¡± Steve told me. Too late.

    He reached down to pull me up, and I snagged his wrist as soon as I had mastery over my muscles again. I let him yank me to my feet, and I ran a hand over the wetness covering my chin. I looked at the fluids on my fingers, and, sure enough, they were covered in blood. It was a lot of blood. I felt around in my mouth, feeling a slice going all the way through one side. I was lucky I had not bit completely through the width and severed the tip. Ouch! Dammit, that hurt. I felt like I had dipped my tongue in lava, with the taste of microwaved pennies and salt tainting my mouth. I snatched the expanse of bare metal in front of me, hung my head, and spat a glob of blood down the drain on the table I¡¯d woken up on. It swirled around, clotting the tiny holes perforating the cover.

    ¡°Cou¡¯ba sai¡¯b somb¡¯tha,¡± I couldn¡¯t talk straight, with all of the swelling and bloody saliva. I spat a couple of more times, trying to clear my mouth out. ¡°Aaagh. Fub me, it hurb¡¯s¡­hurts.¡± I had to spit again. And again, before I could speak legibly. My thoughts spun back to the last thing I remembered before waking up here.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    ¡°Stebe, what about the obers? Are they here, too?¡±

    ¡°I think so. I can see¡­ulp¡­bodies on the tables in the room across the hall.¡±

    I walked back to the opening of our cell. What else could the cube be? I was careful not to let any part of my body touch it this time. I knew (now!) that the fourth wall was made of a force screen or similar. I had too much science fiction running through my veins to consider otherwise. Objects were murky, peering across the double energy fields. I could make out a pair of silver tables, like the ones in the cell with Steve and I. Laying on them, were two individual forms, both unmistakably female in their nakedness.

    ¡°That has got to be Tess, and¡­and,¡± Crap I couldn¡¯t remember the other girl¡¯s name, the one Carmen had picked up at the bar. ¡°Carmen¡¯s new friend.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I think so too,¡± Steve agreed.

    I wrenched my neck one way, then the other, and tried to peer down the hallway for other cells. ¡°I don¡¯t see Carmen. Did you?¡±

    ¡°Nah, man, I can¡¯t tell.¡± Steve joined me, and both of us did our best to look around while avoiding getting shocked.

    ¡°I¡¯m over here, guys.¡± The voice came from our left, one we both instantly recognized as Carmen¡¯s.

    ¡°Carmen,¡± I yelled, relieved to hear them. ¡°You OK?¡± What a stupid question. None of us were OK.

    ¡°Freezing, and bare to the world, but yeah. I think so, anyway.¡± The usual, chipper lilt to their words was absent. ¡°You guys think that is the others? Tess and Christi?¡± It was easy enough to imagine a vague hand gesturing across the way and down.

    ¡°Has to be, right?¡± Steve answered.

    ¡°I hope so,¡± this from me. I saw one of the forms stir, and then try to sit up.

    "It''s me," a voice floated across the hall.

    "Thank god," Steve cried, true concern in his words.

    ¡°Take it slow, Tess,¡± I advised. I could tell from the voice and the milk chocolate skin that it was her. ¡°And don¡¯t try to rush over!¡± I cast a baleful glance at Steve, the jock giving me a sheepish shrug in return.

    ¡°Dude, no worries there,¡± she advised me back. ¡°What the fuck happened to us? Where are we?¡±

    ¡°We are asking the same questions, baby girl.¡±

    Tess usually hated it when Steve called her that. Now, she didn¡¯t seem to notice, and who could blame her? I would answer to ¡®sweet petunia¡¯ at the moment. I could tell my thoughts were starting to rally, my natural sarcasm creeping back in.

    ¡°Check on Ricki, would you?¡± Carmen asked from the side.

    Tess hopped off the table with more grace than I had shown, shielding her eyes with one hand. ¡°Would someone turn down the lights,¡± she demanded of the air. They stayed the same, of course.

    Surely, someone is listening, I thought. I glanced around the cube, giving it a better once-over than I had before. I looked for any obvious¡­probes or whatever. Anything that could hint that we were being watched. I could not believe that we weren¡¯t.

    I could see Tess shaking the other girl, and none too gently. Steve had shown me more care, but then he knew me. The girl¡ªNiki?¡ªwas relatively unknown to us.

    ¡°She¡¯s breathing,¡± Tess told the group. ¡°And her eyes are open but blank, just staring off at nothing.¡±

    Ricki!¡± Carmen called out loudly, trying to elicit a shock.

    It worked. Across from me, the figure sat bolt upright and clutched both hands to her breast. Her head whipped back and forth, long hair flipping wildly about. ¡°Aaaaaahh!¡± she screamed, her whole body in full panic mode. Seeing Tess standing over her, Ricki flopped off the table and into Tess¡¯s arms, taking both of them to the floor.

    ¡°Dude, chill! Chill, already!¡± Tess¡¯s tone held little patience in it. She got to her knees, half holding Ricki and half pushing her away. It made for an awkward embrace. For some reason, my mind focused on the grapevine tattoo crawling up¡ªNicki¡¯s?¡ªupper arm and shoulder. I had always wanted to get a tattoo (really, you¡¯re thinking that now?).

    Tess tried to stand, but the sobbing girl clung to her like a second skin. I could see the moment Tess caved in, relaxing back to the floor and giving in to the embrace.

    ¡°Guys, seriously, what the fu¡­,¡± Tess cut off at the sound of heavy footsteps. The sound of clomping boots reverberated, coming closer and closer. It looked like we were about to confront one of our captors for the first time.

    We saw the shadow of a large figure extending towards us in an elongated nightmare. That told me a new light source had appeared, probably from a door opening, directly behind the person moving inexorably our way. One heavy footfall fell after the other, with all the available time in the world marking the strides. When our captor came even with Steve¡¯s and my cell, it pivoted on one heel and faced us directly.

    A shiny, silver coverall that fit so tightly it looked painted on covered most of it. And I mean ¡®It¡¯; this creature was no human. Mottled green skin was exposed at the hands and from the neck up. Those hands had to be two (three!) sizes out of proportion to the rest of the body. There was purple hair bristling from the knuckles. The lumpy, bald head had oversized and pointed ears, with a notch missing from the right one, and fat lips. The bottom lip was thrust out, courtesy of two tusks (tusks?!) that curled up under its potato of a nose. A single, long purple hair grew out of the wart clinging to the tip of said nose.

    Don¡¯t say it, do not even think it!

    It had a webbed belt wrapped around its thick waist, one side holding what looked like a tablet of sorts, the other with a handgun, sans holster. The weapon just hung there, with no visible attachment. It was a large pistol, sized for the creature''s ridiculous hand, with a typically standard grip, and trigger assembly. The long barrel tapered down before suddenly flaring out into a cone on the end, and three, progressively smaller, concentric rings floated around it. Again, nothing visible connected the rings to the barrel.

    Nope, nope, nope.

    The thing opened its mouth and barked a series of grunts in our direction. The tusks garbled the sounds even more than they already were. ¡®How do they keep from piercing their bulbous lips with those things¡¯, I thought and clapped one hand against the side of my cheek. My bit-through tongue pulsed in my mouth.

    It added gestures to the torrent of noise as if that would help us understand what it was saying any better. It barked one last grunt, made one last shooing gesture with its Hulk hands, then reached for the tablet at its side, and pressed a button.

    Arcs of green lightning struck out from the force screens imprisoning us, one seeking and finding each person dead center in our sternum. I managed to stick my tongue to the roof of my mouth and out of the way before the seizure hit me. We all fell to the ground, convulsing like a demon in church.

    Try as I might, I could not stop one last thought from crossing my mind.

    Freaking Space Orcs! With Fraking Ray-guns!

 Chapter 22: Power, Progress, and Roots

    Chapter 22:  Power, Progress, and Roots

    The eight parchments Magali had given me were now six magic scrolls, three [torchlight] and three [heat], leaving two to experiment with. Three, if I found a way to use the one that I had accidentally marked up the last time. There was a drop of ink with a vertical smear of some  more above it. It almost looked like an exclamation point. I wasn¡¯t sure what I could do with it, so I let some ideas percolate in the recess of my mind. Maybe I could get the [Mark .07] to dedicate a sub-routine to it, ha! There ought to be something I could put all that processing power to.

    I only had the two types of ink to work with, both common quality. One had been tailored for the [torchlight]s, with paraffin, and the other with added vermiculite for [heat]. I didn¡¯t know any other recipes, yet, so I was limited in scope. I wanted to try out my idea of over-infusing [heat] and setting of a chain reaction, so I grabbed a primed sheet of parchment and set it before myself on the kitchen table. The tabletop had collected a few more dings¡ªand ink slpots and a teeny-tiny, barely visible (if you¡¯re blind), scorch mark.

    I did my centering exercise, then delved deep in to the aether. This was where the mind-vision-[mana] blended and let the user see into the Void where the bonds of creation and matter co-existed. I could see the internal structures behind the individual cell walls, and the multitudinous arcs of every imaginable type of energy dancing in ever-changing hues of color. This must be how God¡ªor the gods¡ªsaw the universe. It was a heady feeling, and explained the arrogance of most [mana] users.

    ¡°By the power of Greyskull! I have the power!¡± I thrust my hand in the air, an imaginary sword piercing the sky. It was a good thing that I was alone. Well, except for Stormy. The black tabby gave me a flat, amber-eyed stare.

    I dove back down into the Void, after my little surface-breaching jaunt. When I primed this sheet, I had filled the cells to a comfortable capacity, just as I was taught. Now, unlike enchantments or finalized scrolls, changes could still be made at this stage. Was it a touch volatile to leave a parchment primed and ready? Only as much as leaving a shotgun loaded and cocked. And that is why a [Scrivener] infused them as needed, instead of keeping reams of primed parchments lying around. Ka-boom! Aaah-ah-ha-ha! JK, not so much. It was more of a flash and sizzle, but you could lose an eyebrow that way (you would know)! I rubbed above my eye, feeling the stubble growing back.

    I poured more energy into the cells, stopping when I saw bulges begin to pepper the surfaces. This was the delicate part, next, so I did a quick re-centering to stabilize my metaphysical hands. Careful, be careful. I brushed a light touch of [mana] across the cells, then waited for it to be absorbed. Then I did it again, and waited. And again. I lost track of how many times I did this, laser focused in my work. Stars were born, flared, and died in the microcosm I lorded over, supreme and uncontested. I felt the slightest flicker of attention at ¡®uncontested¡¯, but ignored it with the full measure of arrogance that I was due. I pushed as far as I dared, then added one more layer to be taken in. Just short of bursting, their membranes fluctuated and roiled, angry soap bubbles on methylphenidate (that¡¯s just Ritalin, jack-ass).

    I pulled out (don¡¯t! Just, no), and swiped the back of my hand across my brow. That was a whole bunch of calories burnt. My palm came away wet with sweat. It was so bad I looked around for something to wipe it off on.

    ¡°Stormy? Here, kitty-kitty!¡± The ingrate flashed his tail at me, then headed down the short hall to Tess¡¯s room. ¡°Traitor, I¡¯m the one that rescued you from a life on the streets!¡± I called after the little bastard. ¡°The mean streets of Oakheart, ¡®dun-dun¡¯!¡± Jeez, I have more social interaction with that darned cat than other people. My inner bickering (and exposition) showed how exhausted I was.

    I checked the over-clocked parchment resting in front of me. It fairly radiated [mana], and I could see wisps of it floating off the page without having to toggle my [mana-sight]. OK, step one complete. I was afraid to touch the thing, so I was careful not to brush it as I reached for some ink. I had put tiny labels on the vials, ¡®V¡¯ for vermiculite and ¡®P¡¯ for paraffin. The two different inks  looked identical to me with the naked eye, and I wondered how Masters like Alric could always tell them apart. Maybe a [mana] resonance, or something like that. Hmm, that resonance theory¡ªthat I¡¯d just thought of¡ªwas a new path begging for exploration. But, later. Same with the ¡®naked eye¡¯, my implants giving me access to so much more than plain sight, and I already knew I could customize the labels I saw. Add both to my mental list. I should also look for a notes function, yeah!

    Stay on target.

    I dipped my quill (careful), worrying my my lower lip with my teeth. If this parchment blew on me, I¡¯d need a [Healer] to re-attach it. My tongue pulsed in remembered pain. I traced the first strokes of my pen against the sheet, spelling out the word ¡®heat¡¯ in [ink; common] (¡®V¡¯). Yes, Magali had let me know that the language of magic was the concept of a word spelled out in the ancient dialect. I have to say, I was a little disappointed in the simplicity. The first pass complete, I repeated it with a firmer hand, and firmer intent. The same as with infusing the cells. A touch as light as a whisker, over and over, with building layers of ink and intent. When I was down to the last tracing, I pulled back from my trance. I needed a moment to figure out the new trigger I intended, so I could modify the outcome. I wanted all of the [heat] to blast out instantaneously, along with the micro explosions of overcharged cells. An exothermic combustion of epic proportion, he-he.

    ''Wait, should I be doing this in the apartment?'', was my last thought before my hand moved of its own volition. AND THEN¡­nothing too dramatic. The glistening shimmer of a success crawled across the ink laid to parchment, and a magic scroll of [heat-blast] was born.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    *Ding!*

    *Ding!*

    *Ding!*

    Whoa. That last one about turned my brain to pulp, triggering a migraine of epic proportion. I slammed my elbows down on the table, and clutched my head in both hands. I pulled the long, sparse strands of my hair (not fooling anyone with the comb-over, dude) away from my vibrating skull until the roots were about to give, and held them there, trying to physically drag the pain out. Mother Trucker. It had not hurt this bad since the initial switch-on.

    Hold-on-hold-on-hold-on; just endure.

    ¡­book¡­Book¡­¡±Book!¡±

    I knew she was there, Tess. I knew it, and I tried to care. It wasn¡¯t until she spun my chair around, and knelt with less than an inch between us, face to face, that I could focus on her. The concern in her eyes saved me, brought me back from the brink.

    Whoa. I had already said it, and I¡¯ll say it again, ¡°Whoa.¡±

    ¡°Dude, what happened? And let you hair go, for acorn¡¯s sake!¡±

    She gave me ¡®dude¡¯, and I gave her my new swear. We were close like that, a meeting of the minds, two peas¡­Oh, yeah. I let go of my hair, taking more than a few hairs away in my fingers. I could feel what¡¯s left sticking straight out from my sweaty dome. I must look like I had a Van der Graaf generator shoved up, uh, clutched in my hands.

    I focused on the sprinkle of freckles that decorated Tess under the eyes, and let the implications of what had just happened stream freely. There were pulsing flashes coloring the edges of my vision in a green glow. A new, bold-typed message was plastered before my eyes.

    ¡°Tess. Level 2. I just made level 2!¡± I pulled her up with me as I sprang to my feet, and snatched her close in a tight embrace.

    ¡°Dude, that¡¯s awesome!¡± She made a slight pull against the embrace, so I let her go.

    ¡°I think it almost killed me, though.¡±

    ¡°You look like it,¡± she said. Tess took a quick step towards me, then used her hands to smooth my hair back, followed by another quick step back. It all happened before I had a chance to react. ¡°Tell me.¡±

    I needed to know first, so I inspected the scroll on the table.

    *[Heat-blast] scroll; minor, common quality, single-use.

    (When invoked, a small exothermic combustion will occur at a point determined by the user. Range, 3 meters; Cast time, instant.)

    Crafted by Jasper Bookmyer, Apprentice.

    Bonded by¡­[error]*

    First off, damn. Second, three meters was what, about nine feet? That was close, too close for me. A good thing I wouldn¡¯t be the one using it. It was also the first time I¡¯d seen a power quality, ¡®minor¡¯, on one of my scrolls. Something had gone right to achieve that. No power description meant blah, my usual standard. Workable. And for that last bit, the [error], what gives? This creation was my own, with no Master Alric involved, so that could be it. Unsanctioned and unapproved, my signature all the way.

    Next, I checked my notifications.

    *[Folder]->[Skill]-><ul>

    <li>

    1. [Translation; superior]

    2. [Ink; poor]->[Ink; common]->[Ink; good]

    3.  [Torchlight; common]

    4. [Aether-sight; common]

    (The ability to peer into the Void and see the energies of creation)

    5. [Over-charge; common]

    (The ability to [mana] fill cells to the point of no return, then one step more)*

    That was the first two *Ding!*s. I had hardly felt those. Then came the whopper.

    *[Class], [Scrivener; apprentice]

    (Bonded by Alric Tavoryn, Master)

    [Level], 2; [Progress], 9 / 16*

    Followed by,

    *[Folder]->[Skill (2)]-><ul>

    <li>

    1. [Heat-blast; common]

    2. [Open]¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­.

    3. [Open]¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­

    4. [Open]¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­

    5. [Open]¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­..

    [Folder]->[Title]-><ul>

    <li>

    1. [Experimental Pioneer]

    (Congratulations! You were stupid¡­BOLD¡­enough to play with fire and create a new, unique scroll.

    +10% chance to successfully discover new applications of [mana] with intent in regards to magical scroll making.)

    2. [Open]¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­*

    The new descriptions for the [Skill]s must be a feature of the long suspected learning algorithm. Either that or the [Mark .07] felt I needed more information for the new ones. A willful decision? That implied a whole slew of insight I¡¯d need to consider. List; Added. Where was that notes app?

    [Title]s were new, too. And cool, I must say. It looked like there was space for two of them at this [Level]. A 10% increase in possibility was a good boon, but how was that even measured? Magali new some magical theory from his time scribing, so I¡¯d figure a way to ask without giving my origins away. The snark had to be from my influence, no question. The [Mark .07] and my brain were inextricably intertwined¡­indubitably? (yup, what¡¯s the sound of one hand clapping?)¡­so it was bound (inevitable!) to happen.

    [Level] was expected, and [Progress] was intuitive. 9 of 16, and I had nine slots filled between [Skill]s and [Spell]s¡ªif you counted the three iterations of [ink; ¡­]¡ªwhich jumped me to [Level; 2] with an addition under [Skill (2)], so carry the three and multiply by the inverse, add one for luck, and you have the formula. Remember, Not a math major.

    [Level; 1] 0-8 [Skill]/[Spell]s, including differing progressions of quality.

    [Level; 2] 9-16 [Skill]/[Spell]s, including differing progressions of quality.

    [Level; 3] 17-25 [Skill]/[Spell]s, including differing progressions of quality?

    Not a very fast progression, it seemed. The 25 [Skill]/[Spell]s would feel impossible, only the ¡®differing progressions of quality¡¯ keeping it from a total spirit crushing.

    ¡°That is¡­a lot, Book.¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    ¡°Nicki level pain?¡±

    ¡°Ricki, yes.¡±

    ¡°Shit.¡±

    ¡°Thankfully, I didn¡¯t.¡± I grinned at Tess. ¡°Close, but no.¡± What is with the face? Come on, that was funny.

    Tess tapped her pursed lips, a clear sign she was in deep thought.

    ¡°Tess?¡± Then I took a gamble, and said ¡°You¡¯re close, aren''t you?¡±

    She stopped tapping, giving me a fearful look. ¡°I hit eight on the scale, today.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± I told her. ¡°I hope your hair has stronger roots than mine.¡±

    </li></ul></li></ul></li></ul>

 Chapter 23: Fantasies, Tryouts, and Raised Brows

    Chapter 23:  Fantasies, Tryouts, and Raised Brows

    Magali and I dodged our way through the congestion surrounding the adventure bulletin boards, looking for the red-headed Tak. My two days had passed, making it Eight-day, the day I was supposed to meet her here. It was the middle of the standard three-day weekend, which meant most, if not all, apprentices had the time to mingle. Six-day and Nine-day were a gray area for some, but not Eight-day, it was inviolate. They were even legally enforced by the Matriarchy. And there was no better place to gather than the central courtyard encircled by the major Guilds. None that were free, anyway. Apprentices were the college students of this world, spending their (parents) money on cheap rent and cheaper alcohol. The adventure boards lent a certain atmospheric flair to the downtime, allowing thoughts (fantasies!) of high adventure, gold, fame, and¡­getting out from under their Masters. (Goooold!) Only a handful were serious about joining the life, the rest were here for that last part (which? both!). Apprenticeships weren¡¯t a 9 to 5 job, five days a week, with your nights and weekends free to fill at your leisure and free internet. No, your life was tailored around the particular Master that held the leash. Metaphorically, of course, though there were always rumours in the air (Night Ranger!), ¡°¡­like a thief in the night,¡± I burst forth into song.

    Metaphorically, of course. No way was I going to sing out loud in public, not with my voice. I didn''t want to entertain torches and pitchforks.

    ¡°What¡¯s that, Book? I don¡¯t recognize the words¡­nice tune though, I like it.¡± He tried to hum along with me.

    ¡°Never mind, Magali. Just a little ditty I heard somewhere¡­(about Jack and Diane)¡±. Wow, those were true oldies. ''Dear Mother of Trees, if you see fit, please let some Bard invent rock ¡®n roll. Or better yet, Metal! Bless your roots, Amen, and Kiss the Girl''.

    ¡°Do you see her?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do,¡± I told my friend. I would know that shade of red anywhere and had quickly spotted Tak amidst the crowd. ¡°Over there,¡± I said and pointed to the same bulletin board where I had found her last time.

    We headed towards her, making the occasional detour around some individual clusters of friends. Like on my first trip here, the place screamed of high school cliques. Apprentices had their own hierarchy based on the status of their Masters. I wondered what Magali and I would rate. Tak, who I would have thought ranked relatively high, was conspicuous in her solitude. Her choice? I was looking forward to coming up behind her and, maybe, just giving her a little startle.

    ¡°You''re here,¡± she said without turning around. Spoilsport. Her gaze was fixed on the board, so I tried to peer over her shoulder and see which notice had her attention.

    ¡°Guild team tryouts!:  The Matriarch of Willowstohn, Her Majesty Tellia the First, has proclaimed a Festival of Trials to take place on the vernal equinox, four months hence. Six new Guild Houses will be constructed over the intervening winter season, allowing the placement of six new, official Guild Teams. The aspirants must consist of a six-person team, not previously affiliated with any current Guild Team. Prepare Yourself! And vie for the honor of your matriarch¡¯s favor!¡±

    There was an addendum under it, in smaller print.

    (Tryouts are open to all denizens of Oakheart and the surrounding lands, encompassing the whole of the Willowstohn Nation. All are welcome¡ªApprentices must have the permission of their Master. Entrance fee: 60gp)

    The proclamation was printed on thick paper, festooned with seals and a single, red ribbon. Mr. Wordsworth would be proud of the immaculate penmanship, with some additional flourishes that would make an artist weep. Magali gave a low whistle after he finished reading, and I doubt it was for the content. He was about as adventurous as I was. Hanging under the poster on small chains pinned to the wood, two bound reams¡ªof a much lower grade of paper¡ªswung to the rhythm of the passerby. One was marked ¡®full teams¡¯, the other ¡®searching for a team¡¯. From the pencil Tak held in a lowered hand, I guessed she had just signed her name to the second one.

    ¡°Hi, Tak,¡± I said, placing an emphasis on her name. It had taken me long enough to find out what to call the fiery enchantress. Or maybe, [Enchantress]. I was not sure, but it was where I was leaning. There needed to be an [Enchant] in ¡°Harmsson & Tak; *enchanted tailors*¡±, and I knew her father was the tailor. I supposed she could be a tailor, too, with a little helper elf ensconced in the back. Wait, was that racist? Speciest? I tried to avoid the minefield in my head since the elves themselves would have no idea what I was going on about. As a matter of fact, did I? Don''t answer (gotchya).

    ¡°Book,¡± she said, and then turned to face us. ¡°Magali.¡± She gave the scribe a familiar nod. She gestured to the canvas satchel I held under my arm. ¡°Those the scrolls?¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got six to sell,¡± I told her, not mentioning the two [heat-blast] I figured I would showcase to Rolf. We planned to head to Team Brawn¡¯s little, rundown Guild House when we were done here. Thinking of Kolin¡¯s team in conjunction with the royal writ staring back at me, I wondered about the ¡®official¡¯ Guild Teams and whether there were ¡®unofficial¡¯ ones, as well. Another potential income stream? Or something to steer clear of?

    Tak made a ¡®come here¡¯ gesture, so I obliged and took a few paces closer to her. So she could better see what I had to offer, OK? (?!) The scrolls! The scrolls.

    ¡°I have three of each, ¡° I said. then I reached in and pulled out one of each so she could inspect them.

    ¡°Common.¡±

    The scrolls, right?

    ¡°They are, though I¡¯d like to think on the higher end of the spectrum.¡± Hey, I said ¡®like to think¡¯.

    ¡°Six coppers, apiece,¡± she said, or more accurately, stated.

    The price I¡¯d given Kolin was seven coppers, and Rolf ended up paying just under that, so I didn¡¯t begrudge her the six copper attempt. I could do the ¡®friends and family discount¡¯ for her, that was OK. But I had quoted the [heat] at ten coppers, and I couldn¡¯t live with myself if I went lower than nine. Magali and I had discussed the prices on the way over. Our profit margin would be higher since Magali had sourced the parchments for lower. Quite a bit lower than the full retail price I¡¯d paid to replace Master Alric¡¯s stock. My solo cost of 4.2 coppers in supplies and materials was now reduced to our cost of two coppers per scroll. 1.9, to be exact. One copper for my ink ingredients--only because Master Alric could afford to buy them in bulk quantity--and just under that for Magali and his parchment source. What was the name Magali had told me? Paytin, the apprentice parcheminier. We needed to think more about looping her in, but that would still leave what I needed to make the scrolls. Aside from time, [mana], and my massive talent (an unbearable weight). Nope, that wasn¡¯t arrogance, not at all.

    Doubling the profit, but cutting my take in half. Hunh. I would need to figure out a better balance of distribution, considering the more that I contributed. But, I had told Magali fifty-fifty partners. Oh, well, live and learn.

    Before I could open my mouth, Magali stepped in. ¡°We can do that, but only for the [torchlight]s. The [heat] scrolls will cost you ten coppers, each. That is a total of forty-eight for all six of them.¡± He paused here, waiting for Tak¡¯s counter.

    ¡°Forty-eight.¡± Tak was an expert at the one-eyebrow move. ¡°How long have you known me?¡±

    Not long enough. (Jeez, desperate much?)

    ¡°Forty-five¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­forty-seven¡­¡±

    ¡°Forty-six,¡± they came to an accord. I couldn¡¯t tell if they were friends, or what.

    Tak pulled coins out of a purse built into her belt and handed them over to Magali. I needed one of those belts, especially if this budding venture took off. I caught Tak glancing at the inside of my pouch as I took out the scrolls she had purchased. Before I knew it, her hand shot out and snatched my wrist in a vice grip.

    ¡°Umm, Tak?¡± I stared at her in surprise. ¡°Wanna let go of me?¡±

    ¡°What are those,¡± she said, gesturing to the two [heat-blast] scrolls that remained in my bag.

    I made my own attempt at the single raised brow¡ªpretty sure both crawled to my hairline¡ªand looked pointedly down to where her fingers were leaving white marks on my skin. I didn¡¯t say anything.

    ¡°Tak,¡± Magali huffed, impatience in every line of his body. Then he did the thang, and I felt totally inadequate. Two out of three (eyebrows) ain¡¯t bad, my ass.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said, her tone screaming ''Not!'' Yeah, yeah, my inner sarcasm and inside jokes were ramping up. Insecurities suck. I was growing, evidenced by keeping my mouth shut, but there was still a long way to go. She released her grip, and I took the apology for what it was.

    I unfurled one of the [heat-blast]s, and held it out for Tak to see. She made to reach for the scroll but aborted the move. Her eyes narrowed in a tiny squint, reading the description from where she stood. My descriptions came courtesy of the [Mark .07] implant, but I still had no idea what the native elves saw. I really wanted to come out (origin-wise) to Magali and probe him for answers to my endless questions. Someday, maybe. I could see when Tak came to the results, as her eyes popped open wide. I could see her fingers twitch, wanting to rip the scroll from my grasp. Something like this would certainly help any aspiring adventurer. What was her niche, anyway? Was I right about her being an [Enchanter]? If I was, a [Scrivener] and an [Enchanter] would make a good team.

    ¡°H-how much?¡± Her cool slipped for half a moment. ¡°I can pay.¡± I knew combat scrolls were on the rare side outside of the major Guilds, and the Royal Guard, but the greed in her eyes surprised me.

    ¡°Not for sale,¡± Magali said. I knew his ploy.

    I cut in with, ¡°Yet. This is the first generation, umm, my first try with something new, and it still needs some testing.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®new¡¯? Something you found in Master Alric¡¯s old, campaign notes?¡±

    ¡°Nah,¡± I replied, not thinking. ¡°Something I thought up and threw together.¡±

    ¡°W-what?¡± It was Magali¡¯s turn to lose his cool. ¡°I just assumed you got it from your Master.¡±

    I may have let him assume that, or at least not corrected him. Come to think of it, he had also mentioned something about a campaign.

    ¡°Eh, no biggie.¡± My try to play it off fell on deaf ears. Their eyes were as big as saucers. ¡°Hey, Tak, do want to come and see us test it? We are heading out to a friend''s (Kolin¡¯s ¡®officially¡¯ a friend, now?) Guild House from here.¡±

    ¡°You are friends with a Guild Team?!¡±

    Should I be offended by her surprised tone? I saw I went up a few notches in her estimation. She didn¡¯t give me time to think about it before accepting.

    ¡°Yes, I would, Book. That is if you are both good with that.¡± She flashed me her front-counter smile, turning the sales charm on. ¡°I would be greatly interested in seeing the results of your hard work.¡±

    Wow. The girl could give a person whiplash, switching personality gears that quickly. A true professional.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go, then,¡± I said, not giving Magali a chance to object. I turned and started walking to the Guild housing blocks, the best of which were built on the edge of the formal courtyard. Our trek was going to take a lot longer to reach its destination.  Where were the new ones being constructed? Eh, no business of mine. I don''t believe in silly things like foreshadowing. They both followed along behind me until we came to the wide, paved street and had room to spread out. Magali and Tak flanked me as we walked the streets down to Team Brawn¡¯s Guild House. That was a lot of capital letters.

    My damned [System] made me see all of them, even if I didn''t physically ''see'' them.

 Chapter 24: Fwoomp!, Urrp!, and G-O-L-D

    Chapter 24:  Fwoomp!, Urrp!, and G-O-L-D

    ¡°What am I doing¡­why me¡­I don'' wanna¡­huffhuffhuff...¡±  I paced about thirty yards down range, far enough that those behind me were perfectly safe. Me, on the other hand, I was holding the damn thing. Whose bright idea was this, anyway? (Yours!) Right, right. ''Well, oh great voice in my head, you are stuck here with me'', I thought hard at myself. I was starting to wonder about my internal thoughts, some not exactly feeling like they were mine alone. ¡®If that is you, my friendly Tusk Industries [Mark .07], you supercomputing, bio-hacking collection of wires and circuits, and mind melding, invasive, parasite¡­where was I going with this? That¡¯s right, if I go boom, then you go boom.¡¯ (Wires?! How gauche)

    I eyed my intended target, a roughly humanoid (arrogant)¡­ person-shaped bundle of sticks and dried hay, with a half-rotted gourd for a head. I stopped three meters from it and ignored my watery knees. The scroll of [heat-blast] trembled in my hand as I held it out to arm¡¯s length, the unfurled end jumping in exaggerated tandem. I looked like I had palsy. Or I needed a fix and the corner store was out of Twinkies.

    ¡°OK, here we go.¡± I closed my eyes, took two deep breaths, and tried to center myself. ¡°Alrighty then¡­¡± I gently reached out with my [mana],  just tickling the scroll¡¯s trigger¡­

    ¡°Do it, hunh!¡± Rolf, Team Brawn¡¯s leader, shattered my calm, any thoughts of caution fleeing in vain like a scalded howler monkey.

    The inked words on the parchment flared into tendrils of fire, licks of smoke clouding the air, and traced each letter in the blink of an eye before burning completely through the sheet. Embers and char spread from the negative space still holding the shape of the words, consuming the scroll until the whole thing poofed into smoke. Three meters in front of me¡ªnine feet!¡ªa small fireball erupted from the center mass¡­fwoomp!¡­and the stuffed mannequin exploded in flames.

    I jumped back a foot, too late to matter but unable to fight my flight. ¡°Whoa.¡±

    ¡°Duuuude!¡± That was Tess. Before I knew it, her weight crashed into me and I staggered forward towards the fire, out of control. I bit off a yelp, dug my feet into the ground, and stopped just short of the blackened and smoking remains of the gourd. The heat from the burning facsimile beat against my face, leaving me flushed. Who had thought it a good plan to make the target out of ridiculously flammable materials? Yeah, that was Magali. He had wanted a good show and wallah! Mission accomplished.

    The rest of the observers walked forward, more sedate and thoughtful. Kolin sported a huge grin, Magali acted all business nonchalant with Tak a half step behind, and Rolf had greed in his eyes. They stopped beside me, the flames casting shadows that swirled around their features. Rolf kept on a few more steps, invading my personal space so I had to move out of the way. The big adventurer peered down at the busted squash, then stamped his heavy booted foot down and ground the leftovers into the dirt. The smell of roasted pumpkin wafted into my face.

    ¡°Hunh,¡± he said, looking down at me from his greater height. I took another backward step so I didn¡¯t have to crane my neck back in order to look into his eyes. Staring a customer square in the chest was a poor negotiating position. Literally.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± Magali asked him, trying to sound unimpressed, and the giant switched focus to the scribe.

    ¡°Could be better.¡± Rolf¡¯s eyes judged the distance from us to the smoldering remains. ¡°Awfully close, hunh.¡±

    I could see Magali considering what to say, his mouth working a bit in silence. If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d say he had a glob of peanut butter stuck to the roof of his palate (Mr. Ed! Oh, Wilbur¡­). Wow, that was dug up from deep in my mind, but internet memes rallied for the save.

    ¡°Not for good teams, Rolf. It is perfectly within the capabilities of a second liner. Or better yet, a stealth specialist. It is much greater than the reach of any sword, or of the claws of a monster. Fangs and stingers would be impotent. It could even be deployed from behind a shield, and imagine the look on your opponent¡¯s face, then! Ha-ha.¡± Tak swooped in, coming to Magali¡¯s rescue. Still recovering from my actions I had not even considered talking, but the fiery elf maiden went full-on sales wonder. Without being asked, I might add.

    Rolf opened his mouth, and I sensed another ¡®hunh¡¯ dropping out. Tak didn¡¯t give him the chance.

    ¡°With these scrolls in your arsenal, you will be the envy of any team. You want to climb the ladder, right? Move into a dwelling further up Guilded Row?¡± The city planners thought they were clever on that one. Gilded. Tak swept an arm, taking in the communal training field we stood on. ¡°Maybe some private grounds to train on? Hmmm? Also, and think hard about this, Team Brawn would be the first to use these groundbreaking [heat-blast] scrolls. You, Rolf, could lead the team that leads the pack.¡± The big adventurer''s eyes glowed with ambition.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Magali and I stared at each other, jaws wagging in the wind. But we knew when to keep our traps shut, so we snapped them closed and squared our shoulders. We had found the perfect front person and face of this new endeavor of ours. I made a quick decision, determined to make sure this was not a one-time thing, smaller margins be damned.

    ¡°Exclusive,¡± Rolf said in a flat tone. He was good at stating questions as a done deal. That and ''hunh'' were his trademarks.

    Tak shook her head, looking sad but resolute. ¡°Sorry, no.¡± She finally graced us with a look. I don¡¯t know what she saw on our blank faces, but she gave a decisive nod and focused solely on Rolf, again. ¡°Not long-term, anyway. But, maybe, as our first buyer for the [heat-blast]s, we could see to giving you the right of first refusal for, say, the initial ten scrolls that are crafted.¡±

    Ten of them? I could swing that, I think.

    ¡°Twenty-five.¡±

    My eyes bugged out at the number Rolf named. That was a lot of scrolls to find materials for. We would need to bring Paytin in for sure, if she was willing. We were headed to see her, next.

    ¡°We could do fifteen.¡± Tak countered.

    ¡°Hunh, twenty.¡±

    Tak made a show of thinking¡ªshe had no idea what we could produce!¡ªand paced in a small circle. She suddenly stopped and turned back to Rolf. She hesitated, then nodded firmly. ¡°Seventeen, firm. That is the best we can do for you, Rolf. A great opportunity, all around. Don''t forget about the Festival of Trials coming up.¡±

    "Team Brawn is already official, so what do we care?" That was the longest sentence that I had ever heard him say. Had Tak found a chink in his armor?

    "That is just the main event appealing to the public. We both know there will be other chances to show off, maybe catch the eye of a rich sponsor?" Tak sure could talk when she donned her professional persona.

    ¡°Twenty-five silver each.¡± Again, Rolf stated the question.

    ¡°Rolf, really, don''t try to lowball me. I, we, were thinking along the lines of¡­¡± Tak was ready to take off again.

    Numbers, numbers everywhere! They were dive-bombing me from every angle, shooting holes in my limited patience. I could not listen to any more talk of numbers without chewing my tongue to ribbons, so I put my brain to rest and thought of butterflies and apple pie. (Mmmm, pie)

    Tess interrupted me before I could start to drool, taking me by the arm and walking me off to the side.

    ¡°Book, dude, that was awesome. The way that dummy went up, swoosh!¡± She threw her hands up in the air, releasing me from her grip as we kept walking. There went my human touch.

    ¡°Dried-out hay and sticks will do that.¡± Good old me, self-deprecating as usual. Humble. Let¡¯s go with humble. ¡°Did you know a new scroll would be this big of a deal?¡±

    ¡°Yes, actually, I did.  I have been getting some basic adventuring knowledge out of Kolin, and he told me how long it has been since magic made any new progress. Only a few old campaigners have seen it in their lifetimes. This is going to make a huge splash, Book. I hope you¡¯re ready.¡±

    ¡°Not in the least,¡± I shook my head. And I was the one that was supposed to know about magic, not Tess. I have a blind spot when it comes to whatever talent I might have. ¡°Is that why we found you here, with Kolin? Learning about being an adventurer?¡±

    When Magali, Tak, and I had arrived at Team Brawn¡¯s bungalow we found Tak and Kolin sitting in a chair on the deck. She was in his lap, urrp!, but I swallowed the bile in the back of my throat. I now considered Kolin a friend, but I could¡¯ve lived without that sight. When I had told them why we had made the trek here, Kolin set Tess on her feet and went to find Rolf. His chair wasn¡¯t all that far away, so Kolin was back with his team leader in a matter of minutes. After hearing me, Rolf led the group of us to this training field, and the other members of Team Brawn tagged along in our wake.

    ¡°Yes, Book. You know I have been thinking about it.¡± She knew I disapproved of the idea, my face giving it away, but rightly thought I had no say in the matter.

    ¡°Since you met Kolin.¡± I couldn¡¯t keep the sullenness at bay, the words spilling forth in mild accusation.

    ¡°That¡¯s right, Book,¡± she returned with mild warning. She said it with a smile, so I nodded ruefully. ¡°You know I want to be more than a [Courier]. You are.¡±

    ¡°Well, if you do become an adventurer, I know this guy who can hook you up with some fancy scrolls. For a price, of course.¡±

    ¡°Oh, of course.¡±

    ¡°The guy is kind of a mess, though, so I bet you could get a good discount.¡±

    ¡°I like the sound of that.¡± She clutched my arm again, bumping shoulders. It felt good. Don¡¯t you dare bat those caramel eyes at me, woman!

    ¡°There is one problem,¡± I sighed. ¡°See, this guy, he has partners, and they are all about the gold, G-O-L-D.¡±

    Tess squeezed my arm tighter, laughing at my so-called solemn banter.

    ¡°The red-head sure can sell. You¡¯ve told me about your friend, Magali, but I don¡¯t think you have mentioned her, before.¡±

    Why did I feel oddly guilty? ¡°She¡¯s not really a part of it or wasn¡¯t anyway. Tak was tagging along to see how the new scroll worked, then when the negotiations started she just jumped in. A good thing, too¡±

    ¡°Tak, huh.¡± Tess mused over the name. ¡°I think you¡¯d better recruit her, fast.¡±

    ¡°Trust me, I intend to. How could I not, after that display? I¡¯m sure Magali will agree, too. He also has another person in mind, a supplier, but I want to keep it at that. Unless¡­?¡±

    ¡°Not my thing,¡± Tess said and shook her head. ¡°I plan on training up, putting my money towards some equipment once I find a specialization.¡±

    ¡°I do owe you, Tess, for the rent. Maybe I could offer something in trade, instead.¡± I tried (failed) to raise one eyebrow. How do people do that?

    ¡°I¡¯d be up for that, How much?¡±

    ¡°No idea. I¡¯ll let you know as soon as Tak tells me.¡± I gave her a goofy grin, and we both broke up laughing. ¡°I still have both eyebrows, don¡¯t I?¡±

    We walked back to Rolf and Kolin¡¯s¡ªand teammates''¡ªrundown shack masquerading as a bungalow amidst a fit of humor.

    I crack me up.

    (Groan!)

    "Any ideas on specializing?" I asked her in an attempt to mend fences.

    "Something fast!" She took off and sprinted, grinning ear to pointed ear, and left me to stare after her. She had a nice...form.

    I waited until she was too far away to hear me (coward), then mumbled "Just remember, you always have one option if the fires get too hot...

    ...RUN AWAY!"

 Chapter 25: Dysentery, Ramblinâ€™, and Sweet Tea

    Chapter 25:  Dysentery, Ramblin¡¯, and Sweet Tea

    ¡°Thirty-seven silvers apiece!¡± I fairly shouted the number, ecstatic with the price. ¡°That is¡­oof,¡± Tak¡¯s elbow to my gut let the air out of me. I tried to keep my balance, walk, and glare at her all the while I was bent nearly in double.

    ¡°Quiet,¡± she hissed at me. ¡°Not until they can¡¯t hear us anymore.¡±

    ¡°OK, OK,¡± I wheezed at her. Then at a much lower volume, ¡°That¡¯s six gold and twenty-nine silver, sweet!¡±

    ¡°Half up front, too,¡± Magali chimed up, giving the cloth pouch he carried a little jingle. Three gold rubbing against another fifteen silvers made the most wondrous sound. He¡¯d been the one to insist on a down payment, thinking of the supplies we¡¯d need to procure.

    I knew that combat scrolls jumped up another level in comparison to utility ones, so I¡¯d figured a bump from ten coppers for [heat] to ten silvers for [heat-blast]. It was only logical, after all. When Rolf had initiated at twenty-five, I had wanted to dance a little jig. The only thing that had stopped me was Tess taking hold of me. I still felt a shiver, just a different one. I hadn¡¯t counted on the nature of a unique never-been-done-before magic scroll. Turned out, I was a pioneer! (Don¡¯t die of dysentery)

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget my cut,¡± Tak cut in.

    ¡°Yeah, about that¡­¡± I started.

    ¡°Not here.¡±

    ¡°Why? They can¡¯t hear us, now. We¡¯re too far away,¡± I protested, a little annoyed. That was twice that she¡¯d interrupted me.

    ¡°Are you only planning to sell to one team?¡± Her tone said we¡¯d a fool to think that. Or to question her.

    ¡°No,¡± I was not sullen. Magali had the sense to keep quiet.

    ¡°Take a look around, boys¡­¡±

    Say what?! I kept my mouth shut, this time. I can learn, you know. (But, can you?) Eventually.

    ¡°¡­all of these are your potential customers.¡± She made an expansive gesture, encompassing the rows of Guild Houses we walked past. ¡°If you¡¯re not idiots.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± said Magali, nodding sagely. ¡°We need to look like professionals.¡±

    I shot him a look, ¡®Really, dude?¡¯ He grinned back in return, spoiling his serious demeanor.

    ¡°Right.¡± Her eyes started their roll at me and finished it at Magali. ¡°Just follow my example.¡± Tak walked at a measured pace, neither hurrying nor dragging her feet, and stared straight ahead with a half-smile on her face. When did she get a pace ahead?

    So we followed her, Magali matched her smile and I tried to. The furrow between my eyes contradicted the curve of my lips and pain flared along my clenched jaw. ¡®Think of the money¡¯, I told myself. Silvers and gold, baby!

    The distance was the same, but it sure felt to take much longer than before. We reached the end of Guilded Row where it met the now-familiar courtyard. Once the three of us crossed the boundary, Tak suddenly increased her pace, putting even more distance between us. Magali and I still followed her and did our best to catch up. It seemed we were on the same page when it came to recruiting her. Besides, we owed her something for the help with negotiations--hopefully, a stake in our game.

    I wanted to question the girl, but Magali motioned to stop me whenever I started. I guess he did know her better, but it still galled me. I¡¯ve never been more than casually acquainted with patience, not when my mouth wanted to run off with itself. Diarrhea of the mouth, my Dad called it. Hey, I felt more fondness than sadness this time! Progress.

    Tak led us through the courtyard and down a few more streets. According to my [min-map], we were headed to the vicinity of her father¡¯s tailoring shop. I was surprised, thinking she hadn¡¯t wanted her father to infer anything. Then, without slowing much, she took an abrupt turn midway down a street and headed into a cafe. Painted on the front window in golden letters was the name ¡°Karlinne¡¯s Tea Emporium¡±. Once inside, she led us to a small, square table in the corner between the window and a wall. She slid one of the two seats on the far side slightly away from the table, and took the other for herself. Magali and I took the point and sat side-by-side across from her.

    Again, I opened my trap to say something only for her to interrupt me.

    ¡°You¡¯re paying,¡± she said, then waved down a server before either of us could say anything. ¡°Black tea, milk and sugar,¡± she told the teenage girl who had approached with a pad and pencil at the ready. ¡°And a gooseberry scone, clotted cream on the side.¡±

    Alrighty, then. She was one of those.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Same,¡± Magali ordered. ¡°Only no milk and no cream.¡± He patted his stomach apologetically. ¡°Doesn¡¯t sit right with me.¡±

    So, lactose intolerance was a thing with some elves. ¡®Good to know¡¯, I thought and made a note to sit downwind of him if I ever invented pizza. Cheese-less pies were never going to be allowed in my new world.

    ¡°Do you have any large glasses?¡± I asked the server.

    ¡°So you want ice water, then?¡± she asked me in turn.

    ¡°No, but if you can fill the glass with ice and bring me some lukewarm black tea, the cooler the better, that¡¯d be great. Also, some sugar on the side, and a wedge of lemon if you have it. Thanks. Nothing to eat.¡± I guess I was one of those, too. I had heard of gooseberries, mostly from reading, but had never tasted one, and there were no blueberry scones listed on the chalkboard behind the counter. The waitress raised an eyebrow¡ªher, too!¡ªthen scribbled down my order, before leaving and heading to a service window behind the counter.

    ¡°Karlinne! I have an odd one for you,¡± rang out, loud and clear. Eh, whatever.

    Tak cleared her throat, ¡°Ahem¡±, then stared at us. Magali and I exchanged a look, and I nodded for him to take the lead since he knew her.

    ¡°First, thank you, Tak, for helping us out. You didn¡¯t have to do that.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± The smiling, flirty sales guru had well and truly been switched off.

    ¡°Yes, ahem. We would not have done as well without you.¡±

    ¡°Twenty percent, and I¡¯ll take it now from the deposit.¡± She didn¡¯t try to play humble off of Magali¡¯s statement, and dove into the heart of the matter. ¡°A hundred and twenty-six silver.¡± She rounded it up in her favor.

    Magali smiled and nodded¡ªun-ironically¡ªand set the coin purse on the table, then began counting with no argument.

    ¡°Here you go, Tak,¡± he said handing over one gold coin, accompanied not by twenty-six silvers, but thirty of them. When Tak reached for them, Magali laid his hand flat over the precious pieces of metal. ¡°Or¡­¡±

    ¡°Magali,¡± Tak filled the word with malice.

    ¡°Or, Tak,¡± he emphasized her name with a smile. ¡°Hear me out on this. Join us, and we will pool the coin and put it towards the materials to make many more scrolls. After a fair tithe to each of us, of course.¡± That smoothed her features some, but only a tad. Her frown was firmly in place. ¡°See, Book has this idea. He wants to get together a few apprentices and join forces in making some side profit outside of our Masters. And before you say anythin¡¯, we know tha Master¡¯s break u¡¯ any ¡®prentices who grou¡¯up and make a nuisance.  Bu¡¯ not us, see, Book¡¯s a plan¡­¡±

    Before the scribe could keep rambling, or ramblin¡¯, the server was back with our order. Good timing, since Magali had started clipping his words as his excitement grew. I loved the guy, Bless her Roots.

    ¡°Black tea, milk and sugar, gooseberry scone with clotted cream,¡± each item placed before Tak as the serving girl parroted it. She moved to Magali, repeating the process. ¡°Tea, sugar, scone.¡±

    Then it was my turn.

    ¡°One glass of ice water, no water.¡± Clink. ¡°Pot of tea, lukewarm.¡± The small ceramic pot landed with a bit of a thud. ¡°Sugar.¡± Clunk. ¡°Lemon,¡± she finished, and gently sat a whole fruit down in front of me with exaggerated care, her eyes wide with feigned reverence. ¡°Can I get you anything else?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re good,¡± Magali said, the consummate peacemaker.

    Everybody took a moment to fuss with their order, clinking spoons against ceramic and, in Tak¡¯s case, pouring thickened cream on her scone. Me, I poured tea over my glass of ice, then added a generous amount of sugar and stirred it all together in a swirl, cubes and spoon rattling against the glass. I picked up the whole lemon, trying to figure out how to get my wedge.

    ¡°Do either of you have a knife,¡± I asked looking up from my mixology. I was met with wide-eyed stares. ¡°What? I need to wedge it.¡±

    Sometimes, I really enjoyed the looks I got for my otherworld behavior, he-he.

    Tak narrowed her eyes and Magali grinned wide, both reaching for pockets. They each pulled out a small knife and went to hand it over, his hilt first and hers pointy ended. I should have gone for Magali¡¯s, but instead, I grinned and went for the one in Tak¡¯s hand. I reached past the blade, my fingers brushing hers as I gently took it out of her hand. From her look, I was lucky to still have all my digits. With a steady hand, I cut a single wedge out of the lemon. I took my time and rubbed the rim of my glass with it, then gave a gentle squeegee and dropped it in my iced sweet tea. I wiped the blade of the knife off on my napkin, then gave it a flip in the air and handed it handle first back to the redhead.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± I raised my glass and took a sip. Pretty good, but not quite right. That was par for the course, however, a different world with most everything just left of center (can¡¯t you say ¡®different¡¯, English Major?)(and that saying is for politics, dumb-ass). OK, that one had a much ¡®different¡¯ flare than usual.

    ¡°What is this plan of yours?¡± Leave it to Tak to get us back on track.

    ¡°Simple,¡± I said. ¡°We stay under the rad¡­stay low-key. Small sells to a few select Guild Teams. Just enough to make a modest profit, you know. I want to be a [Scrivener], not a business mogul. But nothing says I can¡¯t be comfortable in the meantime.¡± I gave a wink and a click of the tongue (nice nod).

    ¡°And you think that is different?¡± Tak was incredulous.

    ¡°Yeah, Book, that¡¯s kinda how it always starts. Then people get greedy and the Masters have to step in. If they didn¡¯t, then every apprentice would veer off their studies to pursue gold.¡±

    ¡°It would be chaos,¡± Tak inputted.

    ¡°Dogs and cats living together¡­MASS HYSTERIA!¡±

    ¡°Be serious, Book,¡± Magali admonished me. ¡°Think, what would happen if apprentices stopped learning? Or learned incompletely, only enough to make their product? It could taint their craft, depreciate it. Or worse, make mistakes, and people get hurt?¡±

    Wow, they were intense. But, ¡°You mean things could stagnate? With no new advances in, say, magic?¡±

    Tak snapped her mouth closed on a retort, and Magali looked shocked. My idea of a simple plan may have been debunked, but they saw a new light on the rarity of new inspirations.

    ¡°You all were impressed with my [heat-blast], but it was only a variation (abomination) of the time-honored [heat] scroll. I applied new thinking to an old concept. We can do the same here, go in with a new set of rules and stick to them. We will hold each other accountable, slapping down anyone who gets too greedy.¡± I sat back in my chair and took a long gulp of iced tea. ¡°Simple.¡±

    ¡°Not really, but¡­¡±

    ¡°But.¡± Tak agreed with Magali.

    Magali was already on my side, business-wise, so I didn¡¯t need to convince him. Still, my take on ¡®new¡¯ had impressed him. But was it enough to sway Tak in our favor?

    Yes. It was.

 Chapter 26: Stench, Partners, and Cheats

    Chapter 26:  Stench, Partners, and Cheats

    ¡°Gak! What is that smell,¡± it was rude, but I couldn¡¯t help it. I clapped a hand to my nose and mouth, fighting the urge to retch. We had just entered the back room of the local parcheminier shop, behind the ubiquitous counter separating the front sales and display room from the workspace of the cookie-cutter buildings along Parchment Lane. As soon as Magali and I crossed an invisible border, the stench of rot and sulfur assailed us with an almost physical force. I literally stumbled at its strike.

    ¡°Oh, nothing, Book. Just flesh rotting off of the skins of dead animals in a vat of lime. Why, does it bother you?¡±

    I spun to look at Magali, stunned speechless. How could he say¡­yeah, right. The blank face of my friend held for a couple of beats, then he had to breathe. His face contorted, laughter wrestling with an involuntary grimace.

    ¡°Funny. Ha. Ha.¡± My face twisted on the last ¡®ha¡¯. Wow, it reeked in here. ¡°Why did it hit so suddenly? It wasn¡¯t this bad in the other room. Something this bad should be smelt for blocks!¡±

    ¡°Come on, Book. Surely you¡¯ve come across [barrier]s before? Even in a small town like your Boulder.¡±

    ¡°Uh, yeah,¡± I thought fast. ¡°But they must have been much weaker.¡± That should work, for now.

    ¡°Yes, ours is top of the line,¡± said the pretty, middle-aged woman who had led us behind the counter. She had long, chestnut ringlets coursing down her back and past her small waist. ¡°You should know, your Master crafts the scrolls we use. We like to keep our golds within the community.¡± She walked as she talked, tossing her words over her shoulder. Scrolls and enchanted gemstones were the most common source of [mana] workings available to the common folks, so Alric¡¯s proximity made for an easy choice. It also seemed the neighborhood residents worked to help each other.

    She skirted a trio of smelly barrels, and strolled up to a younger version of herself, in shape¡ªthe girl¡¯s waist was absolutely tiny!¡ªand hairstyle. The woman gently placed her hand on the small of the back of the figure, which could only be her daughter. The girl turned, a questioning look on her face.

    ¡°You have visitors, Paytin,¡± the older woman said, carefully shaping the words with her mouth.

    Paytin set down the scrapper in her hands. She had been methodically cleaning hairs and leftover viscera off a hide fresh from one of the soaking vats, the animal skin stretched taught across a wooden frame. I knew, intellectually, how parchment was made, but seeing it in the process was¡­disgusting (Amen!). She wiped her hands on the grimy apron she wore first, then coated them in a substance that looked suspiciously like hospital hand sanitizer. She waved them in a classic air-drying move, then removed a narrow cloth band that encircled her head. As she walked over to us, I saw that it was a tiny version of a surgical mask, only big enough to cover her nostrils. That helped explain how she could stand it back here without passing out from the smell. I was already starting to feel woozy, and I¡¯d only been standing in the nasty vapors for a matter of minutes.

    ¡°Hello, Magali. It is good to see you.¡± Paytin talked slowly and at a low volume, with precise enunciation. Then I remembered Magali saying something about her being hard of hearing. She had been born that way, he¡¯d told me, so there wasn¡¯t much a [Healer] could do for her. Healing magic was more focused on repairing newer physical damage than anything congenital: battle wounds and industrial accidents, fresh injuries.

    Paytin deliberately faced me, holding out a hand. ¡°Hello.¡±

    ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Book,¡± I told her. ¡°One of Magali¡¯s friends.¡±

    ¡°Oh good, that gives him two!¡±

    The target of her jab showed mock surprise, clearly used to the teasing at his expense.

    ¡°Hey, no fair!¡± Magali protested to Paytin. ¡°I have friends, you know. What about Tak?¡±

    ¡°Your Masters are friends, not you two,¡± she said, mischief running rampant in her startling bright blue eyes.

    ¡°Well,¡± Magali stuttered. ¡°How about¡­¡±

    ¡°Chet.¡± Paytin must have read my lips, as she burst into laughter. Even Paytin¡¯s mother chuckled as she left us to it and headed back to the front of her store.

    ¡°Funny, you two. Real funny. You just met, and you¡¯re conspiring against me.¡± His words were angry, but his tone and laughter said otherwise. ¡°Anyway,¡± he said. ¡°We have a business proposition for you.¡±

    Magali went on to tell Paytin of our ambitions, explaining that we wanted her to join our little cabal. He went on about our respective roles, with him as the brains¡ªmy word¡ªand procurer, Tak as the face, and me as the hands.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Where do I fit in?¡± she asked. ¡°Aside from¡­¡± she gestured to the rack of drying skins to be made into parchments.

    ¡°Well, tha''s a pretty important par¡¯, essential. But I also thought you coul¡¯ keep us organized.¡± Magali was off to the races, again. Everybody--and their mother--could tell when he got excited about a topic. ¡°We both know oter ¡®prentice¡¯s, but I can be a litta¡¯¡­¡±

    ¡°Disorganized?¡± Paytin said.

    ¡°Scatterbrained?¡± I contributed.

    ¡°Rambling?¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Magali started to show symptoms of irritation as we went on.

    ¡°We love ya, man,¡± I placated him. ¡°And, after all, Master Alric always tells me distraction is a sign of genius.¡±

    ¡°A caution sign,¡± Paytin started up again, and I followed.

    ¡°Yeah, ¡®caution, slow children ahead¡¯,¡±  I guffawed. The two of them gave me a funny look, and I knew I¡¯d done it again so I tried to cut off my laughter. I was partially successful. Now it was my turn to say it. ¡°Anyway, that is our plan. You would get an equal share of the profits.¡±

    That part still felt unbalanced to me, since I was the one actually making the scrolls we¡¯d be selling. We were too far down the path to change it now.

    ¡°We won¡¯t cut into your apprentice training time, too much,¡± I told her.

    ¡°No problem,¡± she waved it off. ¡°I want in.¡±

    Her eagerness took me by surprise, especially after dealing with Tak. Was Paytin looking for something other than her apprenticeship, following in her mother¡¯s footsteps? I was wholeheartedly into my training, being a [Scrivener] was everything I always wanted. Writing plus magic equals a happy Book, my favorite type of book! (Who are these puns even for?) Quiet, brain! If that¡¯s even you. If not, then let me add, an Elven Times bestseller!

    ¡°I knew you would be, Paytin,¡± said Magali.  ¡°I told Book he didn¡¯t have to worry. So, it¡¯s official. And speaking of, do you think that you can hook us up with some decent parchments?¡± He smiled, not wanting her to feel belittled after her earlier comment.

    ¡°Sure. Are common quality OK, Book? Where are your scrolls ranking in?¡±

    ¡°So far,¡± I replied, ¡°I¡¯ve been managing to get common out of poor parchment and good ink.¡± I¡¯d actually gotten a common rating for the [heat-blast] scrolls, the whole two I¡¯d made, with common ink and poor parchment, but an inordinate amount of [mana] had gone into them. Too much to make them practical, in the long run. What good was a printing press that could only make a pair of copies? Using double commons should fix that.

    ¡°That is really good,¡± Paytin sounded surprised.

    It is? ¡°Eh, no biggie.¡±

    Paytin looked confused at my slang, again, so Magali jumped in. ¡°You¡¯ll get used to the way Book talks, eventually. He¡¯s from some small town on the border, so, you know, a country hick.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Payback is a bitch.

    ¡°Ah, I understand. A big city can scare a country mouse.¡± She said it with a solemn face. I thought Magali had said that she didn¡¯t like to talk much, so I must have a face built for abuse (whan-wa).

    Paytin walked over to a cupboard, opened it, and examined the contents, then she pulled out a thick sheaf of finished parchments.

    ¡°Will twenty-five be enough to start?¡±

    Seventeen to Rolf, and eight to spare? ¡°Um, yeah, that should do it.¡±

    <hr>

    One-day came, and it was back to the grind. Master Alric had me working on bumping my [ink; common](V) up to match my other good quality ink, the one already taking its place on my [Skill]s list. Hopefully, this one will soon join it. I crossed my mental fingers. The physical properties of the ink, those I had down pat. It was the [mana] infusing that held me up. The technique varied ever so slightly for the different mixtures, the intent needed to match the formula exactly. They were subtle differences, but important, just as in science-based chemistry. Get the concentrations off, add one too many or one too few drops, and even the simplest formulas could fail.

    Magic made things even harder, being intangible. It could not be measured, weighed, or even labeled consistently. A teacher can impart guidelines, wisdom, and experience, along with recipes, formulas, and techniques, but the art of it is wholly individual. Enough lecturing, I got enough of that from Master Alric. Besides, I might have a cheat code in my back pocket--specifically, the [Mark .07].

    ''OK, if you can hear me, Marky-mark, let¡¯s work the problem together''  I thought at, well, my own thoughts. I didn¡¯t receive an answer, not in words or direct information, but there was a vague¡­something.  An impression of an impression, with the texture of an agreement. But not with the name, certainly no agreement on that score. I¡¯d work on it.

    This time when I concentrated, I felt some of the burden lifted off my shoulders. My [ink; good](P) started to activate, but then paused with a slight hang-up, before it shifted in time with my new intent.

    *Ding!*

    *[Folder]->[Skill (2)]->

    [Heat-blast; common]

    [ink; good](V)

    [Open]

    [Open]

    [Open]*

    *Ding!*

    *[Folder]->[Title]->

    [Experimental Pioneer]

    (Congratulations! You were stupid¡­BOLD¡­enough to play with fire and create a new, unique scroll. +10% chance to successfully discover new applications of [mana] with intent in regards to magical scroll making.)

    [Cheater!]

    (Congratulations! You leaned on an !ntelligence superior to your own, bypassing h@rd work and discipline, to skip ahead and craft an item(s) beyond your current capabilitie$.)*

    Want to know my new mantra? Eh, whatever.

    Why own a Ferrari if you never take it out of the garage? I¡¯m going to drive the thing until its wheels fall off. And after that?

    Eh, whatever. To quote one of my favorite characters, that is future Book¡¯s problem, not current Book¡¯s.

    I want to say that I am a character in my own Book, but I¡¯ll restrain myself. It¡¯s too cheesy. I am just happy that I no longer get a ¡®brain hug¡¯ with every new addition to my [Skill]s or [Spell]s. But, no matter how much I wanted to progress, the thought of the pain involved with leveling up made my bladder go weak, boy howdy! That one was courtesy of the soldier boys during World War I.

    I think that I had better call it a day, my exhaustion clearly evident in the dopey internal monologue I couldn¡¯t fight off.  I found that these shortcuts used an exponentially greater amount of [mana], especially the first time. But was I going to give them up?

    Ha, good sir! I say, HA!

 Chapter 27: A Note, A Recipe Book, and an Insight

    Chapter 27:  A Note, A Recipe Book, and an Insight

    The next day, I had a spring in my step on the way to ¡°Papers & Powers¡±. It is amazing what a good, twelve hours of sleep on a belly full of meat and carbohydrates can do for a person. On the way, I stopped off to get a pair of sticky buns for my breakfast. I had intended to give the second one to Master Alric, just to be nice, but found myself licking the goo off of my fingers and empty hands when I walked up to the door. I mentally clicked my only spell, [apprenticeship unlock], and the handle turned by itself, the door swinging open with the jingle of the overhead bell.

    I was a little surprised by that. It usually just unlocks, and then I have to open it myself. It must be the [level] increase that made the difference. Lately, Master Alric had already opened up the shop by the time I got here ever since I made [level] 2, marking a surprisingly long run of beating me to the punch. I wonder what changed to make him so punctual. I still needed to work on additional [spell]s, somehow. I was falling behind in that area, with only one [spell] to seven [skill]s, one of which had evolved multiple times. I pulled up my lists to check on them.

    *[Folder]->[Skill]->

    1. [Translation; superior]

    2. [Ink; poor]->[Ink; common]->[Ink; good]

    3. [Torchlight; common]

    4. [Aether-sight; common]

    (The ability to peer into the Void and see the energies of creation)

    5. [Over-charge; common]

    (The ability to [mana] fill cells to the point of no return, then one step more)

    [Folder]->[Skill (2)]->

    1. [Heat-blast; common]

    2. [ink; good](V)

    3. [Open]

    4. [Open]

    5. [Open]

    [Folder]->[Spell]->

    1. [Apprenticeship Unlock; common]->[Apprenticeship Unlock; good]

    (As the official Apprentice to Master [Scrivener] Alric, allowing entry to any space locked by the named Master. Apprenticeship token       required.)

    2. [Open]

    3. [Open]

    Well, how about that? The [spell] had advanced without me noticing. The same had happened with my original ink [skill], too, so it was only the completely new ones that gave a notification. But still, why had the [spell] advanced when I hadn¡¯t been using it very often of late? If it was because of the [level] increase, all of them should have advanced. That would have been a major cheat, I felt. Mother of Trees knows I would take it, if true¡ªjust look at my latest [Title], [Cheat!]. Bless her roots.

    I don¡¯t know, maybe it has something to do with greater efficiency on my part, using less [mana] more potently. I also noted that [ink; good](V) had skipped over the common qualifier, so I was getting better. Except, it did rob me of an extra evolution to count towards my progress increase. It was typical for progress to get harder the further you advance, I guess. Too bad I didn¡¯t have my tablet with dozens of litRPG novels to compare it to, he-he. I do think that my [System] had evolved from those concepts, tailoring itself to a pre-determined vision I already held in my mind. Tess¡¯s [System] manifested itself a little different from mine, though I could tell I had influenced it, too, from my descriptions to her.

    The shop was empty, as I expected, so I headed to the small part I could call my own. A note waited for me on my worktable.

    ''Book, since you have advanced your second ink to good quality, I want you to work on a new one. Go through the recipe folder I have left for you, and find one that resonates with you. Be sure to take into account what the ink is best used for, and what direction it will take your studies in. Do not try anything too advanced, remember that a solid foundation will take you further over the course of time. Basic utilities should not be shunned for something flashy, all things extend from their building blocks, as you know.

    I will be indisposed for the day, maybe some of tomorrow. Keep the shop closed to the public and work on your training until I return. I trust you.

    Master Alric Tavoryn''

    OK, that was new. My Master had never left me to my own devices, before. And that last line touched something deep inside of me, a feeling that I had not felt since the abduction. The ''as you know'' line hinted at him knowing what I had done with the basic [heat] scroll. I had received neither praise nor ire from him, so it was a head-scratcher. Also, what did indisposed mean?

    Sure enough, a large folder marked ¡®Basic Ink Recipes¡¯ sat on my work table next to the note Master Alric had left for me. I picked it up and started flipping through the pages. Keeping the words of the note in mind, I stuck to the front portion of the collection.

    ¡°OK, what do we have,¡± I spoke out loud. ¡°Basic ink variations; stable, volatile, enhancing, protecting.¡± I already had a handle on the stable variety used in [torchlight] and the volatile for [heat]. I wondered why Master Alric had never put names to the inks he had taught me already, leaving me to add the (P) and (V) tags in my mind, and thus on the [Skill]s folder sub-list. Did he think it was obvious, the differences? Or was he not used to teaching an apprentice? At his age, he had to have had other apprentices, right? My new friends seemed a bit surprised at my position. I¡¯d have to ask Magali about it, sometime. Later tonight, I will see about using the customization feature to re-label and re-organize my folder lists.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ve always been a completionist on video games, so enhancing it is.¡± I had a lot of practice conversing with myself, too much probably.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡®Enhancing inks seek to reinforce the intent poured into them,¡¯ the recipe read. ¡®It starts with the base ink ingredients, just as all basic inks do. Include the paraffin for steady effects, or vermiculite for a quick-acting, intense reaction. Warning: Do not use both additives, the result being a contradiction with an unfavorable outcome.¡¯

    Nope, not ominous. Guess who was bound to try it at some point? Future Book, that¡¯s who. Without explicit details of what would happen, the curiosity cat would inevitably seize me. The only unknown was how much those claws were going to rake me. Not knowing the consequences was how I evolved [heat] into [heat-blast]. Rule breaking was the mother of invention, from the Wright brothers'' defiance of gravity to a certain hypertension medication¡¯s transition to the little blue pill that changed the world. Not that I would know anything about that, it was common knowledge, OK? (smirk)

    A list of possible ingredient additives followed the warning. There were notes added to each in a hand different from the original, presumably Master Alric¡¯s. My visit to Paytin¡¯s workplace got me thinking along the lines of a [barrier] shield. It had both a base utility aspect as well an obvious use in combat scrolls.

    Basic ingredients for [barrier] enhancements:

    Dire Swamp Ooze enzyme

    A protective coating that makes the gross slimes hard to damage, speaking from personal experience. Cheap and easy to source, if disgusting. Best for economy.

    (Protective coating)

    Modified platinum powder

    A pain in the ass to grind down fine enough. A great job for an apprentice like me, or so says Master Bane. The price depends on market availability. [Smith]s use it to strengthen their alloys, so it makes sense to use it here. Not my favorite, after the blisters from using my mortar and pestle for too many hours.

    (Straight up strengthens)

    Poison Tree Sloth saliva

    Dangerous stuff, if you get in on your skin. My hand lagged seconds behind my directions, moving in slow motion This from only one drop touching the back of my left hand! Extremely disorienting to observe. Expensive, but, with caution, it has the highest potential. The poison slows whatever it comes in contact with, even energized [mana], so the Sloth can gnaw on their prey while avoiding incoming damage. This slowing reduces impacts significantly. Always use it if you can get your hands on it, just be sure to use gloves!

    (Nulls impacts)

    Wyvern caul fat

    Master Bane¡¯s favorite. Relatively easy to source from adventurers, the mountains beyond Oakheart are full of the tiny dragonlings. A bit harder to take down than the slimes, but more favored for simple experience. And less gross. The little devils prey on any creature unfortunate enough to get in sight of the wyvern. They even devour Elementals, like the Oozes, the protective lining absorbing and storing the energy for quick access, giving it back in the next attack what it took from the previous victory. Good for using outside energy to power a [barrier]. Roughly the same cost as Ooze enzymes, harder to kill but easier to separate from the carcass than squeezing out the enzymes, so it balances out. Nobody in their right mind likes squeezing slime.

    (Powers itself, and has a chance of reflecting)

    Parchment variants for best results:

    Temporal Lizard Hide

    Extremely hard to find, which makes it extremely expensive to buy. Master Bane never used it, so I haven¡¯t had the chance to try it for myself. Would like to, someday. Maybe when I am a famous, well-to-do Master in my own right. It is hard to even find the properties it adds to the end result. My master won¡¯t talk to me about it much, so there must be some history there. Maybe I can ask old man Wordsworth about it. They fought in the first Chaos War together. The only reason Master Bane took me on as his apprentice is the possibility of a second war on the horizon. Maybe then I can make a name for myself like he did.

    (Unknown)

    Petrified Tree Bat Wing

    Easy, cheap, and adequate. Nothing remarkable.

    (Reliable, sturdy, flexible with intent)

    Albino Centipede Carapace

    Brittle and easy to crack. How it is made into parchment at all confounds me. It is a good balance, like the wyvern caul fat. Harder to make than other parchments, but more fragile, which drives down the demand and correspondingly the price.

    (Powerful until it cracks, making it a great initial deterrent but it weakens quickly if repeatably stuck in the same spot)

    Koi Fish Skin

    This is my preferred variance. The multi-colored fish skins give it a dramatic flair that I like. Nothing wrong with looking good, appearances can make a difference, in my opinion. That same flair is why my Master dislikes it, even though it compares favorably to the petrified tree bat wings. To him, plain is professional, and ornate is grandiose and arrogant. My father would have a fit if he saw the plain robes Master Bane made me wear. I even went out and bought my own, from my friend Harms who hooked me up with his father. I am not allowed to wear it, however.

    (Malleable coverage and as flexible as wing with infused intent, dramatically flashy on execution, and fun)

    ¡®Ingredients can be combined for varying results, basic ratios are notated in appendix C. Combining parchment variances is much more complicated, only capable through the efforts of a Master Parcheminier.¡¯

    ¡®Expensive as the Mother of Trees bark!¡¯ was scrawled in a bold hand next to the last part. I had no doubt it was true. The only way I could think of producing it would be to weave individual fibers of different hides into a grand tapestry. Of course, it was not my area of expertise, so I really had no idea.

    I learned about more than the Why¡¯s, How¡¯s, Do¡¯s, and Dont¡¯s of ingredients and parchment variances while pouring through Alric¡¯s apprentice notes, however. I also gleaned a bit of insight into the man, himself. It helped to explain both the miserly and extravagance that competed in his nature. I gathered he came from money and prestige, but set it aside to learn from the best. He also had a sense of humor! Or used to, anyway. Had something happened to change him, possibly this Chaos War he mentioned in passing, or was he trying to emulate his own Master when teaching me? And he had some good friends, whom I found myself befriending their offspring. I seemed to be following in his footsteps.

    Nothing wrong with that.

    Clu-thud!

    WTF? The noise came from overhead, sounding like a heavy object striking the floor of Master Alric¡¯s upstairs residence.

    Crash!

    I put the book down and rushed to investigate. It would be my first time setting foot in his private apartment, and I hoped my [Apprenticeship Unlock] would work on the heavy door.

 Chapter 28: Panthers, Tuskers, and Knees

    Chapter 28:  Panthers, Tuskers, and Knees

    When: Between then and now.

    Where: Between here and there.

    Who: Theresa ¡®Tess¡¯ Armstrong.

    I could care less about the nudity. At first, I was too scared to care, and now it is such a minor condition far outweighed by other concerns. I didn¡¯t even notice the furtive looks I got from the boys at this point. Steve¡¯s glances were possessive, making it hard for me not to both feel desired and irked at the same time. Book was much more subtle, but he still looked when he thought I wouldn¡¯t notice. Awkward the first couple of times, but whatever.

    I looked good.

    I just hope it won¡¯t fuel Book¡¯s infatuation too much. I¡¯ve always known he had a thing for me, ever since Honor¡¯s English when we were freshmen at Woodland Park High School. Go Panthers! We shared all of the Honor¡¯s classes, on track for college. He¡¯d tried to ask me out once, but he was so nervous I could hardly understand him. He was a nice enough guy, nothing wrong with him, just not one of my usual crowd. I didn¡¯t exactly ghost him after that, just being lightly social but nothing more. Neither of us ever brought it up.

    It was no surprise when we ran into each other during orientation at the University of Colorado. He looked so lonely and lost that I felt sorry for him. I knew he was too shy to come and talk with me, so I went to him, and over the next few years, we turned into great friends. I didn¡¯t begrudge him a casual fantasy or two.

    Now, we were naked and confined together, surrounded by my boyfriend, Steve, our good friend, Carmen, and the last conquest they¡¯d picked up (no longer). Not to mention the ugly, green brutes Book had instantly labeled Orcs. He was a fantasy nerd, and I could kill him for getting Steve into anime. The outfits he wanted me to wear now were cringe. No, thank you. Except for one or three times.

    A green blip in my vision pulled me back to the present. The computer that the Orcs had implanted in all of us¡ªpoor Bitsy, what a way to go!¡ªhad done some weird stuff to those of us still breathing. I could see any presence within a certain radius, blipping dots floating in my vision. I tracked the motion, careful not to turn my head. I was pretty sure the fucking Tuskers didn¡¯t know I could do this. The bastards didn¡¯t seem to have a great handle on what they¡¯d done to us. I planned to use it to kick their hairy, green asses!

    I didn¡¯t turn around until I heard footsteps stop behind me, and a shadow fell over me. Who was it going to be, this time? They came to take us, one at a time, at random intervals.

    It was my turn. The faint hum of the force field locking me in faded. The difference was barely noticeable, with all of the other fields holding my friends still active, but I had been waiting for this. So I stood and uncrossed my arms. Yeah, take a good look, fugly. I¡¯ve seen the tits on the female orcs, not to mention the brazen stares of the male hogs. All women knew when they were being objectified and could feel the prickles on their skin from a lustful gaze. I arched my shoulders back ever so slightly, not being obvious enough to put the creature on alert.

    Come on in, I¡¯m just a weakly, scared female. I couldn¡¯t possibly harm you.

    He paced closer, eyes roving my body. It made me want to puke. Then he got one step too close.

    My foot lashed out in a flat-footed front kick, my callous hardened heel taking the brute between the legs. The look on its face was beautiful, its eyes popping out and looking like over-filled water balloons. The oversized green hand clutched its crotch, doubling over with a high-pitched grunt. I just knew they¡¯d be built like any other male, regardless of species. The girls had boobs, so the guy had to have balls! Strike one!

    Two, if they were built like my buddies.

    I grabbed the uglies bat-ears, pulling down with its sudden hunch, and slammed my knee in its teeth. Ouch, dammit! I¡¯d forgotten the fucking tusks, one of them slicing through the skin of my knee. I felt the scrape along my kneecap, worse than Freddy Kruger''s knife fingers on a chalkboard. I think I hurt myself more than him, blood leaking down my shin and slicking the floor.

    Use it, I heard my martial arts instructor say in my head. So I quick-stepped out of the growing pool of blood, then snatched the silver jumpsuit and leveraged with everything I had, putting more into it than I could imagine. Thanks for boosting my muscles with your macabre experiments, asshole!

    When the giant, jack-booted foot hit my red-blooded blood it slid through it like goose shit on ice. I used the momentum to spin out of the way and let go of the suit, and the Orc careened into the back wall of my cell, its neck snapping with a crack! I could hear. It lay in a jumble of slack limbs, head cranked at an impossible angle. Strike three, motherfucker!If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    I quickly looked over the corpse, grabbing the tablet pinned to its belt. No ray-gun though, they were smart enough not to bring them into the cells holding us. Too bad their looks didn¡¯t match their brains.

    Book thought they were watching us on hidden cameras, and of course, they were. No time to wait around, I sprinted out to the hall, one hand clutched to my chest so I didn''t bounce. Poor Betsy would have given herself two black eyes.

    I went to Book¡¯s cell first. It was crap luck that Steve had been split off into his own cell, so I didn¡¯t get a two-for-one. It had been Book¡¯s job to study the technology, so he¡¯d be the best bet to figure out the cell controls on the tab. Steve was supposed to have my job, but the big lunk had gone for a head-on tackle when the chance was his. He was a linebacker, big and over-muscled¡ªjust the way I like him¡ªbut Steve didn¡¯t have near the mass to take down one of these monsters one-on-one. It was my training in jujitsu that won the day, using an opponent¡¯s size against them. Never trust a man to do a woman¡¯s job.

    I also got lucky. And we were no way near a win, just the opening moves.

    ¡°Tess,¡± Book called to me. I also heard Steve bellowing my name, but I had no time!

    I stopped short of the field holding my best friend and spun the stolen tablet so he could see it. He made some tracing motions with his finger, muttering under his breath, using the ability to read the Orc''s language we all now had.

    ¡°OK¡­OK..yeah, that one. Tess, hit the folder icon under security, there should be a list with cell numbers. Double-tap and it will unlock that cell.¡±

    I turned the slate back so I could see it, then frantically scanned the cell openings for markings. Three dashes and a dot were etched into the sill above Book¡¯s, so I found it on the list and double-tapped like he said. The entry on the list blinked three times, then grayed out. When the shield dropped, Book burst out and hugged me tight, the cold material of the tablet crushed between our skin. I gave him an impulsive peck on the lips¡ªwhy do guys always misinterpret that?¡ªand we ran to stand between Steve and Carmen¡¯s opposing cells. I found the number on Steve¡¯s, disabled it, and then spun on a heel to let Carmen out. The blood still gushing down my leg was my literal downfall, and I smacked my ass on the floor.

    It saved my life, as a bolt of green energy passed over my head and singed off some of the unruly mess I called hair. Before I could think to move again, Steve¡¯s large form barreled low past me. That¡¯s right, babe! Go for the knees!

    I couldn¡¯t lose focus, not now. I set Carmen free while still on my knees in a pool of my own blood. I heard shouts from the hall where Steve was sprawled against one wall, and Book was dangling in the air from the new orc''s hand. Book was leaner than I had ever seen him, all his trademark flab gone, from the gene engineering and starvation diet to keep us weakened. Even so, he was no match. He was clinging to the weapon in this Orc¡¯s grip, his upper body wrapped around the ray-gun as he clutched it to his chest. Thankfully the barrel way pointed away¡ªat me!

    Carmen shoved me, and the blast passed between us and splashed against the wall at the far end of the hallway. No way that went unnoticed. Carmen and I had the same idea, and we sprinted the length separating us and the still dangling Book. That shot had to have at least scorched him, but he was still in the game. I could see pain etched across his face. He couldn¡¯t hold on much longer. We slammed low into the side of the Tusker, our combined barely enough to move the brute.

    Book went flying and bounced off the wall before slumping, the ray-gun nowhere in sight.

    ¡°FUCK!,¡± I screamed.

    The Orc didn¡¯t even look at me, instead stepping over to Book and raising his leg. The massive foot was starting to descend towards Book¡¯s throat when a shadow reared up behind it. Steve put all of the strength and weight a top collegiate, scholarship-winning, and workout-obsessed linebacker could muster, aided with artificial enhancements, behind the butt of an alien laser gun with a twisted barrel on the base of the green asshole¡¯s skull. The gun blew apart in Steve¡¯s double-handed grip, pieces flying like shrapnel, and the Orc grunted.

    ¡°Oh, shit!¡± Steve yelled, wide-eyed. The massive hulk slowly lowered its foot and turned to face him. ¡°I¡¯m dead.¡± He said with an eerie calm, accepting his demise.

    ¡°No!¡± The scream tore my throat, but it didn¡¯t matter.

    The Orc went down like a puppet with cut strings.

    The four of us struggled to our feet, clinging to each other in a human jungle gym. We checked over one another, looking for any serious injuries. Outside of bruises and scrapes¡ªand my torn knee¡ªwe were in remarkably good condition. Book¡¯s neck was bleeding from where it looked like the Tusker had tried to gore him. The blood was starting to clot and not gushing, so he was OK.

    ¡°Phase two, bitches,¡± I said, grinning like a mad woman. We took off in opposite directions, a pair going each way, doubling our chances at escape. Book thought he knew a way to get us off the ship and down to the planet we¡¯d all witnessed below at one time or another as we¡¯d been dragged along the corridors. Book had flipped at the idea of windows on a spaceship, I had no idea why.

    I saw him following me instead of Steve, who was supposed to, according to my plan. But even the best-laid plans got fucked. As long as Steve was with Carmen, it didn¡¯t matter. I followed the directions down the maze of hallways, doing my best to remember how Book had described them. Now, as long I don¡¯t make a wrong turn, the four of us should meet up in what Book called the transporter room.

    Taking the next left turn I came to, I heard Book call out to me from behind.

    ¡°Tess, wait! That¡¯s the trash compactor room. We need to go right. Right!¡±

    Please, Book. For the spilled blood of Christ, DO NOT make a Star Wars joke right now!

    He led the way, after getting stalled for a second as he slipped in some blood.

    I followed.

 Chapter 29: Master?, Master!, and Burrito Rug

    Chapter 29:  Master?, Master!, and Burrito Rug

    I rushed up the stairs to Master Alric¡¯s apartment, pausing only long enough to use my spell on the door. It worked, Bless her roots, the door swinging open with force as I put too much [mana] into [Apprenticeship Unlock] in my haste. I quickly looked around, searching for what had made the sound. Sprawled out on the floor lay my Master, a low moan escaping his lips. I ran to him and knelt by his side.

    ¡°Master?¡± I said and gave him a gentle shake. ¡°Master Alric, can you hear me?¡±

    He groaned again, eyes scrunched closed in pain. Next to him on the floor was a medium-sized shattered glass flask, I¡¯m guessing that was the crash after the thud.  A puddle of neon green liquid soaked the large throw rug under my Master, staining the white and blue checked pattern, looking like a toxic waste spill from a cartoon. It glowed in pulses, giving off some wisps of vapor. Not knowing if the fumes were dangerous, I grabbed Alric by the shoulders and pulled him off the rug and away from the spill.

    ¡°Master!¡± I shook him harder this time, eliciting another groan. Panic and confusion warring in the glossy orbs, his eyes fluttered at me. ¡°It¡¯s OK, it¡¯s me. Book. Are you alright? What can I do?¡±

    He blinked owlishly, clarity and reason slowly creeping back in as he focused on me.

    ¡°B-Book? What happened? Why am I¡­on the floor? And what are you doing in my quarters? I didn¡¯t give you permission.¡±

    ¡°I heard a crash from my workshop, so I came up. I found you on the floor, next to a busted flask.¡± His arrogant demeanor surfacing was a good sign, or at least I hoped so.

    At my mention of the broken flask, a touch of fear crossed his face and he struggled to sit up. I got my arms under him and helped haul his bulk upright. I held on to him and he staggered a moment, looking for his balance. As soon as he found it I let go, knowing he did not care for physical contact.

    ¡°Ashes! My potion,¡± he looked forlornly at the scattered shards of glass amidst the neon puddle. He staggered a few steps closer to it, hands making a grasping motion. ¡°That was my last one,¡± he mumbled to himself. I had never before heard such a morose tone come out of him.

    ¡°Master?¡± I asked again like it was the only word I knew. Alric¡¯s legs shook so I hastened to hover at his side, ready to catch him if needed.

    He glanced at me and made to shoo me away, then reconsidered. ¡°Book, help me to a chair.¡± He waved me closer, wrapping an arm across my shoulder as I went to support him.

    We staggered together towards a heavily padded armchair set under a large window. I moved a footstool out of the way with one foot, then maneuvered to help rest his bulk in the chair. He let out a great sigh, accompanied by a complimentary sigh of air from the seat cushions.

    ¡°Thank you, thank you.¡± He waved me away, now that he was settled.

    ¡°Master, what happened? What was in the flask?¡± I was still repeating myself, but had at least found a few more words to fill it out. ¡°Are you sick? Is that why you left me that note?¡± Alric started at the word ¡®sick¡¯, and gave me a suspicious look.

    ¡°Nothing that concerns you, Apprentice," he said, formality firmly taking its accustomed place. ¡°Do not overstep yourself, Book.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just worried, Master. That is all.¡± I pointedly looked over at the mess on the ruined area rug. ¡°That potion,¡± how do I ask this, without bringing him down on me? ¡°Was it important? Something for your¡­health?¡± I braced for a tongue lashing over crossing a boundary.

    His face scrunched, a sure sign of an impending dressing down, then it suddenly relaxed in resignation.  Another sigh escaped him. ¡°Yes, it was important¡­for my health. A tonic for an old malady. That was my last one, too.¡±

    ¡°Just tell me where to go, Master, and I¡¯ll be happy to fetch another one.¡±  I wanted to ask about the mysterious ¡®malady¡¯, but knew better. I was glad that he had opened up to me even this much.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    He considered me with a piercing gaze, judging and weighing how much he wanted to involve me. I guess I passed the test when he relented. ¡°Fine, Book. Go to the Alchemy Guild, it¡¯s in the square with the other main Guilds. Ask for Master Tounsel. Whoever is manning the front will most likely make it difficult for you, saying he isn¡¯t available to the public. That is what he tells them to say. Be persistent, and tell them that you are my apprentice and that I sent you. They''ll test your patience, but don¡¯t give up, you hear? Go through his apprentice, Gaelia, if you have to. In fact, that might be easier for you. Tell her that you need my usual order early. You will probably have to wait while it is being made.¡±

    ¡°No problem, Master. I¡¯ll wait as long as needed. You can count on me.¡± He really could, too. He¡¯d given me a chance, taking on the burden of training me and giving me a place in this new world. I owed a lot to the man. Besides, I would always help someone in need, if it was in my power. I was awesome that way (dislocate your shoulder patting yourself on the back, why donch¡¯a?). Thinking¡ªhearing?¡ªthat meant I was calm, again. ¡°Will you be OK while I¡¯m gone? I could get, umm,¡± who would look in on him? ¡°Uh, Mr. Wordsworth,  I could ask him to come over, and check on you.¡±

    ¡°You will do no such thing, Book. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, after all.¡±

    Then why did I have to come up here? I carefully did not say it.

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± I gave him one last concerned look, then turned to leave. When I was almost to the door, he called out.

    ¡°Take the rug with you, it is ruined. You can toss it in the garbage out back.¡±

    I stopped, then turned back and walked over to the mess. Kneeling, I rolled it all up together, glass shards, radioactive spill and all. It was a large rug, making a burrito of epic proportions. I got it up on one shoulder, half of it sagging down my back. I got to the door and started reaching for the handle when Master Alric called out to me for the second time.

    ¡°Book.¡±

    I turned awkwardly, regarding my Master with a raised eyebrow (failed, as usual!), OK, raised forehead, and answered. ¡°Yes, Master?¡±

    ¡°While I appreciate the willingness, if you have enough coin to pay for my potion yourself, then I must be giving you far too large of a stipend, hmm?¡±

    Oh, yeah. Money, such an inconvenience. I felt the heat of a blush creep up to the tips of my pointy ears. ¡°I, uh¡­¡± I stumbled.

    ¡°There is a drawer in the side table over there,¡± Alric said, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth up. ¡°Inside it is a small chest. Bring it to me.¡±

    I shifted the weight on my shoulders and took a step toward the indicated table.

    ¡°Book?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Put the rug down first.¡±

    If my ear tips weren¡¯t burning already, they would be flaring up now.

    I struggle to put my burden down, ending up letting the heavy roll slide down my back to the floor by the door. I went and opened the drawer, finding it deeper than it should be¡ªmagic!¡ªand grasped the locked chest inside it. Ooof! Damn, it was a lot heavier than I expected. I shifted my grip to get a better hold, then walked it over to the chair Master Alric sat in, and put the chest down on the small folding table sitting next to the armchair. The thing looked exactly like a TV tray, the spitting image of the one I ate my dinners on in my tiny studio in Boulder. Admittedly, Alric¡¯s was a much nicer version than my stained and dented one, with the mishmash of condensation rings vaguely resembling the Olympic rings.

    My Master shifted in his chair, turning the chest so the opening faced him. A look of concentration settled on his features, his dark green eyes either flashing with magic or reflecting a gleam of sunlight from the window. Magic, obviously, given where I was.

    The iron-bound chest (pirate treasure, me matey!) whirled and clicked, a complicated locking mechanism releasing the lid, which slowly opened itself on oiled hinges. Master Alric counted out a handful of gold coins¡ªgolds, not coppers or silvers!¡ªand put them in a little cloth pouch he then handed to me.

    ¡°How much¡­¡± I started to ask.

    ¡°Never you mind. Just give Master Tounsel the pouch. But get the potion first, understand?¡±

    ¡°I understand, sir.¡± I tried to judge the number of coins by the weight, but it far outweighed¡ªha!¡ªmy experience.

    I hung the purse opposite from my own meager one--I didn¡¯t want my coppers to get jealous--then struggled the heavy bundle of fabric back onto my shoulder. Navigating the stairs was a bit tricky, overbalanced as I was, but I managed without taking a tumble. I didn¡¯t head around back with it, but instead started carrying down the cobbles of Parchment Lane before I had a sudden thought and stopped. Instead, I lugged the burden across the street, and, yes, I looked both ways first.

    I set the rolled rug down outside Mr. Wordsworth¡¯s store, then poked my head in the door.

    ¡°Mr. Wordsworth?¡± I called out. I started when he answered me from just behind the door and off to the side, not expecting him to be so close.

    ¡°Book, how can I help you, lad?¡±

    I hesitated, as Master Alric¡¯s words about not involving anybody else ran through my mind. Mr. W must have seen the conflict on my face.

    ¡°What¡¯s happened, Book?¡±

    So I told him about how I found Alric. And before I could say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious¡ªthat¡¯d be a great name for a spell, wouldn¡¯t it?¡ª¡°Wordsworth¡¯s¡± was locked up and Magali shouldered half the ruined rolled rug (he-he) as the two of us headed to the Guild square, with a planned stop at my apartment. I couldn¡¯t afford to worry about toxic stains, and the hardwood floors of my place got chilly in the mornings. I was grateful for the extra help.

    And, we¡¯re off to see the¡­Alchemist.

 Chapter 30: Master?, Master!, and Burrito Rug (part 2)

    Chapter 30:  Master?, Master!, and Burrito Rug (part 2)

    We had to stand in line at the Alchemy Guild, waiting for the counter person to get around to us. It wasn¡¯t a very long line, but the elf at the counter seemed to take pleasure in moving as slowly as possible. Bureaucracy at its finest, the bottom of the pecking order looking to fulfill a power fantasy.

    We¡¯d walked in, chatting about nothing, and I saw a line of three people. Not too bad, I thought to myself. If I could get the potion back to Master Alric in a timely fashion, that left me time to work on some personal projects. I went to take my place at the back of the line when Magali nudged me and pointed to a contraption on the wall next to the door.

    ¡°You need to grab a number, Book.¡±

    A number? Please, no. I looked at the red-painted, wheel-shaped object that stuck straight out of the wall, with a paper ticket hanging out of the end. Inked in red on the white tear tab was the number, ¡®13¡¯. I tried to resist the call of the letters on a sign attached to the wall next to the dispenser, but the surrealism grabbed hold of me and shook me uncontrollably. I didn¡¯t know if I should laugh, cry, or run in a circle and cluck like a chicken.

    ¡°Please take a number. Someone will be with you shortly.¡±

    My body shook with restrained¡­laughter? Hysteria?¡­and I tore luck number ¡®13¡¯ from the roll. Sometimes, the similarities hit me harder than the differences. Floating orbs, or, hell, a tiny faerie tracing a sparkling ¡®13¡¯ in the air with a magic wand would impact me less.

    ¡°Book, are you OK?¡±

    ¡°Hehehe,¡± I giggled. ¡°Now serving, number six-hundred-sixty-six.¡±

    ¡°What? No, it says thirteen.¡±

    I looked at my friend, the giggles threatening to overwhelm me.¡±Right, lucky number thirteen.¡±

    ¡°Lucky? Three and nine are lucky, everybody knows that, but I¡¯ve never heard of thirteen being lucky.¡±

    I didn¡¯t know what to say to that.

    ¡°Let me guess, another quirk of Boulder?¡± Magali smiled as he poked fun at my supposed backwater of a hick town. If he only knew.

    ¡°Yeah, something like that.¡± I wasn¡¯t about to explain the human perversity for our twisted, backhanded propensities. In other words, opposite day. Bad is good; fire is cool.

    I went to stand behind the others, but the much more experienced Magali pulled me to a row of hard seats along the back wall, next to a side door.

    ¡°We are in a bit of a hurry, Magali,¡± I protested as he took a seat. ¡°Master Alric was looking pretty crappy when I left.¡±

    ¡°Trust me, the last thing you want to do is stand in that line. That¡¯s Maldyn at the counter, and he likes to make everything as hard as possible on people. It makes him feel powerful, or something. Just petty and small-minded, and we all know it.¡±

    ¡°We all¡¯? Are there apprentice meetings every third Sunda¡­Nine-day or something? You all get together and plan the downfall of society over tea and scones?¡± It certainly felt like there was a sort of underground apprentice network. Would they have special passwords? Magical decoder rings? I wanted one!

    ¡°Ha! No, but we do talk to each other. That¡¯s how I know where to get cheap supplies. And if I don¡¯t know somebody, then I know someone who knows somebody. Anyway, Maldyn doesn¡¯t even rate an apprenticeship anymore. He is kind of a cautionary tale, a guy who drifted from craft to craft, never finding something he could even be mediocre at. His last try was here before Masters started locking their doors at the sight of him.

    The rumor is, that the Alchemy Guild Masters agreed to let him work here, and a group of Maldyn¡¯s former potential Masters actually pay his salary. He is the highest-paid clerk in Oakheart.¡±

    I snorted. Yeah, a well-paid flunkie was good cause for mockery.

    ¡°Why give him a position at all?¡± I asked. ¡°There are all kinds of mundane jobs, and I¡¯m sure someone would hire him. The world needs more than [mana] users.¡± The word ¡®mundane¡¯ always felt kind of¡­dickish, to me. An insult the more elite put down in arrogance. I¡¯d worked my share of fast food and retail, and knew it was the little guys that kept the world running. I went out of my way to treat my comrades-in-arms with respect. But, yes, there was always that guy, too. Obviously, here that was Maldyn.

    ¡°Because he has power,¡± Magali shook his head sadly. ¡°A lot of power, reputedly, just no control. He¡¯s dangerous, wild with [mana]. Here, they keep an eye on him. Again, it¡¯s a rumor, but they say the Alchemists force him to take potions to suppress his [mana].¡±

    Yeah, that was so a horror picture in the making. Stephen King, Wes Crave, and Bloomhouse, all vying for his life¡¯s rights. It made sense to pay him to essentially do nothing. Don''t poke the firestarter.

    ¡°So, he still feels entitled to power, and it''s reinforced with money, leading him to be a royal pain in the ass. Got it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s pretty much it, Book, yep. Woe to the people he ¡®helps¡¯,¡± Magali made air quotes. ¡°But he only hurts pride, not limbs and life, this way.¡±

    ¡°So, what? Are we waiting for him to go on break or something? I really don¡¯t think we have the time, Magali.¡± I was stating feel guilty for taking the detour to drop off my ¡®new¡¯ rug.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°No, we are waiting for¡­that.¡±

    Before Magali could finish his sentence, the door we sat next to flew open and bashed against my knee.

    ¡°Ouch!¡± OK, I exaggerated a tad.

    ¡°Sorry, sorry,¡± a hurried voice reached me. A young elf looked around the door at me, both distracted and apologetic. ¡°Nobody usually sits there.¡±

    ¡°No probs,¡± I told her, regretting my overreaction. I think I was just both worked up with worry and bored with waiting.

    The girl was rather pretty, in a plain sort of way (excuse you? Make sense!). Her short brown hair was spiked, with electric blue tips that matched her eyes. She was pleasantly plump, making me rethink the whole [mana] makes everyone too skinny perception. Probably resulting from the never-ending hunger that wasted me to a rib cage you could play the xylophone on. Apprentices were poor, good food cost coin, so no mystery. And who¡¯s to say my bioengineering wasn¡¯t a cut-rate, bargain-basement hack job? Probably faulty implants, too (??@!!).

    Jeezzze! A jolt of electricity clacked my teeth together. W¡­T¡­F?!

    The other two gave me a weird look¡ªamazing what you can get used to¡ªbut I was too rattled to do anything other than blow it off.

    ¡°Book, this is Gaelia,¡± Magali said pointedly. ¡°Master Tounsel¡¯s apprentice? He sends her to get black tea and a gooseberry scone from Karlinne¡¯s at this time, every day.¡±

    Oh. I gathered the wisps of my wits and did my best to ignore the zap. Say that three times. I stood and gave Gaelia a friendly nod. ¡°Good to meet you!¡±

    ¡°OK?¡± She seemed frazzled at my enthusiasm.

    ¡°Yeah, so, my Master, Alric of ¡°Papers & Powers¡±, sent me to fetch him a potion. He gets them from your Master. See, he dropped his last flask, shattering it (giving you some new decor, ungrateful twit!) and needs a new one before schedule.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I know Master Alric. He has a¡­complicated¡­relationship with my Master.¡±

    ¡°Do you think you could help my friend, Gaelia? It¡¯s a bit pressing.¡± The gleam in Gaelia¡¯s eyes when she looked at Magali told a tale. One of a major crush.

    ¡°Sure, Magali,¡± she said with a wide smile. Her front teeth, well, they could use the help of a good orthodontist. As if sensing my thoughts, she pressed her lips tight together, but still kept the smile. I instantly felt bad at my thoughts and smoothed my comb-over with a hand.

    She motioned for us to follow her, then led us past the counter¡ªMaldyn¡¯s glare at bypassing him could have melted a person on the spot. Feeling cheeky, I waved my ¡®13¡¯ tag at the man as we passed the threshold of his domain. I smiled too, OK? Not a complete jack-ass.

    Our fellow apprentice walked us down a hall, making a series of turns that made me grateful for my [mini-map]. After tramping down a dank set of stone stairs¡ªwhy was such a great Master delegated to the dungeon?¡ªwe came to a heavy, iron-banded door with a tiny barred window set in it. The ¡®dungeon¡¯ crack had been a joke, but seriously? Come on.

    ¡°Master?¡± Gaelia rapped the knuckles of her free hand on the wood, balancing her Master¡¯s mid-morning snack on the other. A set of quick footsteps approached the door, and the little door covering the window slid quickly aside. I got the impression of the man standing on his tiptoes to look out at us.

    ¡°Gaelia? Who is with you?¡± The voice matched the steps, quick and clipped. And none too friendly.

    ¡°You know Magali, sir, Mr. Wordsworth¡¯s son,¡± she said, then gestured to me. ¡°This is¡­Book?¡± I nodded, including both of them. ¡°He is Master Alric¡¯s apprentice.¡±

    ¡°Alric, that bastard? What does he want? I shouldn¡¯t have to deal with that man for another month, at least!¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡±

    Ha! It seemed all apprentices had that loaded up and ready. Self-preservation, giving a safe, noncommittal affirmation. The more things differed, the more they were the same, the galaxy over.

    ¡°Can we come in, Master, so we don¡¯t have to talk through the door.¡± Not quite a question, Gaelia said it with the ease of familiarity, like an old hand at appeasing an eccentric Master. Maybe she could give me some lessons.

    ¡°Fine,¡± the one word was barely audible past the wood¡¯s thickness. The window slammed shut, and we could hear the sound of a stool being pushed to the side. Next came a series of clicks, as what sounded like a half dozen locks being turned. It took a minute, but the portal finally swung inwards enough to allow us entrance.

    What I saw inside was a mad scientist¡¯s dream. Beakers and burners, those spiraling condensing tubes, bubbling cauldrons, and anything Dr. Jekyll could ever want. The light was dim, with high, barred windows grudgingly admitting sunshine. Vapors pooled overhead like a multicolored cloud. If I see lightning, I was going to hightail it out, anyone in my way be damned.

    As I looked around, I spotted one corner where a multitude of stained and rolled-up rugs leaned in a sagging huddle, half supported against the stones of the wall. Rug disposal could be a lucrative business around here. Or a second-hand store catering to apprentices. ¡®Are your floors bare? Do your feet slip and slide between the bedroom and kitchen? Do you live on a mere pittance? Come down to Carpet Joe¡¯s, we have a deal for you! Stains, burns, mysterious odors, we have them all!¡¯ Of course, it wouldn''t be complete without a wacky waving inflatable tube guy!

    Master Tounsel was short and Einstein-looking. Big surprise, huh? As soon as we were inside the room, he shut the heavy door and twisted the locks closed. I¡¯d never been claustrophobic, and the room was large enough to park a quintet of buses in, but each click! of a lock sent shivers along my bones. Were scrolls of [teleport] a thing? If not, I was going to make it my life¡¯s goal to invent them.

    Tounsel thrust a hand at me, the suddenness making me skip a half-step back. He gestured impatiently, expecting me to understand without a word.

    He gave a grand sigh, impressive in its gusto. ¡°Payment, apprentice! Are you slow? Shouldn¡¯t surprise me, since Alric took you on.¡±

    I made an instinctive move to obey, only stopping when my Master¡¯s words came back to me, ¡®Get the potion first, understand?¡¯

    ¡°Potion first.¡± I paused. ¡°Sir.¡±

    His eyes narrowed, and he grumbled like a dwarf (how would you know?), I imagined. Orcs and Elves were real, so who is to say otherwise?

    I felt Marky-mark grumble.

    Zap! Dammit. It was mild, but it still irked me. ''We need to sit down and have a long talk, you''.

    I could see a fight brewing on Tounsel¡¯s countenance. He wasn¡¯t going to give in.

    ¡°Master!¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Tounsel pulled his hand back. ¡°Come back in two hours.¡±

    That was it? ¡°Don¡¯t you want to know why he needs it early?¡± Whatever ¡®it¡¯ was.

    ¡°No. Don¡¯t care.¡± He dismissed us and headed to a collection of beakers. Were all Master crafters sullen? Or just Alric''s acquaintances? Mr. W. was cool.

    Magali and I looked at each other, and he smiled wide, obviously enjoying my disbelief. I must look poleaxed. Love that word.

    ¡°This way, please.¡± Gaelia motioned to the locked door, then looked for a place to set down her burden of tea and pastry. Before she could find an uncluttered spot, the bag and cup floated off her palm, sailing smoothly across the room to land on a counter between an overflowing cauldron and a steaming flask.

    Wow, that was cool. Unsanitary, but cool. I¡¯d be afraid to consume it. Or anything from this room, matter a fact.

    ¡°Come on, Book,¡± said Magali. ¡°I¡¯m craving gooseberries all of a sudden. We can wait at Karlinne¡¯s, my treat.¡±

    The sounds of Gaelia unlocking the door was a balm to my senses.

    ¡°OK. Your treat, Magali.¡±

    I worried about the time, scared something bad would happen to my Master. But, since everybody else was taking it in stride, I guess I could too.

    ¡°No gooseberries.¡±

 Chapter 31: Power trips, Eavesdropping, and Explaining Jokes

    Chapter 31:  Power Trips, Eavesdropping, and Explaining Jokes

    We whiled away the two hours at Karlinne¡¯s over tea¡ªiced and sweet for me¡ªand pastry. I was antsy about getting back, with Magali amused at my impatience. I finally convinced him to head back to the Alchemy Guild, where we still had to sit for another hour before we got in to see Master Tounsel, waiting for Gaelia to come and get us. Of course, half that time was spent trying to get Maldyn to let her know we were there.

    ¡°So, you do not have an appointment on the books?¡± The little toadie sure enjoyed his job.

    ¡°Since I am Book, all my appointments are on me,¡± I laughed, inviting him to join me. No luck. ¡°My name is Book, so¡­¡± If you have to explain the joke, then was it one? Maldyn certainly didn¡¯t think so.

    ¡°Maldyn, please,¡± Magali tried to reason with him. ¡°Ask Gaelia, she is expecting us.¡±

    ¡°Right, Magali. And her being secretly in love with you totally won¡¯t get her to say yes, whether it¡¯s true or not.¡±

    Some secret. Magali blushed to his roots, liberally mixed with a flush of anger.

    ¡°Maldyn,¡± my friend paused, visibly taking control of himself. ¡°Maldyn, please let Gaelia know¡­¡±

    I don¡¯t know who was saved from who, but Gaelia had impeccable timing, choosing that moment to walk out from the hallway behind the counter.

    ¡°Magali! Book,¡± she said, all cheerful smiles. ¡°I was wondering if you guys were back.¡±

    ¡°For the last thirty minutes,¡± Magali had trouble getting the words past grinding teeth. I had never seen my easygoing friend this upset. Must have been the crack about Gaelia and him. Hmm, was there some truth to it?

    ¡°All good, no worries. Master Tounsel isn¡¯t quite ready yet, anyway. I¡¯ll take you down to his lab now.¡± She crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out behind Maldyn¡¯s back, causing me to snicker and Maldyn to narrow his eyes at me.

    We followed her through the twists and turns and descent, suffered the door-unlocking ritual to Tounsel¡¯s lab, and were told to stand quietly against the wall while he finished the potion. At least it wasn¡¯t noses to the corner (dunce cap! dunce cap!) in a timeout.

    The Master alchemist fiddled, hemmed and hawed, then quick-stepped over to an only mostly cluttered counter by the door. His lab was arranged in rows of counters, each with a built-in sink and flame-less fire-gem placements that served the function of Bunsen burners. A mad scientist¡¯s lab-or-atory wedded to a mad teacher¡¯s 10th-grade science classroom. Different types of ¡®mad¡¯, or maybe not.

    ¡°Well,¡± the mad alchemist accused us. (You¡¯s makan¡¯ me ¡®mad¡¯!) ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there. Give me the money, then take the potion and leave.¡±

    So we did, but when the three of us were on the other side of the door I had to ask. ¡°OK, someone has gotta let me in on what¡¯s going on. What¡¯s the beef between Alric and Tounsel?¡±

    ¡°Beef?¡± Gaelia asked in confusion.

    ¡°Ignore it,¡± Magali replied. ¡°That is just ¡®Book talk¡¯.¡± He put a finger in my face when I opened my mouth. ¡°No jokes.¡±

    Awww.

    ¡°He is from a little backwater village, Gaelia.¡± Yeah, that story was getting a little thin. ¡°He talks in strange idioms, sometimes. You get used to it. And to answer your question, Book, they had a falling out over a woman.¡±

    ¡°For real? Who won¡­I mean, who did the woman choose?¡±

    ¡°Master Alric did. He was the romantic one¡­¡±¡ªI choked on my own spit¡ª¡°¡­and they ultimately got married. They even had a daughter.¡±

    ¡°But it didn¡¯t end well,¡± Gaelia took up the story from Magali. ¡°Master Tounsel is adamant it would have been different if she¡¯d chosen him, instead.¡±

    ¡°Oh-ho.¡± I wanted¡ªneeded¡ªmore details. (Missing your soaps, huh?) I was ready to dig in, burrow deep down in the rabbit hole. Mmmm, rabbit.

    ¡°Some other time,¡± Gaelia said as she came to a stop at the end of the hall. ¡°I need to get back.¡± I could tell she wanted to hang out more, but duty called.

    ¡°Definitely,¡± I said, then stole a look at Magali. ¡°We should all get together, sometime, the Apprentice¡¯s Club.¡± It was a spur-of-the-moment thought but sounded good. I missed having a circle of friends to get together with and be stupid.

    ¡°I¡¯d like that, ¡° Gaelia sounded wistful.

    ¡°We could invite Paytin, and I¡¯ll bring my roommate, Tess.¡±

    ¡°And Tak.¡± Now Magali sounded wistful.

    What¡¯s this? Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    I gave him the one eyebrow lift¡ªI was getting better. Must be all the practice. My own attitude toward Tak had cooled after, well, getting to know her better.

    ¡°What? She¡¯s alrea¡¯ part¡¯o tha buis¡¯ness.¡±

    That was a clear enough sign. Did I step in it by inviting Gaelia? Oops. I never would have thought it, Magali liking Tak that way. It was too late to back out now, however.

    ¡°The ¡®Ink Spot¡¯? Seven-day night?" That''s just clunky. "We¡¯ll invite everyone.¡±

    ¡°Count me in!¡± Gaelia waved as she turned to head back to her Master. I noticed she took care and managed to stay out of Maldyn¡¯s line of sight.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I told Magali. It was time and past that I returned to my Master with his potion. Watch it turn out to be something mundane like mouthwash (wink!), with me on a snipe hunt.

    <hr>

    ¡°Master Alric?¡± I arrived at the store and headed up the stairs. I knocked perfunctorily on the door, then let myself into Alric¡¯s private quarters. ¡°I have your potion,¡± I said, holding it out like a talisman to justify my presence. It was better than a pair of crossed popsicle sticks with a splash of holy water.

    Alric and Mr. W. Were sitting opposite each other at a table, a marble game board with pieces strikingly similar to chess laid out on it. There were miniature castles, dragons, and spread-limbed trees assaulting fortified positions, all of them beautifully carved from semiprecious stones. I had no idea who was winning¡ªor how the game was even played.

    ¡°Thank you, Book,¡± my Master said, motioning for me to bring it over.

    I set the potion on the table at his left hand, while his right one fiddled with a horse and carriage carved from an orange-ish material. He placed it on the board, watching Mr. W.¡¯s face as did so, before removing the stopper on the flask and taking a measured two swallows. He closed his eyes, relief painting his features. The relaxed muscles took years off his face, bringing back some of the color he''d lost.

    ¡°Thank you, Book.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master. I¡¯m glad I could help. W-what happened, sir?¡± I had at least some right to know, didn¡¯t I? ¡°Are you sick?¡±

    He gave me a flat stare, and for a second I thought he might give me an answer.

    ¡°Mind yourself, apprentice. I believe that you have some work to do, downstairs?¡±

    I should have known better (yep). What¡¯s with all the perverse attitudes? Alric, Tounsel¡­Maldyn? Even Tak. Magali, Paytin, and Gaelia were nice, but still. The world wasn¡¯t filled with Keebler Elves.

    I pulled the door closed behind me, then paused as the sounds of a picked-up conversation reached me.

    ¡°¡­symptoms¡­worse¡­how long?¡±

    ¡°More frequent¡­caught me by surprise.¡±

    Only sporadic bits were clear enough to hear, but it was enough to make me stay on the threshold.

    ¡°¡­tell Book?¡±

    ¡°No¡­don¡¯t think¡­ready.¡±

    ¡°Sooner¡­later¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­¡±

    I was pushing my luck, staying there and listening. It was a lot to think about, so I headed down the stairs and to my workstation.

    Where was I? It felt like forever since I had left in search of my Master''s alchemic concoction. New ink for scrolls that were both practical, per Master Alric, and useful to an adventurer, as stated by my empty coin purse.

    A scroll of [barrier] was next on my list. Setting the filter on my HUD, I went to the storeroom and wandered the rows of shelves to gather ingredients. I knew where the usuals were and quickly grabbed them, then searched for the Dire Swamp Ooze enzyme, the ¡®cheap and easy¡­best for economy¡¯. I found it in the¡­ulp!¡­living creature¡¯s section. It was my least favorite aisle. It smelled, and things moved. Let¡¯s not forget the ¡®disgusting¡¯ notation in Master Alric¡¯s handwriting.

    I stared at the murky aquarium, and something stared back. Blurp!, bubbles burst from the green-scummed water. There was an actual Ooze in the tank. Master Alric had given me some basic instructions on how to approach the slime when first teaching me to care for the storeroom and its inhabitants.  Pulling on the heavy, leather mittens kept on the shelf above, I quickly reached into the gloop. ¡®Never show hesitation¡¯, the words of advice flooded my mind. I grabbed an edge of the creature, twisting and pulling until a good-sized piece popped off in my hands. It was like squishing a glob of your grandma¡¯s Jello ring through your fingers, ugh. It even had little, crunchy bits in it, but they weren¡¯t shredded carrots and pistachios. Even the dry cat food in Aunt Bethany¡¯s Christmas dessert was more appealing.

    I dropped it in a bowl I had readied, snagged a sealed jar of basilisk saliva, and carried the lot back to my table. Mere steps from my destination, I stubbed my toe on nothing¡ªhey, air can be a menace (for you, maybe!)¡ªand juggled the items, almost losing it all to gravity.

    ¡°Son of a¡­mother truc¡­Shit!¡± I caught it on the last swear. ¡°Way to go, dumb-ass. Spill the saliva and turn your skin to stone, why doncha?¡±

    Setting all of it down (carefully), I arranged everything to my liking, pulled the recipe book to me, and propped it up against the wall where my desk met the bare stone. An empty jar, previously holding my favorite snack of pickled mushrooms, worked to keep the book from sliding down.

    ¡®Pour the basilisk saliva over the flesh of the Dire Swamp Ooze¡¯, the recipe read. Leaving the protective mittens on, I did just that. The combination oozed and popped like drool on pop rocks (two for one pun, he-he). It was my turn to *groan*. I get it:  Ooze/oozed; saliva/drool. Ha. Pause. Ha.

    ¡®Once the Ooze flesh is fully petrified, use a mortar and pestle to break through the outer skin and grind it up. A slurry of the still-fluid inner flesh and the crust formed by the basilisk saliva is the desired result. Mix until homogeneous.¡¯

    Ah, my favorite tool, the chipped and worn mortar and pestle I inherited. I called him Mortimer, wink-wink. The resulting mess was the consistency of muddy-brown silly putty.

    ¡®Once reduced to a singular substance, first making sure no reactions are still taking place, use a pressure sieve over intense [heat] and collect the pressed liquids in a condensation flask. Once gathered, add to the base ink mixture with the paraffin (or vermiculite, depending on the intended properties), then follow normal curing techniques.¡¯

    Got it. A combination of using a [heat] scroll¡ªwhy use fire-gems when we literally made the scrolls in-house?¡ªand forcing the mess through the finest mesh, collecting the vapors in a condensing coil, and adding a few milliliters to the usual silver-gray ink that flashed to a bright bronze, and the only thing left to do was to leave it overnight. Come morning, I would know if I had done it correctly. Maybe get a listed [skill], hint-hint?

    Now what?

    I checked the digital time displayed on my HUD, realizing the day had passed by, and I missed lunch! A good enough reason to knock off for the afternoon and get a sticky bun (or two!) on the way home. I listened for noise coming from upstairs, but there was nothing, and no thuds had interrupted my work. It was safe to leave.

    I wondered how Tess would like our new rug.

 Chapter 32: Beers, Brown Bottles, and an Uninvited Guest

    Chapter 32:  Beers, Brown Bottles, and an Uninvited Guest

    ¡°Another round, luvs?¡±

    Everybody at the table raised a chorus of yeses, or their variation, at the bar wench¡¯s question.

    ¡°Yes, please.¡±

    ¡°Yup.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°Yas, girl.¡±

    ¡°I guess.¡±

    ¡°Obviously.¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma''am.¡±

    All, except me. I hated beer, even if it was called ¡®ale¡¯. I¡¯m sure there is a technical difference between them, but I¡¯m an alcohol noob. Don¡¯t get me wrong, I¡¯ve drank my fair share and gotten stumble drunk¡ª¡®we never should have crossed that damn field¡¯¡ªbut I wasn¡¯t exactly a connoisseur. I liked fruity drinks (no judgment), preferably with a garnish. Margaritas are fine, especially mango tajin, but anything with rum was my jam. White rum, the coconut kind.

    ¡®Wench¡¯ was a derogatory term back home, an insult, but it literally meant a young female who works in a tavern for the elves. So, bar waitress. ¡®Swain¡¯ was the male version. The thing is, in Shakespeare¡¯s time¡­ Stop. Go back¡ªwho said ¡®I guess¡¯, with all the enthusiasm of a carnivore in a vegan joint?

    Judging by their faces, it had to be Gaelia. I made eye contact with her, scrunched my nose, and nodded at the still-half-full tankard before me. She snorted a quiet giggle.

    ¡°What else do you have?¡± I asked our server. I¡¯m more comfortable with that term and I''ll stick to it. She looked at me like I¡¯d grown a second head.

    ¡°The brown stuff, o¡¯ course. Whiskey.¡±

    ¡°Not unless you have 7-up,¡± I said. ¡°Ouch!¡± Tess kicked me under the table, giving me a smile-glare. Sm¡¯are? Gl¡¯ile? ¡°Anything more, um, exotic?¡±

    The server put on a pained expression, annoyed but still giving it some thought. ¡°Well, some ol'' trapper came in, traded a batch of potato liquor for a small keg of good ale. Vile stuff, you ask me.¡±

    Vodka! I''d hit the jackpot. My next ask would raise a few eyebrows. ¡°How about orange juice?¡±

    ¡°I s¡¯pose there might be some left from brekkie.¡±

    ¡°Nice! Could you check, please? If there is, I¡¯ll take that and some of the potato liquor. Thanks.¡±

    Yep, raised brows all around, including Tess, who never understood how someone could not like beer. Or coffee. Yick. At least, not straight. Add enough milk and sugar, some caramel syrup, and whipped cream, and it was palatable. Now I wanted a caramel latte.

    The server left to get our order, and if she¡¯d had chewing gum she¡¯d be popping it. Tess looked at me and shook her head in mock sadness.

    It gets worse.

    When she returned and set the mugs down on the scarred table, a small carafe of OJ and a bottle of cloudy-brown glass joined them. She raised¡ªyep¡ªone eyebrow before leaving to heed the calls of other patrons.

    I levered the cork from the bottle of supposed vodka and waved it under my nose for a whiff. Tess laughed at my pretentiousness, and I started to smile. Before my lips could so much as twitch, the vapors hit me. Gee-gad, that shit was potent! I don¡¯t know if vodka not having a smell was a myth, or not, but this stuff could peel paint. Too cliche? How about, torch your nose hairs and squeeze your eyeballs? (better) The group watched as I looked around for something to mix my drink in. Idiotic me, expecting a glass to come with my request.

    Tess knew what I was going for, so she grabbed the mug I had pushed aside, downing the remainder in one go, not coming up for breath as her throat worked with swallows. Your hard-earned college dollars at the finest, Mom and Dad! She wiped the foam from her lips, and let out a great belch.

    ¡°Braaap!¡± Tess pounded her chest with a fist, then flipped the ale-stache at me with two fingers.

    ¡°Thanks, Tess. Like I didn¡¯t already hate the stuff!¡±

    ¡°Aww, Book. Haters gonna hate.¡±

    We grinned at each other, sharing another moment only we¡¯d understand.

    I poured the now empty mug half full with juice, then thought better and filled it to three fingers below the rim. Even holding the brown bottle away to pour in a couple of shots caused my eyes to tear. I mixed the dubious concoction with my finger, then took a tentative sip. Hmm, not badwhoahitburns!

    After all the effort and derisive looks, there was nothing to do but plaster on a smile and take another scorching taste.

    ¡°Not bad, not bad at all,¡± I said, making an effort to keep the torture off my face. It was still better than beer.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Sure, Book. Maybe you can start a new trend.¡±

    ¡°Book, are you crying?¡± Magali asked me, ever the solicitous one.

    ¡°Nah, man. Just allergies. Must be some dust in here.¡± I held the drink out, passing it in an arc under the noses of my friends. ¡°Wanna try?¡±

    Magali politely declined, Tak gave me a flat stare, Paytin giggled and shook her head, and Gaelia smiled a ''no''. Kolin hesitated, then started to reach for it but Tess laughed and grabbed his arm.

    ¡°Dude, no.¡±

    Maldyn snarled and shooed me away with his hands. Did I say they were all friends? Yeah, no. The pathetic, petty, power-hungry (stop alliterating! I¡¯ll zap you)¡­prick.

    Bzzzt! I jumped in my seat, spilling my drink. Not too much, unfortunately. Nobody said anything, so they must think it was the cocktail. Being stubborn, I took a gulp.

    I took a moment to keep the bile down, then continued my mental rant. Maldyn had tragically overhead us when I¡¯d blurted out the invite on our visit to the Alchemy Guild. We¡¯d been settling in at the table when the scrape of a heavy chair dragging across the floor jolted us. Next thing, Maldyn was wedging the chair between Magali and Gaelia. I guess he thought he was clever, separating the two after his mean-spirited crack. I should have had Kolin toss him out on his ass, but I doubted the earnest adventurer would do it. Too bad.

    ¡°Any progress?¡± Tak brought me out of my head. Thank you, it''s not a pretty place.

    ¡°Hmm?¡± great riposte, as always. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve got an even split of [torchlight], [heat], and [heat-blast]. Seven of each.¡±

    ¡°Seven? I thought I gave you twenty-five parchments. That is only twenty-one.¡±

    ¡°Yeaaah,¡± I told Paytin. ¡°I kinda screwed up on a few.¡± I felt the keen heat of embarrassment.

    ¡°God,¡± said Tess, forgetting and using an Earth swear. ¡°You should have seen Book, hopping around like a frog on a hot plate, trying not to lose his eyebrows again! The apartment reeked afterward, ha.¡±

    Alright, that was two slang blunders. The others were starting to notice, but hopefully, they chalked it up to our ¡®tiny village¡¯ of Boulder. I checked faces for amusement, but Magali sputtered his ale in a spit-take. I tried to lean away but the spittle still hit me. "Gah!" I wiped a hand down my face.

    ¡°W-w-what?! Did you make scrolls in your home? Where you live?¡±

    Bud, those are the same place. What¡¯s the deal?  I didn¡¯t say it out loud, but my face shouted it to the rooftops.

    ¡°Are you crazy?¡± Tak jumped in.

    ¡°More like stupid.¡± OK, F-you Maldyn.

    The rest had varied looks of concern, only Tess sharing my confusion.

    ¡°Was that bad?¡± My roommate spoke slowly, drawing the words out in a question.

    ¡°Bad¡¯, she says. Ha!¡± Alright, Maldyn, you little¡­ We couldn''t let on about our lack of magical do''s and don''ts. The only good thing was he didn''t latch on to the whole [heat-blast] being as I had just invented it, and nobody invented anything magic anymore.

    ¡°Watch your tongue,¡± Kolin defended his girlfriend with a menace. Even a chivalrous knight would want to cave the failed apprentice¡¯s head in like an overripe melon. Kolin had the strength to do it, for sure, and Maldyn seemed to know it. He shut his mouth and cast his eyes at the table. Man, I wish I had that effect on the guy. A balding, wannabe, glorified scribbler doesn¡¯t carry the same weight as an armored swordsman, imagine that? I know, I go on about my hair too much. Maybe I should just shave my head.

    ¡®Why couldn¡¯t the Orcs bioengineer that?¡¯ I lamented to myself. (can¡¯t fix loser) I slapped myself hard across the face, only hurting my physical self. I tried to play the self-abuse off as a commentary on the stupidity of my actions. Accidentally setting off fireballs at the kitchen table probably wasn¡¯t the smartest thing I¡®ve ever done. Hindsight; 20/20.

    ¡°Book, you could have burned the building down. You could have hurt a lot of people.¡±

    Damn, Magali, don¡¯t make me feel any more guilty. Around the table, looks of incredulity¡ªincluding Tess and I, after the fact¡ªmade me sink in my chair. All the fun had gone out of the night.

    ¡°Guess I wasn¡¯t thinking. But where else could I go?¡±

    ¡°You should have asked me, I would have found you a place.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, Magali, but how would I have known to ask?¡±

    ¡°Common sense, you dolt!¡± Thanks for that, Tak. Anybody else?

    ¡°You really should have thought of it, Book.¡± Gaelia, the quiet one, was the next to berate me.

    ¡°Oh-ho, the Guild Masters are going to have a field day when I tell¡­¡± Maldyn abruptly broke off, as Kolin leaned forward and wrapped his finger around his mug. The iron-bound wood creaked ominously. I was starting to really like that guy.

    ¡°Nobody asked you here, Maldyn.¡± Kolin¡¯s tone begged for the guy to break his sudden silence. The uninvited guest kept quiet, showing some hint of intelligence.

    ¡°I doubt Master Alric would let you work out of his place, though.¡± Paytin at least wasn¡¯t trying to beat me up. ¡°Magali and I will put our heads together, and ask around for a place where nobody can get hurt.¡±

    Well, she wasn¡¯t totally defending me, but I had to give Paytin credit for working the problem instead of working me over.

    ¡°It will be an expense, however,¡± she continued.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Magali exhaled loudly. ¡°But we can figure it in the overhead and account for it.

    ¡°Wait, are you guys forming a side business? The Masters¡­¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t hear of it.¡± Tak to the defense. Of her potential profit, anyway. There couldn¡¯t be a scroll-making business without me, the [Scrivener; apprentice], so I guess she had her priorities straight.

    Thank the Mother of Trees, Bless her roots.

    ¡°Say goodnight, Maldyn,¡± Kolin said to a chorus of agreement.

    Maldyn hesitated¡ªso we knew it was his idea (pluck!)¡ªthen slowly slid his chair back and stood up. ¡°Goodnight.¡± He left without dropping any coin for his share of the tab.

    ¡°Who invited him?¡± Tess asked.

    ¡°Nobody!¡¯ It wasn¡¯t a chorus this time and the wordage varied, but the sentiment was there. Gaelia did look a little sheepish.

    The mood was thoroughly dampened, with everyone finishing off their drinks in silence.

    ¡±Time for me to go,¡± Paytin announced to the group. ¡°I have to start early. Mother is a stickler, we only take Nine-day off. Magali, stop by and we¡¯ll come up with a place for Book to work his magic.¡±

    Ha! The phrase was literal in this instance, as I was working magic. Magic!

    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ve got training,¡± Tess put in as she and Kolin stood to go.

    We? Crap, it was official.

    The group bade their goodnights, going separate ways to where they laid their heads at the end of the day.

    I was the last one left, pondering the potential disaster I might have caused. Damn.

    Wait, they left the tab for me! Dammit!

    Seeing the party break up, our server bustled over to clear the table.

    ¡°What¡¯s the damage,¡± I asked her.

    ¡°What damage? Did you guys break something!¡±

    ¡°No. No. Sorry. I just meant, how much do we owe you?¡± Breaking the habit is not an easy thing.

    ¡°Already paid,¡± she said, confusing me. ¡°Left a good tip, too.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± I hadn¡¯t seen any of my friends settle our account with the server.

    ¡°The weasely, pinch-faced one. He give me a gold!¡±

    It took a moment to figure it out, meanwhile the ¡®wench¡¯ happily whistled as she snatched up the various mugs in a bin and dragged a cloth across the table.

    Could it be?

    Maldyn?

    I stood to leave, hating the thought of re-evaluating the said pinch-faced weasel.

    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t forget tha'' nasty swill. You paid for that bottle, you take it.¡±

 Chapter 33: Location, Location, andâ€¦Places

    Chapter 33:  Location, Location, and¡­Places

    The distorted brown glass bottle took pride of place over the mantle of our apartment. There wasn¡¯t a true fireplace, with a chimney, flu, and grate for burning wood. Under the long, wood beam of the mantle was a small cutout midway down and above where the flagstones jutted out into the room. A holdover of days past and a nod to history, if no longer necessary. It looked cool. Half the cutout was filled with cubbies designed to keep the [heat] scrolls, and the rest was home to a pair of clips that hold open the in-use scroll from top to bottom. They looked surprisingly like potato bag clips. What I wouldn¡¯t give to hang a bag of flaming hot cheese curls from them like a mounted deer head. Or one of those singing bass fish, ha! Dad had one of those hanging on the wall in my childhood home, a souvenir from a declining beer company. Which was ironic, since he never went fishing and I inherited my distaste of beer from him.

    ¡°Here is a little song I wrote¡­something something something¡­don¡¯t worry, be happy¡­¡± That was the song, the one that the fish sang when you walked past it.

    My Dad loved collecting old kitsch. Maybe I should start my own collection, here? Find the most tasteless, obnoxious fashions from Elven history. Seriously, it could be a taste of home. I¡¯m sure there are second-hand stores around here. I¡¯ll ask Master Alric where he found my mannequin-legged work desk.

    I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯ll ever open the ugly bottle again¡ªunless I need to start a fire or strip paint from the walls¡ªbut it will make a great start to my collecting. Besides, the pseudo-vodka gave me hope for a tequila or rum out there, waiting to be found. I needed to visit a seaport, sailors know their hard liquor.

    I snagged a pair of kitchen shears and headed to the mirror in the bathroom. I glanced at my pipe/scroll setup, making a mental note,--again--to follow up on it. I faced my reflection and steeled myself. Once collected, I sucked in a deep breath and took the plunge. One chunk at a time, I revealed the landscape of my skull. Hmm, it had a nice shape. Next, I picked up the straight razor I¡¯d bought and went to work. Wow, head cuts bleed copiously, don¡¯t they? Done, I rather liked it, aside from the lacerations and sun-deprived paleness.

    Today was Eight-day, the only free day Paytin had, so the plan was to look for a workplace for our endeavor. The three of us met at Karlinne¡¯s, our new hangout, where the waitress seemed to be getting over her disdain for my sweet iced tea. Of course, Magali had given me shit over my head when he saw me.

    ¡°Whoa, Book. Whoever is cutting your hair should be fired!

    ¡°Ha-ha!¡± I bent over and pawed at my stomach. ¡°You¡¯re so funny, man,¡± I deadpanned, severing my laughter and trying to glare. It lasted all of ten seconds before I relented and broke up. We ordered our usuals and waited for Paytin to join us. It wasn¡¯t long before she was pulling out a chair and joining the table.

    ¡°Can I try that?¡±

    Happily surprised, I handed the cold, condensation-sweating glass to Paytin.

    ¡°That is¡­actually pretty good, Book,¡± Paytin said with an approving nod. She took another sip, appreciating the coolness. Not that it was hot, or even close to balmy, as the winter season had officially started in Oakheart. My next investment from any profits would be a heavier set of robes. Enchanted with [clean]¡ªself-charging, of course. Tak wouldn¡¯t even have to push for the upgrade this time, as I would never go back after having it. Still, the novelty of the cold brew had to be invigorating after a lifetime of hot tea. A reverse British invasion, if you will.

    ¡°Keep it,¡± I told her, then made an attention-grabbing wave to the serving girl. ¡°Another, please.¡±

    ¡°OK, guys,¡± Magali said, recapturing our engrossment. His drink looked to be on the edge of boiling, with steam rising off it that enveloped his mouth and nose. He inhaled it pointedly. ¡°We have three potentials for a workplace of our own.¡±

    ¡°Cheap,¡± I felt the need to remind him. Paytin nodded along, the sweet tea rapidly lowering in the glass I¡¯d given her. Ah, the warm glow of converting a non-believer (corrupter! Hisssss¡­), pure bliss!

    ¡°Yes, Book. Cheap.¡± Magali understood it in an abstract, pure numbers fashion, but I felt he needed a nudge in the practical direction. Both Paytin and I knew the true, bone-weary heaviness of being broke. Magali¡¯s father, Mr. W., was a thrifty man by nature and had tried to pass some of it along to his children, but they had grown up as legacies to a successful business, ¡°Wordsworth¡¯s¡±. The family was strongly upper-middle class¡ªnot thinking of themselves as having money¡ªbut not completely in touch with the reality some of us lived in daily. Paytin and her mother were new to the Lane, struggling to make their place.

    ¡°We have three possibles,¡± Magali went on, oblivious to our inner thoughts. ¡°Two in the industrial sector, one just outside the gates to the city.¡±

    ¡°Oh, probably a pass on that one, right? I mean, we don¡¯t want to spend half our time commuting.¡± OK, I didn¡¯t want to spend the time walking. Sue me (Tess would).

    ¡°Agree.¡±

    Magali accepted our reluctance readily, most likely of the same mind.

    ¡°That leaves the two in town. Are you two ready to go see them?¡±

    Paytin and I guzzled the remainder of our iced tea. Mine went down smooth with practice, while I watched her face. Three¡­two¡­one¡­brain freeze!This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Mother of Trees! Oh, my aching head,¡± Paytin clutched her head in both hands as the ice pick of doom pierced her skull.

    I couldn¡¯t help it, I laughed. Yes, the elves had cold drinks, and sure, this couldn¡¯t have been the first brain freeze in their history. I think it was the association of their beloved hot teas diverging from the norm that got her. Whatever, it was funny, like a man getting hit in the nuts with a ball.

    ¡°Hold your tongue to the roof of your mouth, Paytin.¡± She looked dubious, not trusting my idea. ¡°Really, it works! Don¡¯t know why, don¡¯t really care, but it does.¡±

    Magali left some coins for the server, then headed to the door, shaking his head the whole time. ¡°Serves you right, drinking tea with ice,¡± he muttered, loud enough to be sure we heard.

    We followed our friend, the scribe, Paytin with her mouth half open and head tilted back as she tried to warm up her palate.

    After an hour of walking¡ªand it was still closer than the front gates!¡ªthe quaint cobbles turned to rough, gravel-packed roads with permanent ruts. Instead of having to repeatedly keep filling these ruts, they were hardened by magic and used like train tracks. The heavy carts and wagons constantly coming and going were fitted with special wheels to take advantage. Getting run over by one of them would crush/slice/cut/mush the same as a steam locomotive. Ginsu style, baby!

    As we walked, Magali took out a handkerchief and wrapped it around his nose and neck.

    ¡°Damn, man,¡± I cried in exaggeration. Ack! So, not in exaggeration! The smells hit me harder than the imagined train. ¡°You could¡¯a warned me! Where¡¯s my mask?¡± The words came out tonal, as I pinched my nose closed in self-defense. Chemicals, sulfur, rotting meat, cow methane; the amalgamation didn¡¯t settle on any one of them, it was a truly medieval smell (DUH!). This was way worse than the stench put out by a sugar beet factory, something I remembered from visiting relatives in Fort Morgan, Colorado. Hell, I¡¯d take the reek of Paytin¡¯s parcheminier over this any day! Speaking of, I shot her a look only to see her grinning back at me. Revenge for the brain freeze, I suppose.

    ¡°You should have known, Book,¡± Magali reproached me gently. ¡°Where did you grow up¡­oh, right. Boulder.¡±

    Every time, I mean every time, he talked about Boulder like a backwoods village, I wanted to bark a laugh in his face ¡®Yip-yip; bow-wow!¡¯ I howled in my head. ¡®Hey, yeah, bark at the moon¡­¡¯ I suddenly had the urge to bite the head off a live bat (are you losing it, dude?). Yup, and I¡¯m taking you with me Marky-mar¡­(NO!). Guess I needed to come up with a new nickname for the voice in my head. Is this how all schizophrenics feel?

    I should sit down and write out all the song lyrics I could remember, sell ¡®em to a Bard. I think I¡¯ve thought this¡­thought, before, haven¡¯t I? Just like the notes app and a list maker¡ª''why don¡¯t you work on those, oh great and wise voice in my head?'' No answer. ¡®So now, when I need you, you shut up?¡¯ I wish I had a light socket to stick my tongue in, that¡¯d serve my brain right! Turn the tables, and¡­yeah, bad idea.

    I held one voluminous sleeve of my robes to my nose, beyond caring that I looked like a fool. ¡°How much farther?¡±

    ¡°Not much,¡± Magali answered. ¡°And they are close together, both on¡­let¡¯s see,¡± he pulled out a crude map. ¡°Tanner¡¯s Row.¡±

    ¡°Nice. It¡¯ll feel like home.¡± Paytin was enjoying my discomfort way too much.

    A whole ¡®row¡¯ of those particularly horrendous vapors? Nope, can¡¯t do it. Unless I could reverse engineer, then literally reverse, the [barrier] scroll Paytin¡¯s Mom got from my Master, Alric. He might actually help me with it, so I could hope. The thought was the only way I could cope.

    It turned out that not only were the two places close, but they leaned up against each other. Not figuratively. The ancient, brick walls bowed out, slouching together like a pair of drunks leaving the after-after-party. How the swirling vapors didn¡¯t tumble them was beyond me.

    ¡°Maybe they are better on the inside,¡± Paytin said, trying to cheer me up.

    I couldn¡¯t hold it, no matter how hard I tried. Sometimes a guy just has to nerd out. ¡°And I thought they smelled bad on the outside!¡± *Sigh*, song lyrics and movie quotes keep spewing out, with me powerless to stop it. Forgive me, universe.

    ¡°I imagine it¡¯ll be better inside, Book.¡± Good ol¡¯ Magali, taking my peculiarities in stride.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it will, buddy.¡±

    ¡°If we even want to go inside,¡± Paytin said doubtfully. She balanced her way up the rickety steps, making sure to put her weight down where the risers were placed. Even so, the second to the top step snapped with a crack! and a pack of mangy somethings ran out from under her.

    "Nope, no, un-un,¡± said the one with the strongest constitution. She spun quickly, stepped between Magali and me, and grabbed us by the elbows. Then she quick-marched us away, brooking no argument from Magali as he carried on about price points.

    ¡°But you said you wanted cheap! These are cheap, our profit margins will take flight like gryphons fleeing from bone hunters.¡±

    ¡°Dude, no friggin¡¯ way. I¡¯d rather lose coins than step one foot inside those places.¡± It was telling that the two who knew poverty close-up were the ones running, huh? But that was it, we knew we¡¯d never thrive in such a place because we¡¯d already tasted it in our pasts. What was the saying, ¡®dress for the part you want?¡¯ Aspirations over depreciations.

    ¡°We will find someplace else, Magali. A place that isn¡¯t soul-crushing. Trust us, these aren''t for us."

    ¡°Book is right,¡± Paytin supported me. ¡°This is a place to die, not grow.¡±

    A midday drunk with a brown bottle cackled as we passed, his teeth cracked and blackened from booze, baring them at us as he overheard us talking.

    ¡°Die, die, die¡­no grow, grow grow¡­¡± the drunk slurred. It settled things for Magali.

    ¡°I guess, we can keep looking, but it will take time. These were the best I could find on short notice.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask Tak if she knows of any place?¡± It put the smile on his face as I¡¯d hoped.

    Returning to our beloved Parchment Lane, where the buildings stood proud on their foundations, we split up. Magali mumbled something about catching up on work, and Paytin lived above her storefront/workplace, so I figured I¡¯d check my own place for any inspiration.

    Before she headed off, Paytin ran her warm hand over my newly slick scalp. It was her first time to mention it. ¡°Looks good, Book. It suits you. See ya.¡±

    I felt an involuntary shiver at the head rub. Was I really so desperate that any female touch put thoughts in my brain that weren¡¯t there before? Let me see: Male? Check; Lonely? Oh, so very.

    I tried banishing the feeling (friend zone, ha!) and mulled over how I might turn the ruined parchment¡ªthe one I¡¯d spilled the exclamation mark blot on in ink and for some reason kept around¡ªinto something new and unique. I always came circling back to it. Laying on the scarred surface of my worktable was another note from Master Alric. Surely not another portent, right? (Good luck with that.)

    Gritting my teeth, I unfolded the paper. It was short, written in Alric¡¯s hand.

    ¡°305 Mueller St., industrial sector. Knock on the back door.¡±

 Sick

    Sorry for no chapter today. My daughter was kind enough to bring home a stomach virus and share it with me. We''ve been taking turns puking for the last two days.

    Probable no chapter tomorrow, but I''ll try to make it up  over the weekend. Once I get a backlog this won''t happen again.

    I''ll delete and replace this asap

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